Post mortem...

Well thank you so much for all your comments yesterday. It was quite unexpected and typically it did have to happen on a Tuesday. I appreciate your kindness and on his last day he made it to spotlight too, thank you for that. x

However, today is Wednesday and there's only so much tea and sympathy you can give and I can accept. Diggers was such a good pal, he had a happy life, was spoiled in every way possible for a bunny and he wouldn't want me to be sad - well this is what I'm telling myself because it's not like rabbits can speak he might have been thinking I bet that heartless bitch is already thinking about a new carpet!! - so I'm thinking I might finally get a new carpet since he completely obliterated my current floor covering! No more holes in the corners to invite the mice in and my beautiful sideboard can be free from the fence that surrounded it.

My fridge can also be free of celery... I mean who actually likes celery other than rabbits? It's vile stuff and it even picking it up and putting it in his veggie dish makes my fingers smell. Bleurgh! No more washing out his food dish after he'd pissed in it, no more picking up poo, no more fluffy white hairs clogging up my hoover, no more chewed sofa, no more chewed books, no more chewed anything, the rest of my friends actually manage not to snack on my furniture. I can go back to having a house that allows me to have lamps where I want them cause it doesn't matter if the wire is on show, I'm not likely to get blown up switching on the TV or electrocute myself when I light up my fairy lights. No more chewed bras or shoes, no more escape attempts cause life would be so much more interesting for him in my bedroom... hmmm... actually he may have had a point!

His kidneys failed. I'm not sure what causes it but rabbits are sensitive wee souls, the vet said something about a parasite but I'm not really very good when it comes to that sort of thing so I switched off a bit. We were sent to the animal hospital for an x-ray but I suspect they knew it was too late as they decided not to do one. They sent off some blood for tests to check his kidney function but it wasn't good news so there wasn't really a decision for me to make. The kindest thing was the only thing.

So I went through the agonising time at the vets, we had a snuffle cuddle for half an hour when I shoved my camera in his face one last time, I could almost see him rolling his eyes at me before the lovely lady shaved his ear and squirted the blue liquid into his vein and relieved his suffering. I watched him twitch for a while through my tears, I know I'm a softie but you'd need to have a heart made of bricks not to feel sad watching a life drain out in front of you. Then the vet asked if I'd like to take him with me. For a moment I was a little bit stunned... and had that 'what the fuck am I gonna do with him?' moment before I realised that I should probably bury him. It just hadn't crossed my mind so I picked up my phone to do the only thing in these situations, phone home of course, and there was a text from my Mum saying that I could take him home to be with Monty if I wanted to. That made me blub all the more and so I said that I'd take him with me. The vet put him back in his carry box, all floppy and when I picked him up to carry him out I said "god he's like a dead weight" and then laughed, you know one of those nervous laughs when you realise you've just made a totally inappropriate joke but it made me giggle as I dripped snot at the same time and the vet gave me that look of pity, you know the one.

There's nothing worse than walking out of a vet's surgery carrying a pet carrier, with a tear stained face, puffy eyes and there's an ear poking out the front of the box as people pass by on their way home from work. They see you and they know. One look tells them everything. Then they feel bad for you. You can see it in an instant as they rush on home, grateful that their pet is safe yet knowing one day that they'll be in the same boat.

Pets are fabulous companions and I loved Diggers dearly but I can't go through that again. No more pets for me. I donate to animal charities and I might give some of my time to the rescue centre but I cannot do it again. Happy to pet sit if anyone is at a loss when they go on holiday, a part-time pet would be ace! Whilst I sort of believe that dealing with the loss is more than made up for with the time we have with our pets, it doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye. It was horrendous with Monty as we'd had him such a long time and I think you get a different sort of love from a dog, they are very much a part of the family because they go everywhere with you. Man's best friend is right. So I went back to my flat, cleaned out his caged for the final time, packed up all of his stuff I'm pretty sure he's thinking good grief, I'm not even cold yet and she's clearing me out! and took it all back with him to my parent's house. My Dad dug him a plot in the garden beside Monty and I snuggled him into a box, wrapped up cosy and we said our goodbyes. I like that he's beside Monty, under the cherry blossom and there for me to visit him when I need advice from someone who doesn't talk back.

Alas there shall be no more cuddles, no more really cute moments when he's washing his face and no more foot thumping incidents when he was pissed off. But I have lots of nice memories and rather too many chewed reminders of a great three years with a very cute boy who grew to three feet long, weighed a ridiculous 7.9 kilos, who ran circles round me to show his love and who snuffled through cuddles when I lay on the floor beside him but he's no longer in pain and no longer suffering. Doing the right thing, whilst it is the right thing, sometimes doesn't feel so good.

But life goes on... onwards and upwards.