My phone rang and I answered it. The vet agreed Bun definitely seemed
lethargic, her temperature was “down significantly” so they were trying to warm
her up and her stomach was “doughy” when she palpated it. I told the vet about her kind of grinding her
teeth at times and she said she saw it and tried to look in her mouth and was
able to tell her molars were a bit “off”.
Grinding of teeth is a sign of pain and some combination of what was
going on with Bun was causing her a lot of pain. At this point I had two main options, try
everything to get her back to normal [this included x-rays, ultrasounds of her
belly, force feedings and more] or put her down. Through my now streaming tears, I asked what
she would do if it were her rabbit, somehow knowing in the back of my head
already what the answer would be. I
asked if it was ok if I called my husband to talk to him before I made a
decision.
I called Jeremy crying and doing my best to explain to him
what was happening. We both knew what would
be best for Bun. Since Jake was already
asleep, we had to wake him up and called my mom to bring him over to watch
him. Once Jeremy dropped him off, he was
on his way up to Bothell himself.
I called the vet back and told her my decision. She asked if I wanted to say goodbye and I
couldn’t imagine not, so they let me in a side door that led directly to a room
where Bun was waiting for me. I took
some pictures with my cell phone as I knew this would be my last memories with
her and I told her how much I loved her and how sorry I was. While waiting for Jeremy, the vet brought in
various paperwork to fill out and sign, asking what I wanted to do with the
body, if I wanted an autopsy and a general estimate of costs. I remember my tears splashing onto the paper
as I struggled to write my name. Jeremy
finally arrived and they let him into the room with me.
The vet explained how the procedure would go. First she would inject her with a medication
to basically make her drowsy and pain free.
Once that set in and she didn’t flinch to a pinch test, she would turn
her over and inject the lethal medication directly into her heart. It wouldn’t be long and then she would be
gone. The vet asked if I wanted to be present during the procedure or if I’d
rather she do it in a different room.
Jeremy offered to stay in case I didn’t want to be there, but still
wanted someone with Bun. As hard as it
was, I wanted to stay with Bun. I wanted
every last second I could have with her.
I gave Bun more head pets and rubber my fingers through her
ears like she loved as the vet administered the first medication. She said she would come back in a few minutes
to see if it had taken effect. Bun’s
nose twitches started slowing. The vet
came in and pinched Bun’s foot to see if she’d react; she didn’t. She carefully unwrapped Bun from the towel that
was surrounding her and placed her on her side.
She felt around her chest to see where her ribs were. Once she found the spot, she pushed the
needle into her heart and gave her the final dose of medication. She took the needle out and brought out her stethoscope
to listen to her heart. After a minute
or so, she told me that she was gone.
The vet left the room to give us a few minutes with Bun.
My sweet girl was gone.
My one connection to my grandma was gone. I felt total regret for how her life
was. As I sobbed into Jeremy, he
reminded me that most people would have given up on her within the first year
of her life. I was able to get 6 quality
years of love with her. I knew it was
true, but I had a rock in my throat and my mind was barely able to concentrate
on breathing. As Jeremy drove me home, I
sent an email to my work letting them know what happened and that I needed at
least 1 day off. We got home sometime
around 5:30 and went to bed. I don’t
remember how long I slept, but when I woke up, my eyes were almost swollen
shut. I started crying again. I was angry.
This was the first day of working from home and I was supposed to be
spending it with Bun. I struggled with
how to tell people because non pet owners are easy to say “it’s just a rabbit”
and not have emotion tied to it. She was
more than that to me, she was my friend and my comfort. I stopped crying long enough to go back up to
Bothell with Jeremy to pick up my car.
A few days later, I got an email from the vet with Bun’s
post mortem results. I both wanted to
read it, but also wanted to ignore it and be in denial. This is what the vet found “…several
indicators of chronic disease in her liver as well as in her great vessels
(particularly her aorta). She also had a torsion or twisting of part of
her cecum, which would have likely required surgery to try to fix.” Looking back, to just get her
corrective surgery would have been hard on her, but that coupled with the liver
disease and issues in her heart, she might not have survived the operation. This was as comforting of news as I could
have hoped for, but it still didn’t bring my baby girl back. It took me over a month to clean her cage and
even to this day, the food is still in her dish where she left it in
March. I still have food, hay and litter
left of hers and I both want to donate it, but don’t want to get rid of my last
piece of Bun. I’m not sure if I’m ready
for a new bunny or not either. All I
know is that I miss her. I miss smelling
her and how she smelled like a cumulus cloud.
I missed petting that little patch of fur on the back of her neck that
was somehow softer than silk. I missed
rubbing my fingers over her head and through her ears and hearing her teeth
chatter as she loved being pet. 6 years
didn’t feel like enough time.
 |
| My last selfie with Bun at 2:43 am |
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