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My precious little Ginger

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G1rlVeteran

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Even though Ginger was not a bunny I want to share about her. She was rescued from a puppy mill by an amazing organization in Hastings Nebraska. It Start Over Rover. She was a little Brussels Griffon and had been in a cage for 6 years being bred over and over. I adopted her and worked and worked on earning her trust and through this process she became totally bonded exclusively to me. She was my friend, my warm little snuggle bug, and the best unofficial therapy pet I could ever have. Photo_1530163646280.png
 

TreasuredFriend

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We feel the loss. After rescuing so many rabbits from different situations and mainly from humans who don't give a ---- about their welfare and rabbit mill confinement or their eventual surrenders to high-vol shelters, I can relate to how you feel about the loss of a treasured friend from a puppy mill. Like you I've worked with buns who've been neglected and sat in a cage for breeding purposes. Like your situation and rescue experience, the bunnies gained my trust and totally bonded to me. Precious sentient beings.
 

TreasuredFriend

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Very difficult to fathom that individuals feel a pet or animal is simply commodity. I thought my grief was significant when our house cats and lab/retriever passed away. Well, when you establish a bond with a four-legged furry, their death or gentle euthanasia passing is deeply felt. I hear you on therapy pets, earning another living being's trust is very rewarding.
 

TreasuredFriend

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Good to know Ginger had a name, as well. Tons of humans never attempt to name an animal or pet. Pet gets the pronoun "it." he/she, bitch/stud, as I suspect Ginger probably didn't have a name in the breeding mill you rescued her from. Sadness,
 

G1rlVeteran

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She had a lot of problems with her eyes. Brussels Griffons and other breeds like them are prone to eye trouble as it is but I know darn well her eyes were not cared for in the six years she was locked up. When she came to us she had infections in both eyes. The angels at Start Over Rover did their best to get her eyes healthy but I told them that I would take care of them. I just wanted her to come home. I already knew that I would have to be doing some sort of treatment to her eyes as long as she lived based on my knowledge about the breed and my knowledge of the hell hole she had lived in. Her corniae were so scarred that her vision was very impaired. Her first visit to the vet they used these little strips of paper and put one in the bottom lid near the tear duct of each eye to test their tear production. Neither one of her eyes showed ANY tear production! I tried the drops that were supposed to help your eyes produce more tears but after 3 months there was no improvment. Ultimately her tear ducts were completely incapable of producing any tears. So I read all about those expensive eyes ointments. What the ingredients were, how they were manufactured, etc. Then I went to amaAma and bought medical grade petroleum jelly and medical grade mineral oil and produced my own ointment for a fraction of the price of just one small tube of the ointment. So I applied a regimen of ointment and artificial tears in alternation. Back in May she went from being able to navigate the house despite her being nearly blind to suddenly just wandering around seemingly confused. She suddenly was just lying around constantly panting. I knew it was time. I called my dad and he said that he and my brother would come over in the morning. So I spent that last night out in the living room lying next to each other to snuggle for the last night. She got up several times and went to the kitchen and had a bowel movement. They were pretty much just blood. The next day my dad and brother arrived. I snuggled her up into her favorite blanket. We drove to a secluded spot in the country. it was beautiful. I took her to a thicket of wild prairie grass and put her down still snuggled in the blanket. I kissed her and stroked her head for the last time and then ran to the yrtru. My brother drove me down the road a bit and we cranked the radio. When we came back my dad got into the truck very quiet and somber. He wiped down his pistol as we drove away. I knew that it was instant. That is how we send our pets to the rainbow bridge. No clinical setting, no smell of disinfectant. No IV inserted. My dad puts a single bullet into their heads just behind the ear. We leave their bodies there where they can provide nourishment to the other creatures and also the very grass in which I had placed her.
 

G1rlVeteran

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I forgot to explain that because I get so attached to the animals I told my husband that he will have to care for the rabbits that will be bred for meat. I refuse to even help to dress them to be put away in the freezer. We have two ducks my husband had bought without them being sexed. We plan on having a constant supply of duck eggs but, they turned out to be drakes. I can't let them be killed because I named them and took the time to tame them. Then came our mini lops. Our pair which I named Morty and Dolly. Soon after came our Flemish Giant New Zealand doe mix which I named Jessica. I told my husband that he needs to stop buying animals first and then researching how to care for them later.
 
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