Beech Tree News Network

If you’re one of those people who believe in reincarnation, specifically reincarnating as an animal in your next life, you need to put in your cosmic request for a place on Helenberg Road in Covington, Louisiana, owned by Nikki and Thomas Charpentier.  If you are an animal, this is the place you want to be.

I have been house sitting for my daughter and her husband for the past week, and I have loved every minute of it, mainly because they have two dogs and three rabbits.  I arrived a day before their departure in order to go over the instructions.  There were two typed pages—front and back.  

Their dogs, Dexter and Zisou, eat twice per day.  Dexter’s food has to be soaked 30 minutes before hand, because he has tummy issues.  There are measuring cups in each bin of dog food, which are marked with their respective names.  They can have treats, but they have to be chicken only, because Zisou is allergic to all other meats, including kangaroo—Nikki had him tested.  

At night, the dogs and I share a large bed, Dexter under the cover, next to my feet, Zisou on top of the cover, his butt firmly up against my pillow.  We go to bed by nine.  Dexter is an early riser—fiveish or so—and you can lie as still as a corpse, but he is not fooled.  After he crawls out from under the cover and shakes himself, he stands next to me so that we are eyeball to eyeball, and when I haven’t heard any movement for a good ten minutes, and I open my eyes to see where he’s got off too, he is right there, staring me down.  Dexter is a Basenji, they don’t bark.  They don’t have to bark.  They have patience and passive aggressive personalities.  I get up when he wants me to get up.

There are three rabbits who reside at the Charpentier house—two large grays and a cream and umber colored little sweetheart.  I say sweetheart, but actually, the grays have to be separated from the small female rabbit, because she bullies them—the Boss Mare, of sorts.  In the mornings, the rabbits get a digestive tab first then a cup of greens each—there is a measuring cup in the refrigerator atop the containers of organic greens.  They have litter boxes with bedding and hay—western timothy, ordered online, because it has to be pesticide and herbicide free.  Thomas has everything set up so that it’s handy, and it’s no problem to clean out old bedding and add hay. They can have all the hay they can eat, because it is good for their digestion.  At 4:30, they get more greens, and at 7:30, they each get one-half cup of pellets.

All three rabbits are rescues.  I have always admired the way my daughter takes care of outcast animals.  She’s so tender hearted.  The small female rabbit is Butters, and the two large grays are Gandalf and Legolas—a nod to “Lord of the Rings.”  I made sure Nikki went over normal behavior and abnormal behavior for the rabbits, so I would know if I needed to get one of them to the vet.  Sadly, she lost her rabbit, Bobby, to cancer last year, and I wanted to make sure I took good care of these three while she was gone.

Now, you wouldn’t think three rabbits and two dogs could dwell in the same space without conflict, but they do.  They basically ignore one another.  Dexter is an “Eat, Lay, Love” dog and Zisou is a bit more active, but he has separation anxiety and subsequently spends much of his time lying by the door, waiting for Nikki to come home.  When we are outside, he perks up a little, and we play fetch with his tennis ball.

The rabbits are a bit more entertaining.  They hop through the house, in and out of their rabbit castle, their litter boxes and round and round the kitchen table.  Rabbits, like Sheldon Cooper, have their spot, and you are not welcome in it.  Nikki set up her sewing machine on the kitchen table, right over the spot where Gandalf likes to sit underneath.  I brought some clothes to hem, and as I did so, he chewed on the cuff of my pants until I moved.  When I carried the things over to the bar in order to press the seams, Legolas was there chewing on the other cuff.  Evidently, that was his spot.  

Rabbits are territorial.  They “chin” things to mark the item as belonging to them.  A rabbit’s scent glands are under their chins.  They also groom each other and clean their faces like cats do, by licking their paws and wiping their faces with the saliva.  Sometimes, they do this thing where they suddenly flop over onto their sides, like they’re dead.  Thank goodness, Nikki told me about this behavior before she left, or I would have thought the little things were having seizures.  When they flop over like their dead, it means they are extremely happy.  I’ve witnessed this several times while I’ve been here, so I’m feeling pretty good about myself right now.

Well, it’s pellet time, and they are gathering around their bowls.  Can’t mess this up if I want to be invited back.