Bun Luv

I deeply adored a rabbit. His name was Wilson who had been rescued from an animal shelter by my neighbors. They built a 3’ x 8’ covered hutch in their backyard where Wilson lived alone but cavorted with local squirrels and wild rabbits. The neighbors were moving and asked if I wanted him. They assured me he was low maintenance—rabbit pellets, water, a clean and dry place to live, and a daily carrot. How hard could that be? We moved him in the hutch to my backyard.

All went well for several months until Wilson (aka Bun-Bun) acquired an eye infection. I found a vet who made a house call to diagnose him. I feared having to catch him in the hutch. The vet, however, captured him, checked him over, gave some antibiotics, and charged me an exorbitant fee for the visit. He got better for a few weeks and then the infection returned.

Another vet nearby specialized in dogs, cats, and rabbits. I caught and crated Wilson for the vet visit. Dr. Bussey was caring and stern. She informed me kindly that I had no business owning a rabbit since I knew nothing about them. Keeping a rabbit alone outside year around in a cage was not the best practice. She procured a 6’ x 6’ collapsible metal fence hutch for me to put in my living room. I had to exercise Wilson every day by letting him out to hop around the great room. She treated the infection and assured me that the new living conditions would be in Wilson’s best interest. In the house he had two cats as potential friends, but the cats cared less, and Wilson mostly ignored them. A couple times I tried to cuddle with him, but he wanted nothing to do with my overtures. Nevertheless, I became devoted to Bun-Bun.

His eyes did not improve. Dr. Bussey determined that he had plugged tear glands and needed an operation. I felt sorry for Wilson and also guilty about being a terrible rabbit mother. One of the eyes was fixed before he coded on the operating table and had to be revived. The $1500 surgery was only partially successful, but he didn’t have any eye problems again.

Several months later, however, Wilson began having seizures. Medication helped control but Dr. Bussey warned me that it was really hard to tell how old Wilson was and she did not know what might be causing the seizures.

The seizures became more frequent and eventually Wilson refused to go for his daily exercise and ate less and less.  He seemed to be uninterested no matter how many carrots and greens I used for bribery. It was time to let Bun-Bun go.

I held Wilson in a fluffy fleece towel while Dr. Bussey gave the first shot of sedative to calm him down. He snuggled up to me– the first time that had ever happened. His deep brown eyes connected with my blue eyes and then he closed them gently while mine filled with tears. Wilson took one last deep breath. I imagined him now in a peaceful field where he could see everything, run in the grass with other rabbits and not on a hardwood floor, and where carrots were abundant.

I doubt I will have another rabbit. I did the best I could as a rabbit mom, but I do not want that role again. Whenever I see a cottontail rabbit or a snowshoe hare in the wild, however, I remember Bun-Bun fondly.