It was a dream that seemed completely unattainable.
Ever since I was a little girl, I desperately wanted to catch a wild rabbit and make it my own. I wanted to play with it. Pet it. Be a friend.
I would chase them, but never catch one.
I gave up the hope, but never the dream.
On Monday, my mom called me and asked me to come over because she had a surprise.
A surprise, indeed!
She had rescued a little baby bunny from the razor-sharp fangs of a blood-thirsty hound. The wildlife center where she volunteered simply didn't have room for him. So, she was going to take care of him herself and release him in a week.
I couldn't believe it! A baby bunny! A wild rabbit!
He wasn't much fun at first. He didn't move much and barely ate. He didn't like being held. But as the days went on, he brightened up. He started eating (loved apples and hated cabbage). He loved to snuggle in my lap (his favorite was getting his ears rubbed). He was curious and would hop all over the couch, ears perking up at all the colorful sights around the room. He even licked my arm, which is the ultimate sign of affection from a rabbit. It means they've bonded with you to the point where they want to groom you.
It seemed he was finally ready for release, so we had planned to take him to a nearby park this afternoon. I was crushed we had to let him go, but I figured that perhaps it was for the best. After all, he would meet new friends and perhaps have a family of his own one day.
But he died this morning.
His internal injuries must have been worse than we thought. His eyes were open, which meant he probably had been awake until the end.
It breaks my heart. I can only hope that I provided him some happiness and comfort during his pain. I hope that he knew how much I loved him.