Journal

Just. Totally. Horrible.

So last night I go out to feed and check on my rabbits. I used to have 10, but over the years they have dwinded, and I was left with two. Nutmeg is seven and the only child of two of my other long dead rabbits, who were so old when they had her, she was it for the litter. Willow was 9 years old, and I bought him as he was termed a 'problem rabbit' and severely reduced in the pet shop. I didn't want him to go to a bad home, so I took him back to my brood. From day one he has done everything in his power to escape, he was a nightmare to handle and he ate holes in my coat as I held him to trim his claws, but boy, he was a perfect, beutiful, big healthy bunny. Over recent years he had mellowed slightly, enjoying a belly rub without taking my hand off, and being held for a few mintutes before resorting to violence.
Just the day before yeasterday he was running around at the end of our big garden, trying to mate with Nutmeg (who would have none of it!) and eating well.
Then last night I went to see him, and he didn't come out to inspect his dinner, he was curled up in the bedroom area of his hutch, on a bed of clean hay, dead.
He really does seem to have died of natural causes, he was nine after all, and never went to the vets in his life. I don't feel too bad about it, but my seven year old daughter keeps crying, and kept wanting to stroke his body. Luckily he looked perfect, peaceful, and so not disturbing.
We dug a hole for him today, and had planned to just nip into the garen centre for flowers and things after she had been to a friend's house to play, but then our plans were sabotaged by the annoying little friend. She is six, and a real little madam. She wanted to come with us to pick our flowers and ornaments for his grave, so instead of my daughter carefully picking her memorials she had her friend moaning at us to hurry up. My daughter is home schooled and so it's important we keep the friend contact going, but this little girl is such a pain! Twice today she told ME off, just because I asked my child to put something down, or stop being bossy! She told me she was coming to the rabbit funeral and she didn't care what I said, and that I couldn't tell my daughter off as it showed I couldn't take a joke?!
I drew the line at their invasion of the funeral, so after a quick play on the swings outside the garden centre I firmly took my daughter home, listening as we walked away, to the screams of this little friend, whose mother had to restrain her from running across the road at us.

So we got home, and my daughter started to whinge at me just like her little friend had been, so I nipped that in the bud and aid if she started to act like her friend, she wouldn't be friends with her for much longer.
Then we had what tunred out to be a nice little funeral. We buried him under a 300 year old Beech tree in our garden, planted by monks from a nearby ruined abbey. We took some rocks from the wall and my daughter will paint one with his name, and we bought a little brass lantern which we put a candle in, along with some artificial flowers. She arrranged it all over the rocks, the lantern at the top, along with some plastic butterfiles she has picked, and the whole thing looks really sweet.
Rabbits aren't renouned for their personality, and I know I've been more upset about dogs in the past, but he was my incredibly naughty little boy for nine years, and I will miss him. My daughter cried so hard at his funeral, and when we first told her, that she couldn't breathe. She seems better now, and loved lighting the candle for him, along with all the other little ceremonies. Last night I got her to write him a letter, as she was worried he woudn't know how much she loved him, and we popped it inside the pillowcase he was buried in.

If it hadn't been for that annoying little child this day could have been quite beautiful, as funerals and death are my profession, I really wanted this one to be perfect, and I'm so glad I put my foot down and wouldn't let that child attend.

Good night my sweet little Willow, I'll always have the holes in my clothes and the scar on my hand to remember your wild little spirit by.