I had posted a few weeks ago about BunBun having trouble hopping because of a lump in his shoulder/neck area. Our local vet was unable to remove it because it was more “attached” than it has seemed and the location was tricky, but he did biopsy it. We were so relieved when it came back as benign- a lipoma. But that was only the beginning of our problems. We took Bun to an exotics specialist, who told us that it was an infiltrative lipoma, so they would possibly need to remove Bun’s leg to excise the entire thing. As long as BunBun would be able to lead a happy, comfortable life afterward, I was fine with that. We set up a CT scan for the following Monday, June 9th. Up until then, Bun had been his usual adorable, greedy self- even though he was only using three legs, he would come speeding into the kitchen every time he thought he might get a treat. He even managed to chase and hump his wife Nelli on a daily basis, which was his second favorite activity ( number 1, of course, was eating!). I did notice, oddly, that he seemed to be breathing more quickly than usual, but he checked out normally at the vet so I figured it was just me being neurotic as usual.

However, in the days leading up to the CT scan, Bun began hiding more and eating less. He wasn’t bothering much with his hay, and when he ate, he turned his head toward the left, the side his lipoma was on. When I would go to pet him, he would hop away. I tried to tell myseof that he was simply mad at me for giving him medicine all the time- he was getting daily Metacam to decrease inflammation and pain from the lipoma incision site and Orabax for an ear infection that had recently recorded, causing him to lose his balance a lot. He had one episode of poopy butt, and I stopped his meds under the vets advice, and his poops returned to normal. Then on Sunday, the day before we were going to Boston for the CT scan, BunBun got this awful smelling, runny poop and stopped eating almost completely. We kept him home from the CT scan appt, and took him to our local vet instead, hoping we could stabilize him enough to take him in for his scan in the next few days, since the lipoma was growing quickly.

By Tuesday, it was apparent that he wasn’t getting better at home. I was afraid I’d lose him if I kept waiting for him to get better at home. I was syringe feeding him Critical Care and keeping him clean and warm, but he was getting weaker. At one point I put him down and he tried to run, but was so weak he kept falling- it breaks my heart thinking of that now. 

So we took him into Boston, leaving Nelli at home. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I didn’t see how the hospital could take care of Nelli while Bun was so sick. Once we got him to the animal hospital, they checked him in and decided that they would give him fluids and try to get his GI problem settled down overnight, then do the CT scan the next day. I was so sad leaving him- he had never been away overnight. I went back that night to visit him, and he looked better. They had him on medication for a bacterial imbalance in his gut and were giving him narcotic pain meds, and he was actually eating greens. I felt hopeful, but knew that everything depended on the CT scan the next day; at that point the plan was to see if they could operate on the lipoma. If not, we knew he couldn’t keep living with the discomfort.

The next day, I got a call from the vet on duty. As soon as I heard her voice, I knew it wasn’t good news. The lipoma wasn’t that invasive, but they has found two masses in BunBuns chest that looked like cancer. His adrenal glands were also enlarged, which explained his “unneutered” behavior in recent years. I agreed to go into Boston to be there with Bun when they put him to sleep. I brought his favorite greens from our herb garden, strawberry leaves, basil, dill and mint. I’m so glad I did- he was so excited about those greens, he just about jumped out of his bed to get them. That made me happy, since he obviously wasn’t suffering terribly just yet, but it also gave me a bit of doubt about putting him to sleep. I waited and spoke with the vet, and decided that the kindest thing was to let BunBun go. Further treatments were likely to just cause him suffering. Also, we always assumed that Bun was about the same as Nelli, which is 7, but he could have been much older. We just wanted to believe that he was young when we got him and so we did. But he could have been a very old bunny.

I can’t believe he isn’t with us anymore. Every time I come home, I expect to see him sitting in the kitchen with Nelli. When I wake up, I look for him on his blanket by the couch. He always came hopping along when we called his name, except the last week. I miss him so much. But I know it was the right thing to let him go- I always felt that since animals don’t understand that uncomfortable medical treatments are to help them, I would rather let them go too soon then have them live longer in pain and fear. They live for the moment- the possibility of feeling better tomorrow means nothing to them. 

So now we just have Nelli, who seems to be doing OK. Soon we will take her to meet some other bunnies and see if she would like to remarry. I would be content just to spoil Nell until her time to go join Bun at the Bridge, but I know she needs the chance to be as happy as possible again. 

Binky free, BunBun- you brought us so much happiness by hopping into our back yard all those years ago. I only wish the time didn’t go so fast.