My sweet boy. My white rabbit. You came into our lives amidst the widespread panic of the pandemic.
And I followed you down.
D
O
W
N.
Down.
I don’t know how I lost you.
My husband and I didn’t speak the entire hour long drive to the animal hospital. They had told us to come say goodbye. We brought your baby blue bunny and tried to feed you. We kissed your forehead back and forth.
The next morning we got a call that you’d improved overnight. The boy was alright! But by midday that hope went black.
I loaded my baby into the car and we headed to Culver City. I don’t know if the city was playing a joke on me but I drove every surface street in Los Angeles on a Friday at 4:30pm. I didn’t cry. The baby slept.
Stop. Go. Fuck no.
When they brought you into the room, I heard myself utter “Oh Fuck.” You looked so weak.
On the cold linoleum my daughter and I sat and pet you. We sang you your special song. I made sure to scratch all of your favorite spots.
And then I put my forehead to yours and told you that if you needed to go, that it was ok.
That we loved you incredibly and fiercely.
I kissed you so many times.
Delicate Alabaster.
They kept asking if I wanted to pursue euthanasia.
“I don’t know what to do, my husband is on a flight.”
They left. I sobbed for my boy.
A machine began to siren and you began to tremble.
Then you left us.
We wrapped you in a blanket with your sweet bunny toy.
I kissed your velvety nose one last time as the nurse carried you away.
And these little piggies went wee wee wee all the way home.
Your absence is profound.
Your magic is so missed.
Rest in Peace sweet Timber.
“You are my sunshine, my only Bunshine,
You make me happy when skies are grey,
You’ll never know dear, how much we love you.
Please don’t take our Bunshine away.”
Goodnight Bunshine