Remembering Dumpling

I made myself pick up the phone and call the vet's office, half-hoping no one would answer.

"Veterinary Hospital, this is Chris speaking." Darn. I don't want to do this.

"Yeah, Chris, I need to make an appointment..." I felt like I had just sealed the death warrant for my rabbit... my darling little bunny... my old pal. She had been sick for so long and nothing worked. I didn't want her to suffer any longer.

Dumpling snuggled her way into my heart nearly five years ago when she was a tiny baby of two weeks. It was love at first sight. There were (literally) hundreds of other new baby rabbits at the farm. A small brown puff -- the runt of a "mutt" litter -- caught my eye.

"Can I hold that one?" The tiny two-week-old cotton puff snuggled into the palm of my hand, licked my finger, and fell asleep.

---------------------------------------------------

Jer wrapped Dumpling in a towel and held her while I drove to the vet. Last time I tried to put her to sleep, my car broke down. I half-hoped it would break down again (but that would most likely cost more). I signed papers to have Dumpling euthanized before joining her and Jer in an examination room.

One of the vet's assistants came in. "Would you like a moment before I call Dr. Norwood in?" I shook my head. No sense in drawing this out. Dr. Norwood came in and explained the procedure. He gathered her in his arms and took her to the operating room. I didn't want to watch. Jer and I kissed her goodbye.

We sat in the waiting room. I didn't cry, just stared into space.

"Are you okay?" This seems to be a frequent question my little brother asks me. I said nothing, but gave him a look that said, What do you think? Of course not.

Dr. Norwood came out a few minutes later holding a box. He offered his condolences. I solemnly nodded my head in thanks. We got home and went to the backyard where Jer had begun a hole. He grabbed the shovel and began to finish the digging.

"You could just take her out of the box so you don't have to dig anymore," I offered, seeing how much trouble Jer had with the hard clay soil. He hesitantly agreed, but I immediately regretted my suggestion. My rabbit lay lifeless in a hole. I couldn't handle the sight.

"No! No! Nevermind..." I choked. "Please put her back in the box." I had promised myself that I wouldn't cry, but it was a combination of things from the past six months. My dead rabbit was just the icing on the cake.

A righteous man regards the life of his animal... (Proverbs 12:10a)