Today was Bunny Clipping Day, as there are four bunnies on the waiting list. I did shear Zero, one of the three babies born this past June-ish. He was a handful and so I was looking forward to clipping Spot. Magnificent Spot.
She was next on the list. The clipping was a little late, but the weather has been cold, and so the clipping has been postponed.
Spot was one of Fuzzarelly's babies, born in February of 2004. She has always been special to me, being the only broken (read - spotted) angora I've ever had. She was good natured and always friendly.
So today, as I took Zero back to the barn after his haircut, I intended to bring Spot in for her slightly overdue clipping. But she was dead. Newly so. Damn diddy damn damn. And fuck.
God damn it!
Her body was warm and my tears were, too. Don't know what I could have done for her, yet I still felt so responsible. Still feel. God damn it.
What to do?
I pondered for a short while. Should I let her go? Take her to the family cemetery and be done? Or reclaim her pelt, which was long and special to me? Could I manage it?
I could, but it was hard. Then I took her remains to the resting place.
I am still rather distraught.
But as I pulled up into the driveway, I saw four little baby bunnies grazing in the front yard. Two black and two brown.