Month: July 2020

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Roseybug has died.

Oh god, I have to write something here.  I’ll try to get through it, preferably without bursting into tears again.

This morning Rosey moved from her play space back into her cage, near her water.  She wasn’t very alert, and wasn’t always aware when I touched her.

She found a comfortable position braced against a corner of the cage, and spent most of the day dozing.  Around 2 though she was fully sprawled out.  She started seizing.  I hope she wasn’t conscious by this point.  I called Christina, and she came over and sat with Rosey.

I won’t lie, I couldn’t do it this time.  I had to walk away, and tears were streaming down my face.

It took about 30 minutes from first seizure until her last breath.  If there’s any mercy in the world at all, I pray she didn’t feel any of it.  It was horrifying though, her body struggling to last just one more moment.. and failing to.

It took some time for me to be able to speak without my voice breaking uncontrollably.  I finally managed to call the vet, and we took her in for cremation.  I couldn’t bear to leave her there untended for a single moment.

When we came back we spent time taking down her cage and removing her pen.  Nobody else will ever use those things now that she’s gone.  If we ever have another rabbit, they’ll get a new environment.

Now my space is uncomfortably empty.  The space she occupied … she’s been there since we moved here in 2014.  There’s never been a moment there wasn’t a rabbit in that space, and it breaks my heart that now the space stands vacant.

I’ve made it this far with just a few tears. I’m stopping while I can.

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My sweet Roseybug.

Roseybug is in her final days. She’s still drinking water, but she’s stopped eating. Even her favorite foods. She’s developed that razor back that comes with age or sickness, and she’s little more than skin and bones.
 
She spends most of her time sleeping. She’s barely aware of us, and sometimes doesn’t even wake up when we touch her. She’s still breathing normally, but really that’s about all she can do. There are no last minute cures or fixes, this is the end approaching.
 
I know it’ll be probably days at most until I look at her and find out she’s gone. Poor brave bunny, she’s outlasted almost everyone else. It’s heartbreaking to watch her just run out of moments. It’s painful to even write about.
 
I grieve not only for her eventual loss, but for the loss now of all of those things that made her such a great joy.  Her personality, the way she’d be interested in things.  How she’d spend hours decorating her space.
 
A dozen years is a long time, and it’s much longer than her breed lives on average.  I take no comfort in how she’s beaten the normal.  She’ll be gone soon.  That’s the part I can’t get past.
 
I hate this part.
 
I won’t lie.  I wept.  Today.  Now.  Again soon.