Rest In Peace Mister Bunny

Mister Bunny

Nov 1995 - May 2006

It's amazing how a little creature that was mostly quiet and weighed a little over 2 pounds could leave such a void. But it's true. Despite the fact that he hardly made much noise (apart from a soft grunting noise that meant he was happy or excited, or when he threw his dishes around, indicating to us it was time for a refill of pellets), our home seems to have a eerie sense of stillness and quiet now that he's gone. Yes, even in the midst of a toddler yelling and screaming and laughing and throwing his toys around, there is that sense of quiet, of something missing.

From the cute way in which he used to sneak over and steal a tortilla chip from the bowl back in our apartment in Ottawa, to the way he used to hide on top of the books on the bookshelves or jump up and run along the back of the couch . . . from the way he sprawled out in the sun and moved across the kitchen floor throughout the day following the sunbeam, to the time I taught him how to climb stairs and he delighted in the new adventures he could have on different floors of the house . . . from the way he grunted and ran to greet us, to the phase he went through where he used to chase and attack my white socked feet. From all of these things and more, he was a cute yet intelligent animal, a delightful personality, and a big part of our lives and daily rituals.

He'd been sick for the past several weeks, and despite our force feeding him and trying to keep him comfortable and multiple trips to the vet (with the hope that he would bounce back yet again like he had so many times before), he died on the morning of May 1st. He lasted long enough for Francine to sit with him and pet him, speaking softly to him, telling him it was okay to close his eyes and rest, okay to let go.

Yes, I cried when Francine called me at work and told me that he died just a few hours after I left for work. And I cried later on when I got home from work and felt the huge absence this quiet little creature left behind. I'll cry again in the morning when I come downstairs and there's no little black ball of fuzz to run around my feet and chase me. No happy little critter to say good morning to and pet while I'm having my morning breakfast. And I'll cry again, just because it feels good to let it out.

Mister Bunny wasn't just a pet. He was a member of the family. A rodent, yes. But one of us just the same. He played with us, came to work with us, was featured in the opening of our home movies and even guest starred in the Darth Tater series.

Goodbye Mister Bunny. You stayed in our lives far far longer than we ever imaged when we first met you. And in that time you left behind quite a legacy, and left our lives much richer.

We'll miss you, little one. We love you.

- Mark, Francine & Alexander