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Friday, September 23, 2011

Wholeheartedly Hope to Hop

There I was, minding my own business. Feeling relatively happy with the layout of my life--dogs (beautiful, silly, and continuously joyful), fish (Edgar and Steve, goldfish, apparently content with their little watery worlds), husband (tall, dark, handsome, often smelly, always wonderful), family (aging, loving, close in both proximity and care for each other). When in walks my husband from a day spent helping my dad move dirt, and he looks at me rather cheekily and says, "I have something for you." He proceeds to show me a rather beat-up looking work glove. "Um... okay? Thank you?" I say in the most questioning tone I can muster. "It's not the glove--it's what's in the glove. And he pulls out what appears to be a wrinkled, nearly naked, sleeping mouse. I can only imagine the look of sheer horror on my face, as I WAS horrified at the thought of my generally delightful spouse bringing me home a wrinkly mouse in the hopes of pleasing me.

Of course, I should have guessed that Husband would know I wouldn't appreciate the world's ugliest mouse being brought into our home and being held in a shockingly loving manner. It wasn't a mouse at all. It's a bunny. From our research he's about 3-5 days old--eyes closed, ears still firmly planted back on his head. His warren was destroyed in the moving of dirt, and his sibling was crushed. Somehow this little creature survived. My dad told Husband to throw it away, as baby bunnies are the hardest wild animals to raise. Husband, being softhearted and knowing his wife was extremely softhearted when it comes to the cause of animals everywhere, couldn't do it. So he brought our new friend home, and I'm trying my best to raise him to five weeks. From the research I've been doing since the second he arrived here, I'm never going to save this bunny. There are approximately five million things that can, and probably will go wrong. He's going to die.

And yet... God help us both...

We've named him Peter.

We think he's a cottontail.

That's my hand, so those of you who know me will realize exactly how small that makes Peter Rabbit.

And, right now, I want nothing so much as I want to raise this bunny to be a healthy, happy cottontail--able to go back into the wild in five weeks time, knowing my very best wishes and a very lot of love will be hopping along with him for the rest of his natural life.

Please God, help me save this bunny.


  1. Oh, honey good luck. I do not have a very good track record in that department, a story which I will save for Peter Cottontail's fifth birthday.

    Also, I am glad Stuart and I have already visited because you know how allergic to rabbits I am - that plus the dogs means your lovely house is just my anaphylactic shock waiting to happen!!

    Good luck honey.

  2. Kate, I am praying you can keep Peter alive. I have tried in the past to do the same and had some luck. basically, do not handle him more than you need to but do keep something close by him that is warm and sounds like a heartbeat. (Not easy - I know.) We kept an opossum alive. All the brothers and sisters and the mom were killed by a car. Only one little guy survived. He stayed alive under our care and then we turned him over to a wildlife rescue center after about 4 - 5 weeks.