My poor sweet Joey is gone. On December 23rd, I found him sleeping peacefully in his pen, gone from this world. He was 10 1/2 years old. My sweet bunny was the best bunny in the world. I have had him since he was 6 weeks old– he’s seen me through everything.

Joey lived an amazing life. He began as Chloe. When (s)he was 3 months old, she escaped into the woods (we discovered her ability to hop down a flight of stairs that day, which she had never done before!) and lived there for 6 days until she got hungry for human contact and hopped into a neighbor’s garage. When she was 4 months old, I thought I’d lose her again when I discovered a “tumor,” which turned out to be a testicle. After a little lesson in anatomy from the veterinarian, Chloe became Joey.

Joey used to ride in the car with me when I would drive home from college on the weekends and breaks, enduring the 3-4 hour rides with cool finesse. His theme song was “Cruising Together.” He was such a chill little guy.

Joey LOVED mangos and bananas. His butt would twitch when he ate them, he loved them so. He adored laying in the window sill and peering outside. He preferred being snuggled in your arms to hopping around– he was such a people-bunny. He didn’t like it when you wore jeans– he would nip your leg if you were wearing jeans. When I was in graduate school, I brought him into class as a “therapy bunny,” and he was a hit. I once fell asleep on the floor while petting him, and woke up to find him eating my hair. He gave me layers– the hairdresser thought I had tried to cut my hair myself. He used to love laying on the floor nose to nose—-we could sit there forever bonding, and when I tried to get up off the floor he would sprint after me as if to say, “hey I’m not done!”
Joey never suffered, as far as I know. While he seemed tired toward the end, and his fur had turned from a rich tan to a faded cream, he always came hopping over when I came down the stairs.

Even though he was 10 1/2 and I know it was just his time to go, I still have an insane amount of guilt about his death. I had a baby last year, and my husband is currently struggling with alcoholism. I have had so much on my plate, and I have not been able to dote on him for the last year. In fact, I am beating myself up because I had not cleaned his pen in a few weeks. He had become more or less incontinent in the last year in his old age, so there were definitely bunny turds lying around. I guess in his last burst of energy, he pushed everything aside to make a clear space where he stretched across and laid his head down and drifted into his final sleep. I have been letting the guilt eat me alive, but I am trying to come to terms with the knowledge that he and I shared an amazing bond, and he lived such a full, happy life, and the last year of being less attentive does not take away from that. He was well fed, and had a warm, dry place to sleep in his last year as he got more and more tired. I have to tell myself that he knew all that I have been going through, and he forgives me, and loves me. We brought each other joy, and I will carry that my whole life.

We laid sweet Joey to rest in my parents’ backyard on Christmas Eve, where he spent his first adventure 10 years ago after escaping into the woods. We always joked that he had a love affair during his time in the woods and fathered a few babies, so he is back with his wild family now. In his youth, Joey was the same color as the winter’s leaves on the ground (which was part of the reason it was so hard to find him then, he blended right in!). I will always think of Joey when I see these leaves. He will become the leaves, and will be eternally in my heart.

“You’re gonna fly away,
Glad you’re goin’ my way,
I love it when we’re cruisin’ together.”
July 27, 2005-December 23, 2015