Comments on: The meaning of power.

By: sanabituranima

sanabituranima — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 00:09:21 +0000

“I am also not trying to make anyone feel guilty. Feeling guilty is not useful after you’ve been reminded enough of what you’ve done, or have the potential to do. Figuring out what to do, is more useful.”
Those words should be painted in ten-foot-high-letters everywhere.

My family has a guinea pig named Donkey who is in an indoor hutch, alone, with virtually nothing to do. She often runs up and down for no reason that my family could work out. She often makes squeaking noises that sound like little screams. She gets really hyperly excited when there is salad in the room.

That all makes a lot more sense now.

We have a cat. Letting Donkey run free indoors is unlikely to be safe.

So, the right thing is either to find her another home, or have a cat-proof room and a friend for her.

By: salana

salana — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 04:48:40 +0000

It’s not that nobody should keep a rabbit indoors, it’s that they should bunny-proof the rooms the rabbit has access to. You wouldn’t yell at a toddler for drinking the Drano out of the sink cabinet, you’d lock the cabinet so she couldn’t open it.

By: David Harmon

David Harmon — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 19:57:48 +0000

I used to have a rabbit. He was very friendly and affectionate, even communicative. I did realize his case was way too small to stay in long-term, so I let him out whenever I was home, including at night.

But the thing is, I paid for that, big-time! That guy vandalized everything he could reach, in two apartments. He liked to sleep with me on my bed, but he also tended to piss the bed in his sleep. He killed all my plants, including eating through a Euphorbia that supposedly has caustic sap. (He chewed the spines of first.) He chewed holes in clothes, books, and carpets. He damaged furniture, eventually undermining my bookshelf to the point of collapse. (I got steel bookshelves after that.) Especially, he chewed through every wire within reach, and I had multiple computer systems! I called those years “the war of the wires”, as I kept having to splice phone lines, tried to move wires out of reach, and (unsuccessfully) looked for something that would make the wires taste bad to him.

If I hadn’t loved that guy so much, he’d have been stew several times over… instead, he lived to die of apparent old age, found in his “relaxed” posture. But I’m never going to recommend that somebody else keep a rabbit indoors!

By: PaFoua

PaFoua — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 02:09:53 +0000

I think your post is amazing. I am trying to do a paper on the power dynamics in my relationship with my childhood friend and me, and you have really inspired me to think on a broader scope. Thank you.

By: elmindreda

elmindreda — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 02:29:18 +0000

This is exactly what I’m trying to put into words and failed rather badly to illustrate by example the last time around. Perhaps I should try a similar approach.

By: Ballastexistenz » Blog Archive » Myth-Debunking, and an additional myth

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 11:50:13 +0000

[…] When people interested in the rights of rabbits tell me that keeping rabbits in hutches with no stimulation grievously harms the rabbit, I do not tell them, “I put my rabbit in a hutch before. And that was right for my rabbit. Please tell me that was okay. I’m a good person. Really. I petted my rabbit. I fed my rabbit and gave him water every day. I’m not a monster. I didn’t do anything wrong. I loved my rabbit. And I was only a kid. Don’t hold it against me.” […]

By: Eli's mom

Eli's mom — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 21:22:57 +0000

Yeah–we kind of like ours and kind of don’t. He’a a sort of a “rescue” that my son brought home from a friend’s house. The friend’s dad was violently disliked by the bird. So now he lives here, squawking, whistling, chatting us up and shrieking and wishing he could answer the phone.
He most adores my teenage daughter–inexplicably. I feed him, I clean his cage, I buy him fun new toys, I talk to him, yet he adores her. Figures.

By: ballastexistenz

ballastexistenz — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 20:58:48 +0000

My friend is owned by a Quaker parrot. He's... really something. (He kind of likes me and kind of doesn't, and I kind of like him and kind of don't.)

By: Eli's mom

Eli's mom — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 20:42:17 +0000

We have a house full of animals–three dogs, five cats, a guinea pig (her name is Prince)a couple of fishtanks, a Quaker parrot, and a degu. Until a few days ago, we also had a lop-eared rabbit name Monty. She had been a stray bunny probably dumped by someone after her Easter cuteness wore off. We had called our local Humane shelter, inquiring about lost rabbits, but there were no reports of missing bunnies, so we dragged the spare bunny cage out of the garage and kept her. She detested the cage so much. We discovered that she was litter-trained and moved her to our basement, where she was able to run and play–free. Last week, she discovered the doggy-door at the top of the basement stairs. The weather was warm and she made her way outdoors. Our cats and dogs didn’t bother her. She was a pet, and they knew it, somehow.
My neighbor sorta chided me for not capturing her and returning her to a cage “for her own good.” But I didn’t have the heart. She languished in a cage–she wanted to be outdoors, and besides, she was too dang quick to catch–I did try on several occasions.
One evening I drove my teenage daughter to her very first job interview, and as we drove down our street, I saw an animal in the road. It looked like a possum at first, but I couldn’t tell. On the way home, I slowed enough to take a good luck–it was Monty. She had been hit by a car. She wasn’t mangled, there was one small drop of blood by her head. She was still warm, but gone.
When I got home, I took a box and walked down to retrieve her. All I could say to her was, “Well, you were free and happy for a time. That’s all most of us get, bunny.” I buried her in the backyard the next morning, after the kids had gone to school. The little ones don;t know, and it’s going to be one of those mysterious disapperances. I don’t have the heart to tell them. Poor Monty. RIP.

By: ballastexistenz

ballastexistenz — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 15:13:00 +0000

I bet the wild mouse was too terrified to bite you, actually. I haven’t dealt with mice a lot, but in wildlife rescue we had a lot of birds who were less aggressive when utterly terrified. (And utterly terrified birds can die from the physiological effects of terror, so that was something we tried to prevent in a number of ways.)