It’s a fearful thing to love what death can touch.
~ Anonymous
On a mild, balmy day in April of ’04, we answered an ad in the Trading Post and found ourselves in the backyard of a breeder’s house in Hampton.
And there it was, a litter of adorable furry littles in their grassy playpen. As we stood there uhm-ing and ahh-ing from a distance, an inquisitive baby bunny with the biggest, beautiful doe eyes came hopping towards us. She had a dark brown coat of shiny fur and a soft white marshmallow coat on her belly and a pom-pom tail.
She was beautiful, and we were in love.
Ecstatically, we took her home.
She was so little then that she could even fit into the palm of my hand.
I wanted to named her Snuggles, but that name could not roll out of my tongue, so we named her Snuffles instead.
She was quite the roadrunner, zipping back and forth in our apartment, hiding under the couch and maneuvering tight corners. Other bunnies are content with boring ol’ carrots, my baby, taking after me, had the ultimate sweet tooth and preferred munching on grapes instead.
Snuffles was with us through it all, roadtrips, moving from one cramped apartment into another, house guests, vacations, birthdays and anniversaries. She watched television with us every evening after work, and will follow us around in the kitchen when we rustle up dinners.
She was not only a part of the household, she was a part of our lives. She was our baby.
Leo built her an apartment from our old IKEA tabletop and later on when she outgrew it, we bought her a castle and lugged it all the way back from KL. Late night runs to the supermarket for food and litter, monthly vet visits and daily pats.
Oh, how we loved her.
22.02.2004 – 14.06.2010
Snuffles left us in the winter of ’10, 14th June, at the ripe old bunny age of 6 years and 4 months. We were away during the time of her passing, the babysitter did not want to dampen our trip, so we were not aware of it until a day before we were due to be back home.
There were no kisses, no final goodbyes; only shattering of hearts.
Life, is scarily fleeting, isn’t it?
The house is quiet now, there will be no thumping of furry feet, no rustling of dry hay, and no nibbling of toes for attention; for she now lies peacefully in a beautiful rose garden, under a warm bed of scarlet autumn leaves, in the good company of her other furry little friends.
No more seizures, no more teeth filing and no more vet visits.
Diphilus once said, “Time is a physician that heals every grief”.
He never did mention how much time. I say you never really get over the grief, there’s only getting used to.
Rest well and hop on away, my little one.
Love and miss you till it hurts.
Now, always and forever.
