Joint Effort

A short story I wrote during my wage slave days

Caitlin kept an anxious eye out for an available taxi as she carried her son’s new rabbit home. The human traffic that slowed her progress snaked down this street and beyond, seething with all the moodiness that five o’clock was known to inflict. The last thing she needed was a stray elbow in her side, shooting the box out of her hands and into a path of impatient drivers. It had taken her long enough to find the gift.

She shuffled through the throng and glanced nervously at her watch. Being someone whose usual sign-off was closer to nine, this was the first time in weeks she’d escaped while the sun was still up, and it looked like she’d be getting home late regardless. She thought of Ethan and dreaded to think how much resentment awaited her at the other end. She’d become rather unknowable lately, she knew that. When told that his birthday was approaching, she’d actually had to stop and remember which one it was. Fourth, that was it. 2015 ... 2016 ... 2017 ... yes, had to be the fourth. Things at work had just been so progressive, it was costing her a home life. But it was mad to decline pennies from heaven. Rule one of gambling was that you never walked away from a winning streak, they didn’t last forever. She’d promised to atone for it eventually, and felt she was honouring that promise well enough now, at the peak of inner-city stuffiness.

Happily, Ethan’s birthday coincided with Easter. Second week in April, this year anyway. It frustrated her that Good Friday’s date was one of infinite variation. If baby Jesus was born on December twenty-fifth, the day of his crucifying should’ve been just as cemented. But it had chosen the right weekend in this instance, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. Children went through all sorts of phases, but few outshone the wonder of owning your first pet. What’s more, she could tell Ethan that this one was the Easter Bunny come to live with them, having been in need of a new home and found himself drawn to theirs, for some irresistible reason she was still working on. He’d be thrilled. It would also provide extra company during the long afternoons that she worked late, which these days was almost every afternoon.

In keeping with this story, she’d been at pains to pick out the cutest bunny on display. Even a four-year-old would recognised that certain figures needed to be pristine. After four different pet stores, there he was. Tiny paws, cream fur, a twitching sprout of magnificent whiskers, and the crown jewel, long floppy ears of a charcoal shade. And at eight weeks old, he fit perfectly into her palms. Now she faced the near-impossible mission of getting him back to the flat, all too aware that she’d be the last one home. The babysitter had spent most of the day baking Ethan a cake and throwing him a party. Hopefully, his final gift would prove a sufficient distraction. Even so, there’d been no time for excessive shopping. Upon choosing the creature, she would’ve bolted out of the shop, were it not for the clerk’s insistent advice on early feeding and health tips.

‘He’s a cutie, alright,’ the girl had said, as Caitlin’s Visa disappeared beneath the web of her gauchely-painted fingernails. ‘What do you think you’ll name him?’

‘He’s not for me,’ Caitlin replied, head down as she worked the card terminal. ‘Birthday present for my boy.’

‘Oh, happy birthday to him. How old is he?’

‘Four.’

‘Cool. As long as, you know, you’re around too.’

Caitlin shook her head, nose slightly turned up. She hated it when people said you know. ‘I work during the day. That’s where this is coming from. Extra company in the afternoons.’

‘Oh okay. Um ... your husband, then? Or partner?’

Caitlin shot her a look that couldn’t be mistaken.

‘Or ... anyone who couldn’t come over to -?’

‘Can I have the receipt to sign?’

The girl handed it to her.

‘He’ll do fine,’ Caitlin said flatly. ‘Might be nice to see him work hard to look after something.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Ah ... I think, kids - ’

‘Joking, love.’

‘Oh.’ She forced a smile as fake as silicone, meaning she didn’t believe it was a joke at all. Her pineapple bubble gum, which Caitlin could smell from where she stood, halted behind brace-gridded front teeth and a silver-tinted pink lipstick that only a teenager would wear. Snow Berries. Too subtle for Caitlin, who preferred the blunter sirens of Midnight Maroon and Bedroom Burgundy. She didn’t face the girl long enough to read every crinkle, but the puzzlement they blared was too loud to miss.

‘How ’bout older siblings?’

‘I’m running late for his party ...’

‘Sorry, it’s just ... if you don’t mind my saying, four’s a little young to be looking after an animal yourself.’

‘I do mind your saying.’

‘Pardon me. It’s just that children -’ 

‘Are never too young to learn responsibility,’ Caitlin said. ‘Might as well start with cuddly animals, which are the most fun way to learn. I wish I’d received something at that age that required constant care and attention. Might’ve primed me for the even bigger things in life that do.’

‘Sure, but younger children need more help than older ones. They’re not old enough to understand that animals are not like toys. My niece once squeezed her kitten to death. Not intentionally, but she was three at the time. Her parents -’

‘Honey, I have somewhere I need to be.’

She thanked the girl for her assistance and headed out of the store. It felt like hours before she finally found a cab, the box hole filled with a sniffing nose as she slammed the door with exasperated force. A tip of charcoal ear slid out from underneath the cardboard flaps.

‘What’ve you got there?’ the driver asked.

‘Rabbit. Fifty-ninth and park, please.’

‘Man, I always wanted a rabbit when I was a kid. My brother ruined our chances. He told our mum that he wanted a guinea pig so she got him one. He spent about five minutes playing with it and then said, - It looks a bit like a rat and I don’t want to play with it anymore.” She had to find it a better home. Never got us another pet after that, no matter how much we promised to treat it better on the second try.’

‘Take me to fifty-ninth and park, please.’

He slapped on his right blinker and swung into the traffic flow.

It worked. When she pulled the furry critter out of his box, all bitterness abated.

‘This is the new Easter bunny,’ she declared, holding him out to Ethan, whose eyes blazed with elation. ‘The last one has retired, so they needed someone to take his place. And until he’s gotten the hang of delivering goodies, he needs a place to stay. When he saw our flat, he just knew.’

‘This is the Easter bunny? Not just a bunny, but the Easter bunny?’

She rolled with the awe. ‘The new leader of the pack. Someone who’d have his pick of any kid, in any town, in any country. So it’s a big deal that he chose you, baby. Take good care of him. He’s no ordinary rabbit.’ She scratched the star rabbit between the ears. ‘Isn’t he cute?’

‘Cute!’ Ethan cried, and took the animal into his room.

The first day ran smoothly enough. By the second, however, Caitlin received a phone call that the pet - whom Ethan named Ringo - wasn’t being himself. He seemed ill, sluggish, having not budged from his cage since seven am. Caitlin tensed up. The other animals in Ethan’s room never moved their eyes, much less their mouths. He wasn’t used to the difference.

‘Ethan, I’m at work. Can’t we talk about this later? I’m expecting important calls.’

‘But you said he made a big choice in trusting me, Mum. I can’t keep him waiting if he’s counting on me.’

‘Right, right. Did you give him his breakfast?’

‘Of course.’

‘How much?’

‘About two spoonfuls.’

‘He’ll need more than that, honey. He’s a growing lad. He can’t hope around sufficiently on two spoons of fuel. Give him some more and see what happens.’

The next day saw another worried call. This time the rabbit had been vomiting. She arrived home to check his cage, which was indeed becoming a mess. Grainy regurgitation caked the shavings. He shifted limply from one corner to another, a glazed look in his beady eyes. Ethan was growing panicked, and Caitlin was growing impatient. Lackaday, lackaday, she thought. She couldn’t find anything green in Ringo’s partially digested deposits, supporting her fear that Ethan wasn’t feeding him.

‘This is all part of owning a pet,’ she told him firmly. ‘Even the Easter bunny. He may be more elite than most rabbits, but even the elite need nutrition. How else can they perform their duties?’

‘What does elite mean?’

‘Special. Besides, he’s only just been given the job. He’s still learning, so he needs all the push he can get. If you don’t give that to him, he won’t be up to the task. You’ve got to be more on to it than this.’

‘I have been on to it,’ he said, welling up. ‘I’ve been giving him fuel, Mum. Every single day.’

‘Ethan! Look at him. Does that look like a bunny who’s been getting enough to eat? He needs three meals a day,  and in decent portions.’

‘That’s what I’ve been doing. But he doesn’t seem to like them.’

‘Try mixing the food with water, then. It might be too hard for him. He’s only little; his teeth won’t be very strong yet. Everyone needs to adapt. When you were born, you couldn’t chomp down on a steak sandwich. Everything you ate needed softening. Can you try that?’

He nodded.

‘When something isn’t working,’ she said, ‘you have to consider other possibilities. That’s how life works - searching for options. Not being neglectful. Neglect could lead to even bigger problems for Ringo than an empty stomach.’

‘I haven’t been neglecting him. I would never neglect the Easter bunny.’

‘Then try harder. I’m warning you for the last time.’

By the end of the week, Ringo could barely move. Every swallow was a strain, every breath an exhausting effort. If his eyes were still functioning, they didn’t recognise what they beheld. He couldn’t spend one more minute under Ethan’s care. He’d barely spent thirty with the vet before they located the problem, which couldn’t begin to disguise itself as anything less than intestinal failure. Ethan keeled over and wept. But Caitlin came down hard about it. He didn’t listen to her, she said. From behind unruly tears, he swore that he had. Every day on the dot, he’d had food prepared in a generous quantity. He included water with every helping and taste-tested the meals first. Caitlin was not willing to bank on his assertions. The evidence made things pretty clear by six o’clock that evening, when the vet confirmed that Ringo had, as he worded it to Ethan, ‘headed to that giant clover patch in the sky’.

Cashed in his chips, to put it an even dumber way, Caitlin thought grumpily. Why not. Yanked the croak chain. Ain’t going to stop at Wal-Mart no more. Is having a very important meeting with ol’ Mr. Grim and can’t take any calls. For Christ’s sake, just tell him that the rabbit died. Death is something that Ethan will eventually face. The whimsical bullshit will only confuse him. When school begins he’ll start learning about where the sun goes every night and what clouds are made of. How confronting do you think it’ll be when he realises that clover can’t grow on evaporated water molecules?

But the vet certainly was milking it.

‘In bunny heaven there are no fleas, no foxes, no cars, no diseases,’ he told Ethan. ‘The only vehicles that do exist are made entirely of fresh, crispy cabbage. It’s never cold, it never rains, and every new arrival gets a free pair of novelty ear muffs.’

‘If it’s never cold,’ asked a sniffling Ethan, ‘why would they need ear muffs?’

‘For the novelty.’

See?! Caitlin thought, barely containing a groan. Ringo hasn’t been gone for an hour and Ethan’s already questioning the logic snags in his new domain. She marched her son out of the clinic and drove them home.

‘I don’t know how this happened!’ Ethan cried.

‘I do. I told you again and again but you didn’t listen. You don’t have what it takes to look after a real animal. They’re not toys, Ethan.’

‘But, Mum -’

And now they’l have to find another new Easter bunny. You’ll have caused them a lot of trouble. This is what happens when you’re not conscientious.’

‘Con ... cons ... c-c-con -’

‘Yes, attentive. Taking note of things.’

Ethan cried for the rest of the drive. Caitlin knew that she was being harsh, and didn’t enjoy bringing the gavel down this heavily. In her own way, she was as saddened by the loss as he was. But hiding that grief behind anger was more likely to make the lesson stick with him. A child had to understand, at the youngest age possible, that recklessness could entail dire situations and, in this case, tragedy that could’ve been easily prevented. The more severe the misfortune, the better. They wouldn’t be forgetting it in a hurry.

The next morning they buried Ringo in the backyard and held a short eulogy. Ethan then had ten minutes to get ready for daycare. While he brushed his teeth down the hall, Caitlin began the process of erasing Ringo’s emotional footprints. She went to the kitchen to dispose of the remaining food packets, too indignant to consider passing them on to fellow resident pet-owners. Pushing aside some containers, she took down the box that contained them. To her alarm, none had been opened. They were all crammed with pellets and sealed air-tight.

‘I knew it!’ she cried. ‘I knew that Ethan hadn’t been feeding him. That was money well-spent. Now I have to clean up the mess.’

​She headed into his bedroom and began to dismantle the cage piece by piece, plotting the next speech in her head as she worked. He’d been through a lot over the past few days, she could hardly dispute that. But more alertness would’ve caused a better result than this empty cage, which she’d nearly demolished before a handful of rainbow-coloured rubbish fell out. Leaning closer to inspect the heap, she identified its contents as dozens of chocolate egg wrappers.

Reviews

[Pennywriter]

This is a harsh and meaningful story. It is very interesting. Dare I ask: have you been through a similar situation during your "wage slave days"? This story made me really curious...

[Linxer]

Thanks Pennywriter! 🤗 I have, yes. I worked in retail for over 13 years, so had a chance to see some true originals. Impatient mothers who'd born the brunt of the school holidays would frequently drop their kids off to our store as if we were a babysitting service, expecting kids as young as four to know how to look after themselves. My sister used to work at the zoo and you can imagine how much worse that was, rescuing kids trying to climb into animal enclosures while the parents looked the other way. A child raised on friendly cartoon lions will not grasp the fact that real-life lions are neither talkative nor especially friendly. Caitlin is an amalgamation of that snooty kind of parent who's so focused on "hardening" their kid, they forget that a five-year-old's head can only take so much lack of explanation.

[Pennywriter]

Thank you for your very interesting reply. Truly appreciated.