My baby is gone


I have not written a post in a very long time. And this one is the most difficult I have ever done.

The only reason I have compelled myself to write it is because I am hoping for some type of cathartic release from the overwhelming heartache that I am experiencing.

I recently lost my little baby Bunny. No, she was not a rabbit, but the sweetest little pussycat in the World. Her name was originally Priscilla when we adopted her about ten years ago. That turned into Silla, the Silly, then Silly Bunny, and finally just Bunny.

When my Wife called me at work one day and told me she adopted a stray cat, I had a fit. We had recently lost our Chow Chow, and I did not believe I had the emotional capacity to take on another life. So I insisted that she return it immediately. That evening I realized I was just being a tough guy, and I knew how much my Wife and youngest Daughter wanted the cat, so I reluctantly agreed that they could go back and get it.

The moment she came home, she curled up in my lap, and I was forever her Daddy. Our bond happened instantly and only grew with each passing day. She was only about 4 lbs., but with a heart and personality that was bigger than the sky. We called her our emotional baby because she felt everything, and responded to our emotions right away. She would comfort each of us if we were sad or sick, and if I got angry about anything and raised my voice, she would scream and run to me. Telling me it was ok, and to “please calm down Dad”.

Whenever I would go in my office to work or play my guitar, she insisted on being with me. If I was on the computer, she would walk on my keyboard and then lay in my lap. She loved if I put my legs up on my desk, and she would stretch out in between my legs like a Princess. And when I played guitar, she insisted on climbing in my lap and then onto my shoulders. It made it impossible to play, but that’s where she wanted to sit. I never did figure out whether she loved hearing me play, or the sound irritated her and she wanted me to stop. But when I did stop, I had to walk out of my office with here on my back, with me bent over the whole time like the hunchback of Notre Dame. When I would try to walk her to the counter to let her down, she never wanted to get off. Being on Daddy was just the best for her (and me too).

There was an earlier time in her life that she would sometimes come to bed and sleep on top of me. She would stretch her paws out and touch my face. Sometimes over my mouth and sometimes her paws were on my eyelids. I knew that her claws could probably blind me, but I trusted her. She would never hurt her Daddy. She loved me just as deeply as I loved her.

Our little Bunny was only about 11 years old when she left us. I never could have imagined losing her so soon. In my mind I just knew she would live 20 or 25 years. Life without here didn’t seem possible.

But in her sweet, gentle and quiet way, she had cancer ravaging her and heart disease as well. She never gave us any warning signs, although now we look back with such deep regret that we should have noticed slight changes. Could it have saved her if we knew sooner? Or would the treatments that she would need have been horrible suffering for her. We will never know, but live with the pain and emptiness that her absence leaves us with.

My baby Bunny is deep in my heart, but her death leaves a hole that I feel will never be filled or healed.

She showed and taught me so many things over the years, and I carry those lessons with me. And I continue to see her everywhere I look. I keep hoping she will jump in my lap at night where I put a blanket on me so she would be warm and comfy.

Those days are gone, and life goes on. I know she is telling me that she is still with us, and to just live a happy life and to love each other to the fullest. She’s right, and that’s really all I can do.

I love you my baby girl.

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