Even among the numerous — though comparatively insignificant — beta fish that’ve come through our home, my family’s most beloved pet was our lop-eared rabbit, Duncan. He was taken away from us most gruesomely by a ravenous fox early in 2007, but we still talk about him as if he were still around. He was sweetly affectionate, surprisingly charming and friendly, though a little mischievious. But most importantly, he was my brother.
Bananas were his heroin. He couldn’t focus on anything or relax if he didn’t get his daily dose from Papa. This is what having a pet is really about: Nurturing, caring and being responsible for something other than oneself, and loving and appreciating every ounce of its being — quirks and all. Though non-pet owners probably can’t relate, having Duncan around made me realize it’s possible to love something other than the individuals who’ve been around me all my life. In any case, we loved him in spite of all his faults: His penchant for biting telephone wires, hiding (from Amy, probably) under beds, or flipping over his water dish in frustration.
Bananas were his heroin. He couldn’t focus on anything or relax if he didn’t get his daily dose from Papa. This is what having a pet is really about: Nurturing, caring and being responsible for something other than oneself, and loving and appreciating every ounce of its being — quirks and all. Though non-pet owners probably can’t relate, having Duncan around made me realize it’s possible to love something other than the individuals who’ve been around me all my life. In any case, we loved him in spite of all his faults: His penchant for biting telephone wires, hiding (from Amy, probably) under beds, or flipping over his water dish in frustration.
I miss him immensely, and though he’s been gone for 3 1/2 years, I still can’t seem to let go.
Here’s to you, darling.
Sunny out Dunks
(Originally posted July 22, 2010)
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