I often wondered what your last day with me would be like. Would I know that it was almost over? Would we spend the day snuggling and playing? Or would it come unexpected, on a normal day, or even a day when I was annoyed with you for chewing something of mine up yet again? Would I have time to say goodbye? Or would I have to make the most difficult decision of my life? Most importantly, would you know and would you be in pain?
As it turned out, it was so much more unexpected and yet so much better. I did get to say goodbye, and we did have two wonderful last days together. We spent time snuggling and playing, you got extra treats and attention, and none of it had the cloud of death hanging over us. Then again, maybe you knew it was coming. You were always so much smarter than me.
But now I’m left here alone, and while I know each day will get easier, I can’t stop the tears that come with every small reminder. Your cage has been cleaned, your favorite toys packed away, and your treats and hay sent to the guinea pig next door. (I’m sorry about that last part- I know you didn’t care much for Maisy, but I couldn’t bear to throw away the yogurt chips and baked pretzels that you loved so much.)
Now it’s the little things that get me. When my mom asked me to come to the house tonight so that I wouldn’t be alone, my first thought was, “I can’t- someone has to feed Eppy.” Then I sat on the edge of the couch and cried. When I left the apartment tonight, I did so with my usual refrain of “bye Eppy, be a good girl.” It stopped me cold in the doorway when I realized that you weren’t there to hear it anymore. I cried the whole way down the stairs. The dog rustled her wicker toy basket tonight and it sounded like you chewing on your hay basket. I looked over automatically, but you weren’t there. (And neither was the hay basket. That also went to Maisy. I’m not apologizing for this one though- you know how she felt about it.) No one now will come bounding around the corner of the couch to frolic with a toy. No one now will wait until I fall asleep on the couch to leap onto my chest. No one now will be there for a snuggle when the day has been hard and people have been too much, and that is the part that hurts the most.
But maybe I’m not completely alone. You did tolerate the hundreds of photos that I took of you over the years, especially the ones when I made you wear a scarf. (Don’t think I missed the thinly-veiled hatred in your eyes at those times.) Those photos tell your life story better than I ever could, and they remind of who exactly you were.
Now as you move onto the rabbit heaven perfectly made for you- a place of endless grass and puzzle balls to break into- know that a very large piece of my heart goes with you. Rest well, my bunny girl. There will never be another like you.