This is absolutely heartbreaking for me to write, but last night I lost my little Joey buns.
He had been hiding a tumor on his stomach, a health problem that bunnies are unfortunately subject to. We hadn't caught it; he still binkied and grumped and explored and begged for treats and was much his usual self until this past weekend when he started going downhill. We took him into the emergency vet yesterday afternoon (nearly a 3 hr drive from the remote place we are stuck at now). I think it was worth the drive, because I could see the x-ray and see what was wrong and we were able to get some pain medicine in him, so his last few hours did not hurt.
I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to him at the vets', so we brought him home, and he passed away while we were driving back (like I said, nearly a 3 hour drive). He died in my arms, so I know he was warm and loved until the end, and I hope that he could tell that too. He gave me a few kisses on the car ride home, a rarity (he never was a kissy bunny) and though he was fading noticeably over the drives down and back, he didn't leave me until I could honestly tell him that he didn't need to be brave any more, that if he had to go, he could go. It was shortly after that that he left me. I am not one of those people who reads TONS of meaning into my pets' activities, but this is one of those cases where I do think that he was looking out for me.
Joey was one of those special pets that comes along. I had him for nearly 5 years (would have been 5 in July) so I think he was about 6, as I adopted him from someone else. He was the first pet in my life that was "mine" not "the family's". And he was definitely "Mama's buns." My husband was... well, tolerated but Joey never really warmed to Zach the way he did to me. But then, for nearly 2 1/2 years, it was just Joey and me. Joey was with me through a very trying time in my life - being alone in that place at that time, I needed him badly. While I was in South Carolina dealing with the wonderful coworkers and clients at Horrible Job, Joey was the one constant bright spot in my days. Zach was elsewhere in the country for different trainings, and Mom and Anne were still back in VA, but Joey was there for me. I could come home and have him to play with and share my salad fixins with, and relax a bit. I honestly still feel that if I hadn't had him then, I wouldn't have made it through that point in my life nearly as well as I did.
I took Joey into Town today to have him cremated. My mother-in-law has already said that we can spread his ashes at their garden back home (her "garden" is almost an acre - they live on a farm). It is on a hill, so my little climber will have a good view up on a hill and plenty of veggies surrounding him. I think it will be a good place for him. I talked to him the whole way into Town today, telling him all about the garden and how much he would like it there, and about the Rainbow Bridge and the other sweet pets we know who will be his welcoming committee there.
I think this is extra heartbreaking for me because Joey will be my first and last bunny. Zach is very allergic to hay, but knew that Joey was important enough to me to not fight having him when we moved in together. Zach only came into my life about 2 months before Joey did, but Joey was actually with me the whole time, while Zach was stationed about. Zach knew that Joey was important, and it is something I have appreciated a lot these last few years . Zach did like him though - he went and picked some flowers for Joey this morning, a hard thing to do in the desert, even in spring. Even though Joey was a Mama's Buns, Zach will miss him too. He was a very special bunny.
I'm sorry if this post is incoherent or rambling; I am still crying a lot as I write this up. People may not understand how much personality and love you can have from "just a bunny" but most of our friends have had a special pet, and can understand the loss. When Harvey (Anne's cat) died recently, she found a quote by Leo Dworken. "No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch." That's such a good quote, and so true for many pets, not just cats.
Joey, you will always have a very special place in my heart. You will always be my baby bunny.
He had been hiding a tumor on his stomach, a health problem that bunnies are unfortunately subject to. We hadn't caught it; he still binkied and grumped and explored and begged for treats and was much his usual self until this past weekend when he started going downhill. We took him into the emergency vet yesterday afternoon (nearly a 3 hr drive from the remote place we are stuck at now). I think it was worth the drive, because I could see the x-ray and see what was wrong and we were able to get some pain medicine in him, so his last few hours did not hurt.
I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to him at the vets', so we brought him home, and he passed away while we were driving back (like I said, nearly a 3 hour drive). He died in my arms, so I know he was warm and loved until the end, and I hope that he could tell that too. He gave me a few kisses on the car ride home, a rarity (he never was a kissy bunny) and though he was fading noticeably over the drives down and back, he didn't leave me until I could honestly tell him that he didn't need to be brave any more, that if he had to go, he could go. It was shortly after that that he left me. I am not one of those people who reads TONS of meaning into my pets' activities, but this is one of those cases where I do think that he was looking out for me.
Joey was one of those special pets that comes along. I had him for nearly 5 years (would have been 5 in July) so I think he was about 6, as I adopted him from someone else. He was the first pet in my life that was "mine" not "the family's". And he was definitely "Mama's buns." My husband was... well, tolerated but Joey never really warmed to Zach the way he did to me. But then, for nearly 2 1/2 years, it was just Joey and me. Joey was with me through a very trying time in my life - being alone in that place at that time, I needed him badly. While I was in South Carolina dealing with the wonderful coworkers and clients at Horrible Job, Joey was the one constant bright spot in my days. Zach was elsewhere in the country for different trainings, and Mom and Anne were still back in VA, but Joey was there for me. I could come home and have him to play with and share my salad fixins with, and relax a bit. I honestly still feel that if I hadn't had him then, I wouldn't have made it through that point in my life nearly as well as I did.
I took Joey into Town today to have him cremated. My mother-in-law has already said that we can spread his ashes at their garden back home (her "garden" is almost an acre - they live on a farm). It is on a hill, so my little climber will have a good view up on a hill and plenty of veggies surrounding him. I think it will be a good place for him. I talked to him the whole way into Town today, telling him all about the garden and how much he would like it there, and about the Rainbow Bridge and the other sweet pets we know who will be his welcoming committee there.
I think this is extra heartbreaking for me because Joey will be my first and last bunny. Zach is very allergic to hay, but knew that Joey was important enough to me to not fight having him when we moved in together. Zach only came into my life about 2 months before Joey did, but Joey was actually with me the whole time, while Zach was stationed about. Zach knew that Joey was important, and it is something I have appreciated a lot these last few years . Zach did like him though - he went and picked some flowers for Joey this morning, a hard thing to do in the desert, even in spring. Even though Joey was a Mama's Buns, Zach will miss him too. He was a very special bunny.
I'm sorry if this post is incoherent or rambling; I am still crying a lot as I write this up. People may not understand how much personality and love you can have from "just a bunny" but most of our friends have had a special pet, and can understand the loss. When Harvey (Anne's cat) died recently, she found a quote by Leo Dworken. "No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch." That's such a good quote, and so true for many pets, not just cats.
Joey, you will always have a very special place in my heart. You will always be my baby bunny.
Joseph B. Buns. Mr. Inquisi-nose. My little grumpus. King of the Mountain. My sweet little absurdity.
My Joey.
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