PermaLink Cleanup on aisle wabbit06/24/2011 04:09 AM
If you follow me on Twitter, you know about 1/30th of the story of this last week. This is another 2/7th. I'll leave you to do the math.

I was incredibly upset. Hurt. In need of some of your knowledge.

I can't blame your phone. You chose it.

I can't blame Bea. She didn't mean to die.

I can't blame Liz for being dry.

I can't even blame me, because you know I'd do anything when my wabbits need me.

I said a lot of bad things. I don't even think apologies are enough.

But I still need what you know.

I took care of Bea, I looked after Bess and her six lost kits. I am currently fighting hour-by-hour to make sure I don't lose the last of Liz's kits.

He or she is tough, and loud, grumpy and strong. I will do anything I have to do to make sure he or she opens his or her eyes Tuesday and meets Liz, and Bess, and Grace and Brak and the father Nutsy.

And eventually, Mr. Fred.

I've done everything I know to do, and I think the last kit will make it. He's a tough motherfucker, just like Liz. Liz has gotten oxytocin, I am 96% sure she's lactating as a result, and I am pretty sure he's gonna make it. Liz is even tougher than I am. Without me, and without what I learned with you, this last kit would have died with his littermates.

It's my job now, and I am so fiercely defensive of these wabbits that yes, just like any other emergency situation where something I adore is at risk, I can and have been brutal with humans that I feel let me down. I carried on. If I lose this kit, who will be SM Solistice Survivor -- "Sol" if he's a buck, "Soli" if she's a doe -- it's on me.

But that doesn't mean I know everything.

Liz knows I am doing my best. Bess knows I did what I could. Bea knows I loved her very much. I don't even want to think of what I'd give to have them all here now.

I ask your help to let this one kit be the magical one, the one who was tough enough to make it through everything and be the only SMJ kit. I feel like Bea gave up her soul as the only SMF kit, that this little tiny guy might make it. He has soul enough for three or four senior wabbits. But just as I told Liz and Bess, "he needs you,"

I give my own pride up.

This little moose needs you, too.

He could be great. He is so strong. Even the size of a Matchbox car, he wants to kick Liz's ass.

I have paid in blood for these big wabbits. I've paid in tears. I apologize. For everything. I am fierce beyond my words sometimes. I am sorry.

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