I love bunnies.
Who doesn't? Many years ago, I had two house rabbits. First Sam, then later Phoebe Marie. They lived in my apartment, hopped around, slept on the sofa. Rabbits are easy to litter box train and are quite quiet like cats. I loved my rabbits.
A few weeks ago, while out on my run, I stopped at the church to water my garden. There, I spotted this little brown cotton tail. I almost missed him; nature was doing it's job very well! Isn't he precious?
It concerned me that I was standing basically right on top of him and he hadn't run away. So I did what any bunny loving pink girl would do and reached down to pick him up. Mary, another community gardener, mentioned to me that they found a dead mother rabbit the day before. I made the assumption that this little fur ball was an orphan. Que sad Sarah Mclachlan. music in the background.
He let me scoop him up without even a flinch. I knew then that something was terribly wrong. Wild rabbits should run. So I decided right then and there to take him home. What? Like I could just set this little critter down after holding his soft tiny body in my hands? Right.
I knew I was equipped to keep him comfortable at home until I could get him some veterinary help. So, the two of us walked home, me holding him securely in my grasp, petting his itty bitty head every so often and assuring him that I would take good care of him.
Once home, I installed him comfortably in our guest room, safe from the prying eyes (and jaws) of the cats. Here he is in his temporary quarters, nibbling on some baby spinach.
Marveling over how tiny and perfect he was, I decided to call him Earl. Knowing full well, that once you name something, it's here to stay. I set him up in a quiet space with dinner and a bed of my shredded personal documents. Every so often I'd peek in, pet his little head and remind him that everything was going to be just fine.
But deep down, I knew better.
Hurt babies bunnies don't often survive. There is a reason rabbits have so many babies.
Sadly, Earl was no exception. He passed away during the night. Of course I cried.
And cried again as I dug his grave out in the backyard. I cried more than one would expect over a wild rabbit named Earl. I'm an animal lover through and through. I think every living thing deserves to die with dignity. I was so glad that Earl could pass away in peace, not gobbled up in his injured state by another wild animal.
To all the Earls in in my life, I'm sorry I can't save you. I tried. But thank you for allowing me to share your life for a while. As much as it hurts to lose you, I wouldn't trade the time we had for anything.