CHAPTER 8 - THE SPA TREATMENT
“Good morning! How’s my little girl?” asked Dad. Abigail, who had been digging in the corner, ran back to her home base where she felt secure, and waited for Dad. It was time for her morning massage – it was not just a pet – it was a massage! Dad knelt down beside her and reached out his hand and paused for approval. She sniffed and then lowered her head.
No matter how busy he was, Dad always made time for this. As he began rubbing her head, he explained, “You know, Abigail, when I was a little boy, my mother would rock me for 10 minutes every morning. No matter how busy she was, she would always make time to do this. And I knew she loved me. So this is our version of that.”
Abigail had learned she could trust Dad, so now she just relaxed and enjoyed the experience. She closed her eyes and sunk into the soft carpet. Ever so slowly, Dad ran his fingers along her nose and through her darling little ears. Though they were the typical short ears of a dwarf rabbit, Abigail would imagine they were long, silky ears as he slowly ran his fingers all the way to the tips. It felt so good. She couldn’t help it, her teeth chattered with approval. Dad gave the best massages! “You’re lucky I studied massage when I was younger,” laughed Dad.
Next, he’d rub her temples and jaw muscles. With all the chewing she did, it felt good to have her jaw muscles massaged. He worked his way around to her neck. That was a touchy spot for her. After all, that’s where predators would grab her, so it had taken her awhile to overcome her instinct to run. Dad would rub her neck muscles, and then her shoulders. And then he moved to the base of her ears. Those muscles were constantly in use as she rotated her ears like radar antennae. He knew just how hard to rub so it felt good but didn’t hurt. It was magic. He ended with the “1000 hands” technique, using both hands, one after another, down her entire body, so it felt like she was being massaged by 1000 hands. She felt worshipped. As a rabbit should!
Sometimes, he’d softly repeat the word “love” to her as he massaged her. Sometimes, he’d sing to her. But most of the time, he would say nothing, and only the soft chirping of birds off in the distance would interrupt the morning silence. Abigail would drift off, almost in a trance. No words needed to be spoken. They communed through touch.
