But she’s all taken care of. My younger sister lives with me and just announced she’s moving to help our other sister. So now I have to find a roommate! I don’t guess Snowball has a friend ...
I press send before I can overthink it.
Chapter 10
DREW
Tuesday is another crazy day at the clinic. I’ve brought Sasha with me to work. Maria sets up a bed for her on top of the cabinets, far from any of the animals that come in.
She’s content to be up there and only hops down to pop into her kennel for a snack or a litter box break.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a cat,” Maria says, stroking a bunny in labor. A little girl named Lindsay, maybe seven years old, and her mother are sitting in chairs next to the exam table.
“Is her baby coming out yet?” Lindsay asks.
She’s asked this approximately every ninety seconds since they arrived with the pet bunny. The mother got concerned when the bunny started having difficulty breathing after laboring all night. We’ve already done a sonogram and determined that there is only one baby bunny coming.
I push aside the straw and bunny hair lining the nest and check the birth canal. “Almost time.” I glance up at the mother. “You want her to see this?”
Mom nods. “I’m relieved it isn’t a big batch. Isn’t it rare to be only one?”
I don’t want to say that there were many unviable sacs in there. “Bunnies sometimes know what they can handle. You’ll spay her?”
The mom nods. “As soon as it’s safe.”
“I see something!” Lindsay says, leaning closer.
A tiny bit of pink starts to show under the bunny’s white fur.
“That’s the baby,” I say. “Remember not to touch. Baby bunnies are extremely fragile. You shouldn’t handle it for two to three weeks.”
Lindsay’s eyes grow big, and she pushes a long lock of brown hair out of her face so she can see better. “Is Frolic pooping the baby out of her butt?”
Maria bites her lip to avoid laughing.
“No,” I say. “Girl bunnies have a special place in their tummy where the babies grow until they are big enough to be pushed out of a special canal.”
Lindsay looks up at her mom. “I’m glad it’s not coming out of her poop chute.”
Now I’m the one trying to hide a smile.
“There it is,” I say as the baby lands in the nest. I’m saying a small prayer that it’s alive. Many bunnies deliver nonviable kits.
Frolic turns around in the straw and begins licking the bundle of pink.
“It’s naked!” Lindsay says. “Where’s the fur?”
“It will grow,” I assure her. “All bunny babies are born without any fur.”
The placenta and sac start to come out, and I decide this might be too much for a seven-year-old. “Mom, I’m going to take Frolic to a quiet spot so she can tend to the baby without stress. You and Maria can go fill out some paperwork to get her spayed.”
“Do we get to take her home tonight?” Lindsay asks.
“Of course,” I say. “Feed her some parsley and herbs and a bit of her favorite treats. She’ll be pretty tired.”
I carry the box with the nest into the surgical room so that Frolic can do her business with the afterbirth, and I can tend to the empty sacs. If Frolic rejects the kit because it’s cold or having difficulty, I’ll intervene. Most bunnies will accept a lethargic kit if you help it along.
After a few minutes, Maria pops her head in. “Clinic’s shut down other than these two. How’s the kit?”