Girl-cat is eating blueberries out of my bowl. Is that weird? Should I google it? Girl-cat is old and grumpy and eccentric. Seven years ago my cat lady friend rescued a mean-fur-and-bones-pregnant-cat-slut from a burger joint parking lot somewhere in Phoenix. And, of course, we took her in.
Mr. Scabs found an old hand crank snow cone machine at the goodwill which our daughter has turned into her childhood fortune this summer. This fortune turned into a bunny, that was carefully selected from the handful of discarded Easter bunnies found on Craigslist. Originally, the ad was $100 for the bunny and an enclosure, carrier, hay, chew sticks, food, combs, litter and a whole slew of other bunny care items. Heartbroken because she only had $66.42 to spend, I suggested haggling. It's Craigslist, right? And so, $66.42 later, Louie, the sweetest bun was part of our family!
I've never been face to whiskers with a bunny before. She was beautiful. We became fascinated with her little nose, her paws, her grooming, the fact that she was litter trained, her endless eating of hay and devouring of broccoli, her sweet little hops and excited hop kicks, her smart awareness. We all fell in love with Louie but our daughter fell especially hard.
This is my oldest child. The one who has seen and felt the havoc threatening her family but also has been privy to gentle repairing and forgiveness. Her heart is gold.
The morning before Louie died, my daughter said, "Mom, I love her so much!"
Some terrible circumstances lead to the loss of Louie. She'd been in our home for 3 days. It was a Tuesday night and when I realized what had happened I lost it! I screamed and cried and yelled and begged God to take us back in time, to change what my eyes were telling me was true. Mr. Scabs held Louie in his arms as she left us. I begged like I've never begged before (yes, more than or at least equal to d-day).
And, what do you do when you hand your daughter, who has been through so much in her little life, a small box?
There was nothing to do but grieve. To hold her as she shook and cried. To squeeze her tighter as the snivels and tears leaked through my shirt. To let my tears drop and soak into her hair. To keep myself from telling her that everything was going to be alright and that we can get a new bunny and from blaming anyone and anything. To leave her question unanswered when she whimpered, "why?", after all, it wasn't me she wasn't asking. To sit with her while she tried to walk through her pain.
Under the moonlight, Mr. Scabs dug a hole near the ash tree. We gave a tear-filled eulogy, dropped flowers, love notes and a carrot for Louie's passing to the other side. Death is never fair.
A few days ago we went to the mountains for a getaway. Louie was fresh on my daughters mind as she walked into the woods with her journal, pen and paints to face her hard things. And when she returned something in her had been nurtured. I don't know what she's learning from all these hard experiences and this isn't the way I imagined her life. When she was born, I imagined being able to protect her from things but now I see that all I can do is hold her hand.
I love her forever and am so proud of her.