...to a fantastic rabbit.
I'll begin by saying that I can't remember when I got my rabbit, Oreo, because I had had her that long. I want to say, at earliest guess, that I got her when I was 13, but in talking with my mom, we think I was actually 11 or 12. Mind you, I am 24 now (that's a long time).
Let me start at the beginning, when little 11-13 year old-ish me was called down into the living room by my mother. She said she had something to ask me, and like all children, I figured I was in trouble for something. But she simply sat me down, and said "if we got you a pet rabbit, would you promise to take care of it?" I just kind of sat there, stupified, because I was caught off guard. Also, OF COURSE I WANTED A RABBIT. Some coworker of hers had bunnies, and said bunnies had babies, and within a short time, I had Oreo. She was just past the age where rabbits can be separated from their mothers, so pretty much a baby still.
At first, like all kids with pets, I would forget to feed her, or forget to give her water, or be lazy and not clean her cage, and my mom would end up doing it. But with aging comes (supposed) maturity, and she officially become MY rabbit. As soon as I got a job, I bought the supplies, I bought the food, I bought the necessities, and she was MY baby. And I loved her a lot. She was a fantastic pet - she never bit ANYONE, she was never mean, she would sit still as long as you pet her, and she was amazingly intelligent. I would say "RABBIT!" really loud if she was going somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, and she would instantly turn around and go to some other part of the room. She also recognized me, and would poke her nose through the cage bars when I approached, but not for anybody else. She knew the sound of different food bags, and all in all, she was just a great rabbit.
Well, fast forward to, maybe a year ago now, and I noticed that there was a weird lump on her belly. I took her to the vet, and while they were able to remove it, they told me it was cancer, and that eventually it would potentially spread to her lungs or brain, and would quickly be the end of her. So, with that depressing news in mind, I took her back home and just made sure to keep an eye out for any other lumps that might pop up.
Nothing ever did come up as far as I could tell (there's only so much external evaluating you can do with an animal). However, in the past month or so, I noticed that she had really started to slow down a lot. It was tough to watch, but again. she was AT LEAST 11 years old; probably closer to 13. She would still beg for treats, and frolic around her cage, but mostly she would just sit. I also noticed that she had stopped eating and drinking. Now, her cage is four levels tall, with the food on the 3rd level. She had been hanging out on the bottom level, and it dawned on me that she was just too old to get up to the 3rd level to get her food and water. So I moved it to the bottom, and she gobbled the food, and it seemed to help her out a lot.
Cut to this past Thursday (the 5th of August). I got home from work, and I noticed that she had not been drinking or eating again. This time, though, she was sitting on the 3rd level, and breathing heavily. So I got a spare water bottle and hung it up in the cage right next to her, and she sat and drank for a good five minutes. So, I figured, ok, I'll just leave food and water on the first and third levels, so that she had options. Well, she stayed in the same spot on the 3rd level for the rest of the night, and as I went to bed, I knew that the heavy breathing was a bad, bad sign, because the same pattern happened with my previous cat; it's usually a sign that their hearts are failing.
I got up on Friday morning, and she was still sitting in the exact same spot that she had been in the night before, except the food and water that I had placed near her were absolutely untouched. I had also cleaned the bottom level the night before, so I could tell that she hadn't been down there at all. I petted her for a bit, and she sat there quietly like she always did. It was at that point that I knew it was not good. I decided to move her to the bottom of the cage, simply because she would have more room to lay out and be comfortable, and I put her directly beneath the water bottle, and moved the bowl of food directly in front of her mouth. She still just sat there, looking at me, breathing heavily. I sat by the cage for awhile, just watching her, and hoping for the situation to suddenly turn around for the better, but in the very back of my mind, the voice I was trying to ignore was telling me that things were not going in her or my favor.
Driving to work after that was really hard, because I was a complete wreck of a person. Now, I am not one to cry at the drop of a hat, but I was having a really difficult time keeping my composure, and I lost it at multiple points on my drive in, and while I was sitting at my desk. I kept telling myself "she just needs the food and water, she'll be fine", but like I said before, the logical voice in the back of my head knew full well what was going on. I figured that, best scenario, she would last until through the weekend, and I would probably have to take her to the vet to have her put down on Monday.
At least, that's the best-worst-case-scenario I was hoping for. My biggest fear, and the fear that I had for YEARS once she started getting old, was that I would come home to find that she had already passed away.
Well, I left work at 5, and went to pick up my friend Ronnie because we were going to go to
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tenel_ka 's house to play games and such. I needed to stop at home first to meet up with my boyfriend and to make sure she was ok, so I did, and it was then that I realized that all that I had been fearing had come to pass, because she had died sometime while I was at work that day.
Even when you know something terrible is coming, you don't want to admit it. I collected myself as well as I could, told Jeremy to take Ronnie over to
tenel_ka . I heard them leave, and I just kind of collapsed onto the floor and finally lost it. She was my joy, and I still can't remember a time when she wasn't around. I just petted her head, and told her that I would always love her, and tried to collect my wits enough to decide what to do with her body. Previous rodents, like hampsters and guinea pigs, we had thrown away. But she actually meant something. I couldn't do that to her. So I called the vet, and they said that they do cremations. The woman on the phone was incredibly sweet, and it made the whole thing slightly more bearable. I then called my mom, who was on her way home from work, and she told me to wait for her. So I wrapped Oreo up in a towel, and just sat with her in my lap until my mom arrived back home, with jeremy in tow. My mom drove, and we all went to the vet together. I filled out some paperwork, and then I handed Oreo over; the last time I would ever see my precious bunny. At that point, compusure went out the window and I just wanted to be out of the vet's office. We drove back home in silence.
The plan for that weekend was to go to Philadelphia to see my grandma and go to the zoo, so once we got home, we packed up the car and headed out again. In retrospect, I probably should have stayed home, because for the rest of the weekend, I just could not get over the loss of Oreo, and I had no desire to spend any time talking to anyone about anything. I kind of walked around like a zombie at the zoo, and faked as many happy emotions as I could, but there was just this hollow feeling that followed me around; the world around me could have crumbled and I don't think I would have batted an eyelid.
By Sunday, I was more able to act like a normal human being, but the melancholy feeling was still buried there, and to be honest, it's still hovering around a bit.
I'd say I'm back to normal now, and I've even gotten to the point where I can talk and joke about my little Oreo again, but I do find myself talking to the empty cage that is still sitting in my basement, and taking quick glances there to see the rabbit before I remember that she isn't there anymore.
I've already begun the process to get a new bunny, but only because I cannot go on without one. I don't want to replace Oreo by any means, because she was amazing, but I need that sound of scurrying and digging behind me when I sew, and I need to see shuffling out of the corner of my eye when I watch t.v. again.
Now that I've got you all down in the dumps, I'll leave you with something amusing: All of the adoption places seem to be run by very..uhm, gentle ladies, we will call them. I've sent out a few emails, saying that I'd lost an old rabbit and was looking into new ones, and one place responded with "I'm so sorry to hear that your bunny crossed the Rainbow Bridge"
o_o wtf is a rainbow bridge.....And that's that.
