I apologize for the length of this post… and that it is not as elegant as it should be for the memory of my little Pete; there may be too much information shared or not enough; but I felt I needed to say something. There’s nothing and so much to say, but I was not able to share anything but tears; so now that they have run dry my head is light enough to talk about him between storms…
“How nice it is to meet someone so undeterred by things like reality.” – The Lorax
My Pete was Peter from the moment we met him.
We found him and his siblings frantically wandering our yard after landscaping had claimed their home two houses down. They were just opening their eyes and it was such a long journey for someone their size. We took them in but it wasn’t long before the five became 4, then 2, and then only Pete.
He was our April fool… Our miracle bunny. He had to be no more than 10 to 12 days old as they were just starting to open their little eyes… Much too young to be away from Mommy, and never really having the benefit of her cecals; but we did what we could and mixed milk and vitamins for him, kept him warm and safe, gave him belly rubs, showed him how to groom… and he repaid us in unrelenting trust and love.
He came at a time in my life where I needed an anchor. I felt like I was sinking; I was lost… I had been home from work because of then undiagnosed medical issues that had progressed to the point it wasn’t safe for me to continue my career. I was home with him and constantly afraid that I wasn’t getting enough food in him… or whether it was the proper food… or whether he would make it another day. I began to worry for him instead of me; and he became my rock.
After months of testing I was finally diagnosed with PCOS; poly-cystic ovaries. The pain and illness I had experienced for so long was due to multiple adhesions formed from free-floating blood in my abdomen from a previously burst cyst. Not only that, but because of the condition it would be more difficult for us to start a family… something we’ve wanted for some time. I was told that normal recovery time from the surgery would be as short as a week, but I took months… and Peter was with me. He kept me strong. He became my baby, and my hope.
Whenever I began to break he was there. He’d come do circles and nudge me to make sure that I was looking. He’d do binkies around me to make me laugh, then come see me for head rubs. He wasn’t much of a romancer, but when I cried he gave me kisses… and even though he was naughty by nature, he tried so hard to be a good boy when he knew I was sad.
We never had a rabbit before him. He was our first, and our learning curve. He taught us how he liked to play, and what he liked to eat. He taught us about how you could do everything you should to child proof or bunny proof, and still miss things you’d never had even thought of.
He never really believed he was a rabbit either… and in a way I think he was right. He didn’t have the instinct to know that a hawk or an owl was bad… he found gun shots on the TV fascinating… he loved to watch cartoon network and Disneys Fantasia… and he learned from his Momma-cat how to protect his people from any home invaders; from lady bugs to squirrels. He was our “kitten” that became so much more.
The first game we learned was “Boop!” We’d gently poke his nose or his little cotton tail, say boop, and he would do a binky and take off running… but not far. He’d pause and wait for you to follow. When he got older “boop” became tag, and he would run down the hall, circle around and come nudge my ankles until I reacted. Then he would playfully “run” a foot or two away and wait for me to boop him again. He played this game with Zoey, too… though playing it with Mommy was more fun because Zoey would only play a round or two.
For all of his spirit, it was easy to forget how frail he was; especially since he didn’t know it or care. He’d run full speed and crash through things like he was invincible… but he was small, even for a cottontail. He normally weighed about 1110-1120 grams. That’s less than 2.5lbs. A full grown cottontail in the wild can weigh between 3 and 5lbs. In the end, I think his spirit outgrew his little body.
He loved and he understood that he was loved. There is no question in my mind. The last few days his little system just wasn’t recovering… and he was running on spirit. He would fight his medicine and his feedings, but his physical strength was gone; and when he saw how upset I was he would cuddle me and nuzzle into my hands. He wanted and accepted head-rubs more often… and he ate because he knew that it made me feel better. That may seem strange, but I know it’s true. He only ate what was offered to him and readily available while he was being doted on… but if he saw me looking away he would carefully drop whatever food had been in his mouth. He knew his tummy wasn’t working anymore; but I gave him hours of belly rubs and offered him special treats, and he humored me to make me feel better. It was his way of showing that he still loved me; that he trusted me; and that even though he was leaving he knew he was loved.
It came on so quickly at the end that there wasn’t anything to do but hold him and weep. He made a fuss to get the towel out from between us and I held him to my heart as I gave him his medicine. He didn’t fight me then. He shoved his head beneath my chin and he nuzzled me and cuddled… but when he was finally set down and free he couldn’t stand; his little legs didn’t have the strength that they did just minutes before. I realized what was happening and held him until he was gone.
I held him for several hours after. After I thought I had run out of tears I cleaned his fur… because for everything he had been through he always made sure he was clean. I laid him out so that Zoey and Tilly could see him; but they knew before it had happened… for the first time in his life, Zoey had cautiously distanced herself from him that morning… and when Tilly charged forward for attention, as she often does, she stopped short by several feet. …They knew: Just like he did. I was the one in denial.
Zoey sniffed him before going back to lying on the bed, hanging her head and staring from a distance… Tilly came over to see him, too. She licked his ears and nudged his head with her nose before retreating to her corner…
I know that he’s not there anymore. I know that now he’s free of the restraints his little form had placed on him, and now he is free to roam and play… and finally to fly like he tried so many times to do with his great leaps. I dreamt of him last night; following me around my daily chores once again; once again my happy shadow… and this afternoon as I lay and slept I swear I felt his warm little form in my hand, curled against my chest once more.
There will never be another Peter. He was not a rabbit. He was not a bunny. He was not a cat. He simply was… And he is loved.
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