April 17th, 2008
Today, at about 3:10pm, I put my loving and faithful companion to rest in the back yard. He was only 5 years old. His life shortened by a bacterial infection in his jaw. When I talked to his vet earlier this afternoon, I was given two options: have almost every one of his teeth pulled, or end his current and future suffering. As painful as it is to know I will never see those big, bright eyes looking up at me again, I would not have been able to bear seeing him struggling to eat every day, his jaw most likely causing him endless pain. However, I don't want to talk about this part any more. Instead, I want to talk about what made him so special to me. To remember the better times.
I adopted Koji when he was about 1 year old from the House Rabbit Society. At the time, He went by the name Fred. Obviously, I didn't care for his original name too much. He adapted to his new name very quickly, however. Within the course of two weeks he would acknowledge us when he called him, and many times he would even come running over to see what we wanted. It was as if this place was meant to be his home from the start. His first day here, he explored the room we would share for the next four years. Within moments he seemed to have a spot of the room designated as his own, and he proceeded to settle in. Later that night he would run down the hall and around the living room, binking numerous times. My mother was surprised, worried he might have been having a seizure. I had to take a moment to put her mind at rest.
Over the few years we had him, Koji's personality developed from a rambunctious, almost rebellious bunny into a sweet, lovable rabbit. He loved to play. I would pretend to be trying to get him, and he would let out with a playful grunt and proceed to run, jump and bink. But over time he realized he much preferred to cuddle with one of us than play. After a while, any attempt to play would result in him shoving his head under the neareast hand. It really was impossible to resist just sitting or laying down with him and petting him. And he would always let out with a contented sigh, his eyes half closed.
He always hated to see me leave for work in the morning, and would stop eating breakfast to sit by my feet and say goodbye. I would always pet him for a moment, tell him I'd see him later and to be a good bunny. Then when I came home from work later that day, he would come running out as fast as he could to greet me. And every night I would give him a heaping bowl of food before I said goodnight and went to sleep. He spent much of his time either relaxing, or following any one of us around the house as if he were a shadow.
This house will feel so much emptier without our bright-eyed, happy bunny following us around. His life was too short, but we did everything we could to make it as good as possible. I don't believe Koji would complain. I doubt I could ever truly express just how special he was to us through this page, but I feel he deserves a memorial of some sort. Though I wasn't ready to, I've already said my final goodnight to him. And even though I'm not ready to, this is my final goodbye to him.
