Monday, April 4, 2011

Special Edition: Our Rabbit, Snoopy, Died…

Our Rabbit, Snoopy, Died…

Snoopy was a small, black and white, dwarf rabbit. He was old. My younger daughter got him for her birthday when she was 11 so he was 10 years old. He lived a long life, we expected him to be nearing its end, but we didn’t expect it today. He was fine this morning. He ate his baby carrots as usual. I always imagined he would die during the night, so I had already told my husband that he should cover him and make sure I didn’t see him when I came down to breakfast. I wanted to be told, but I never wanted to see anything.

So today, when I set up my ironing board beside his cage and started ironing the first pair of 6 jeans, I didn’t expect him to have a “seizure” or “convulsion” of some kind. I witnessed it, had a moment of shock, and then screamed as I jumped away for the ironing board and the cage. But, my kitchen is small and the opening to leaving the room was by the cage. I started screaming to my daughter to come check to see if he was dead. I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was lying motionless along side the length of the cage. I could not make myself take a closer look. I trusted my daughter, the science major who just dissected two rats last semester, would be able to deal with it. She couldn’t. She observes cautiously and tells me she thinks he is dead. I am still yelling to her to do something because I am trapped in the kitchen. I give her some baby carrots to put in his dish just in case. He doesn’t move. We decide she should get a sheet and cover the cage.

Once the cage is covered we regain our composure. I call my husband to tell him what happened and give him the number to the vet. While we are talking, my daughter screams…therefore I scream…I ask her what is it…she tells me the iron made a noise…I feel like killing her. I go back to my husband on the phone. He calls the vet and then informs me the vet wants $170 to dispose of the body and he will come home early and take care of it. I finish my ironing and then my daughter and I find a box for him to place Snoopy in. My daughter and I are still traumatized. We hug each other. Neither of us expected to witness his final moment, I think we are still in shock. We had no sign or warning that he was even ill.  We wait for my husband to get home.  He puts on some rubber gloves and I disappear.  I hear him ask, "Is he dead if his eyes are open?"  I run up the stairs as I hear my daughter answer yes.  He tells me he is leaving. 

Poor little Snoopy. He was always so quiet and sweet. RIP Snoopy.

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