Notes From A Walkman Junkie: “It’s Not A Toomah.” It Was A Toomah, Actually.
This story begins like many other horrific things in life–with an attempt to groom and/or bathe my pet bunny. I was clipping my bunny’s nails, as they had nearly reached the Nosferatu level of ridiculousness, with the assistance of my helpful companion (it is a two person bunny undertaking, maybe three if the bunny is in a particularly foul mood and you just moved the bunny into a new place where the bunny believes that the shiny concrete floor is the most terrifying shit that the bunny has ever seen and the bunny is convinced that if one mere paw touches it, immediate embarrassment and, obviously, death are sure to follow).
While clipping the nails on the final front paw, I noticed something that seemed slightly strange under the bunny’s leg (a dangling small round object, strongly resembling a nasty, black heart-looking testicle-like barfy fucking thing). I, naturally remained remarkably calm (scrambled back two feet away like a crab) and asked my clipping companion what he thought the newly discovered oddity might be (“What the bloody christ is that veiny gruesome shit ball thing attached to my bunny!!?”).
This unsettling foreign object detection occurred rather late in the evening so I placed a call to the vet first thing in the morning, describing the infliction as a tumor like growth, about the size of a large grape and was instantly put at ease by the voice on the other end whispering, “Oh my god, no..” before penciling my bunny in for an appointment the following day.
Transporting the bunny to the vet’s office also required the assistance of my companion and a mild sedative for me. Once we arrived, I began filling out the important bunny forms consisting of many basic questions like “What is the bunny’s name?” and “Is the bunny male or female?” I respectfully answered these questions to the best of my knowledge: “Edgar Esther Constabulary” (the entire office staff referred to my bunny by all three names for the duration of our time there) and “Not really sure–I did not want to invade the bunny’s privacy, but I am hoping that the bunny is a boy because I have referred to the bunny as such for three and one half years now.”
After the paperwork was complete, we were led into a small room where the vet and her nurse began to examine Edgar Esther Constabulary and a series of traumatic events rapidly unfolded. Within seconds, we were curtly informed, “It’s a girl” and then Edgar Esther Constabulary struggled vigorously out of the nurse’s hands and the growth ball flew off of Edgar Esther Constabulary’s leg and sprayed tumor blood across my companion’s face and landed on the table and then many little poops shot out of Edgar Esther Constabulary and I instinctively lunged forward to scoop them up exactly like when JFK was assassinated and then the doctor looked at the tumor and my companion asked, hoping to receive some kind of reassurance, “Are those pretty common on bunnies?” and the vet bluntly answered, “No, I have never seen anything like this in my life–have a good day–we will call you later” and then handed us some beef and cheese flavored doggy pain medication.
Fortunately, after further testing, the tumor was pronounced benign (as well as common, ahem) and Edgar Esther Constabulary is in perfect health, aside from the presumed lifetime of mental scarring due to the whole “I thought you were a boy for three and one half years” thing.
I am attaching “I Was Wrong” by The Morning Benders for your enjoyment. Sorry, Ms. Edgar.