A Tiny Bundle Of Mostly Fur

by ComputerBob

June 20, 2008

It happened about 6:00 tonight. I had gone next door to feed my neighbors' dogs. Afterward, I let them out into the back yard to do their business. While I was writing a note to tell my neighbors how good everyone had been, I suddenly heard a lot of excited barking. I quickly looked out the kitchen window, expecting to see a dog fight.

Instead, I saw the dogs gathered around a tiny baby bunny that was on the back deck. I ran to the door and out onto the deck, to try to save it, but before I could get out there, one of the dogs had already picked it up, carried it about 30 feet away. dropped it onto the grass, and was standing stood over it, looking down, studying it.

I quickly ran over, shooed the dogs away, and picked up the little bunny. It was still breathing — very quickly — but it wasn't moving.

I carefully picked it up and gently stroked its chest and head as it lay on its back in the palm of my hand. It looked up at me and half-closed its eyes as though it liked it. I carefully examined it and didn't see any wounds. I continued to gently stroke it as I walked around the back yard, trying to think of what to do with it. Within a few minutes, I could see a 1-inch gash on its back and a puncture wound on its belly.

A minute later, I carried it next door into my fenced-in back yard and gently lay it down in the shady grass between two of the bushes.

Then I went back next door and let the dogs back in the house, before quickly returning home to check on the baby bunny.

He was still breathing, though much more calmly. He was about a foot from where I had left him, but he was laying on his side, instead of on his stomach like I had left him.

So I got a cardboard shoebox and put a towel in it. I gently lay him in the shoebox and continued to stroke him. After a few minutes, he seemed to perk up a little bit, but he still didn't move much.

I got a few black oil sunflower seeds from one of our bird feeders and placed them near his head. Then I added a little bit of the 7-grain granola that I eat every day. At the other end of the shoebox, I put the bottom that I had cut out of a plastic cup, with about a quarter inch of water in it.

I didn't want to leave him outside, at the mercy of birds and other animals, so I carried the shoebox into our attached garage. I put it inside one of our rectangular plastic recycling containers, so in case he hopped out of the shoebox, he wouldn't be loose in our garage. And since he was right outside our kitchen door, that made it easy for me to check on him.

Then I got the small tube of Animax (veterinary antibiotic cream) that we keep in case any of our pets gets cut or scratched, and carefully applied it to the little bunny's wounds.

I checked on him every five minutes, to see if he had moved or eaten. Each time, I gently stroked his fur, which seemed to comfort him.

And I imagined that he might get better, and maybe one of the neighborhood kids would want him for a pet. Or maybe I'd nurse him back to health and then set him free, but I'd still see him in my back yard, all grown up, with a scar on his back that I'd recognize. And he would sort of remember that I was the guy who had taken care of him when he was a tiny baby.

During my 5th or 6th check, he lifted his head to look at me. Then he stretched his whole body, arched his back, rolled onto his side and his arms and legs twitched a few times. I was sorry to see that, because I didn't want him to be in pain. I stroked his fur and gently placed him back onto his stomach. After a few seconds, he calmed down and seemed to be over the pain. I kept soothing him for a few minutes.

When I checked him again a few minutes later, he was still on his stomach, but his head was turned a little bit sideways, resting on a few of the sunflower seeds. I gently picked the seeds out from under his face, to make him more comfortable, and stroked his fur.

That's when I noticed that even though his eyes were open, and even though he was still warm, he wasn't breathing.

I picked him up and gently petted him for a few minutes, hoping that maybe he was still alive, but that he was breathing very shallowly because he had calmed down. But as I continued to stroke him, his body lost its warmth.

I buried him in our back yard, in the cardboard box, carefully wrapped in the towel that he had died on, with the black oil sunflower seeds and the granola and the little cup of water.

And I cried.

I didn't know him. He wasn't my pet. He was just a tiny little bundle of mostly fur who came into my life for about an hour before his short life ended.

It doesn't make any difference to the world that he died tonight. He was just one of millions of wild animals that die every day. One tiny, insignificant life among billions.

But it's almost 2:00 in the morning and I'm still awake because I can't stop thinking about him.