The kids got me up this morning around 7:30. Buster was at the foot of the bed (on the bed,) Milly was sitting on me, and Sugar was sitting beside my face. Ok. Time to get up. The kids are hungry. (This is not like Bonnie, our late dog. Bonnie would wake me up around 7 or 7:30, and her job being done, would go back to sleep.) No, when these kids get me up, it is because they are hungry.
So I filled their bowl with pellets and Heizen and Sugar eat. Sheila? Where's Sheila? Hmmmm. I made coffee and looked for Sheila. Front of house. Back of house. No Sheila. I take my first sip of coffee, still calling for Sheila. She is not one to miss her food. Sheila appeared and came to me. Yay! There you are -- uh-oh. She was obviously sick, the little bit of hopping wore her out. I picked her up and she whimpered. Her eyes had that far away look. WTF? I held her and loved her. Sweetie and I were there when she died - maybe fifteen minutes after I found her. Sheila was just over a year old and had lived all of her life inside with us. A healthy and happy bunny, with 6 healthy siblings in the barn.
What I got from the Internets is that sometimes bunnies just die. Jaw problems. Stomach problems. Dain Bramage.
Fuzzarelly died, too. April 9, just before Greencastle. Four and a half years old. Her lungs gave out.
That was a sad, sad day, too.
2 comments:
I'm so sorry about your loss. It doesn't seem to matter how many there are, each is special and each is missed, and remembered fondly. The survivors always get extra hugs, though. My thoughts are with you.
Nancy NeverSwept
Poor sweetie Sheila. So sorry, love. Smooches to you.
Post a Comment