I have bad news to share. Be prepared; this is a long post.
On Sunday, October 24th, my dear Abbey passed away suddenly after a brief, two day illness. We don't know what happened. We did everything that we could. By the time that the cause was actually showing (an absess behind her eye) she was so weak and unstable, that the vet was not able to stabilize her. I lost her.
The vets and some friends of mine and I have concluded that Abbey was older than we thought. She must have been slowly losing weight (she was down 3lbs when I took her to the vet - and I hadn't noticed any change in her habits until that day). As bunnies age the small issues they have can overwhelm their systems. This is what I now believe happened. But it doesn't make her loss any easier. I miss her every moment and feel her absense when I even just walk past the rabbit room. She is gone. I would like to share her story, as a catharsis, and to help myself remember that although she is no longer with me, memories of our time together always will be.
Abbey was my first "foster" with Rabbit Rescue Inc. She came to my home in July (I think) of 2007. She came to us from a lady who had rescued her but couldn't keep her. Abbey had been living in an outdoor hutch year round. She was attacked by a dog, and when the lady rescued her she had a large absess on her back. She was not in good shape. She took her in and the absess was removed, and Abbey healed. She was a fighter, and she pulled through. Her fur in the back area always grew in differently, like soft baby bunny fur, after that. I could always see where her "scar" was. It was about 8 inches long and 2 inches wide.
Abbey lived in my kitchen and from the start I enjoyed sitting beside her and having her there, giving my fingers kisses and leaning against me for pets. She was quite demanding and greedy, and would relentlessly head butt anyone around her for attention. She loved to stretch her back legs out behind her, and stretch her head down and foward, and look as long as she could.
One day the adoptions manager emailed me with a potential adopter. She asked, "Is Abbey available?" I clicked reply and began to write that she was, then burst into tears at the thought of her leaving. I deleted the text, and wrote back, "NO, she's mine!" and sent in the papers. I just couldn't imagine my life without her.
Abbey was so much to me. She made me laugh when I needed it most. After Cappuccino died in December 2007, it was Abbey who I snuggled into, breathing in the bunny smell. When Abe died, who I had intended to bond to Abbey, I came home devestated to find Abbey waiting at the door, and when she saw me she started to binky around like a mad-woman. Abbey did these mini-binkies. She would toss her head, and binky with her back legs only, and turn around in a 180. It made me laugh, even though I was so upset. It was like she was telling me that Abe was okay, he was at peace, and that things would be okay again.
She was my companion on sleepless nights, when I sat in the bunny room and absorbed the calmness, she would come and lean against my leg and fall asleep, silently comforting me. She was my little clown, with her little binkies, and her love of bananas! She was very ladylike, unless there was banana involved. I think she could fit more in her mouth than a person, just through sheer determination. She bullied Fez and Norbert, and made them groom her from head to toe, she picked the best pellets from each food dish and if the boys were in the way of anything she wanted, she climbed on their heads. She greeted each new person by running over and periscoping up for an ear rub and never showed fear. She was so very special to me, and I feel her absence in every way.
I am coping well, the boys are doing fine and Jack is business as usual. The boys are snuggling a lot and treating me pretty normally. Norbert has been made to endure more pets than normal, and he seems to slowly be getting slightly more comfortable with that. Fez refuses to submit and continues to toss his head and pounce away. I am remembering to cherish each one for their individuality. They are all my favourites, truly, in their own special ways. Abbey's way was her silent, mighty, courageous spirit. I will never forget the lessons she taught me.
Abbey lived in my kitchen and from the start I enjoyed sitting beside her and having her there, giving my fingers kisses and leaning against me for pets. She was quite demanding and greedy, and would relentlessly head butt anyone around her for attention. She loved to stretch her back legs out behind her, and stretch her head down and foward, and look as long as she could.
One day the adoptions manager emailed me with a potential adopter. She asked, "Is Abbey available?" I clicked reply and began to write that she was, then burst into tears at the thought of her leaving. I deleted the text, and wrote back, "NO, she's mine!" and sent in the papers. I just couldn't imagine my life without her.
Abbey was so much to me. She made me laugh when I needed it most. After Cappuccino died in December 2007, it was Abbey who I snuggled into, breathing in the bunny smell. When Abe died, who I had intended to bond to Abbey, I came home devestated to find Abbey waiting at the door, and when she saw me she started to binky around like a mad-woman. Abbey did these mini-binkies. She would toss her head, and binky with her back legs only, and turn around in a 180. It made me laugh, even though I was so upset. It was like she was telling me that Abe was okay, he was at peace, and that things would be okay again.
She was my companion on sleepless nights, when I sat in the bunny room and absorbed the calmness, she would come and lean against my leg and fall asleep, silently comforting me. She was my little clown, with her little binkies, and her love of bananas! She was very ladylike, unless there was banana involved. I think she could fit more in her mouth than a person, just through sheer determination. She bullied Fez and Norbert, and made them groom her from head to toe, she picked the best pellets from each food dish and if the boys were in the way of anything she wanted, she climbed on their heads. She greeted each new person by running over and periscoping up for an ear rub and never showed fear. She was so very special to me, and I feel her absence in every way.
I am coping well, the boys are doing fine and Jack is business as usual. The boys are snuggling a lot and treating me pretty normally. Norbert has been made to endure more pets than normal, and he seems to slowly be getting slightly more comfortable with that. Fez refuses to submit and continues to toss his head and pounce away. I am remembering to cherish each one for their individuality. They are all my favourites, truly, in their own special ways. Abbey's way was her silent, mighty, courageous spirit. I will never forget the lessons she taught me.
Asiago, available for adoption from 
