mercoledì 27 giugno 2012

Gregorian, a wonderful friend who is no longer with us

This is a memorial site for my beloved rabbit Gregorian, who died yesterday of a bladder infection. Gregorian was with me for more than 8 years. I hope writing this could help myself and the occasional reader overcome the grief for the loss of a friend.

No pet could have been loved more, or could have given more love in return than my lady rabbit. She was a friend, a lover, and a constant source of inspiration. She was my first thought in the morning, and the last before going to sleep. She had the run of the house, never seeing the inside of a cage (barring short trips to the vet) since I took her from a pet shop that was shutting its doors in 2003. I had my whole house bunny-proofed for her, so there were no cables or furniture to chew (she still managed to dig a couple small holes in walls...)

Gregorian would wake me up early in the morning, leaping on my bed and putting her head under my hand demanding to be caressed or scratched behind the ears. If I faked sleep, she would start to run very fast on my body, often jumping on my chest to kiss my face and nib at my beard and hair.

I never left her alone for more than a couple of hours per day (I am a writer and I work at home) because she needed constant presence all the time and would go into depression easily when left alone, not eating for several hours.

She didn't like to be held or picked up, snorting and puffing if someone dared to take her in their arms. But she also loved to be scratched on the head... so she developed the uncanny ability to position herself exactly at arms plus fingers length from you, so you could scratch her if you really, really stretched your arm, but could not pick her up.

Her favorite food was bananas, and she knew well the word, and ran to the fridge from any place in the house if I only mentioned the word banana. I often did this as a "trained rabbit trick" much to the amusement of my visitors who saw her fluffy ears appear all of a sudden from behind a corner whenever the word "banana" was uttered.


She also loved raisins and the occasional apricot or cherry. Contrary to popular belief she didn't care much for carrots, although she loved carrot tops (the green leaves) when she was younger.

We always ate together (sometimes the same food, as I am a vegetarian and we have often shared veggies and fruits). She wouldn't eat if I was not home. She waited for me under the kitchen table and started to nib on her timothy hay or dandelion leaves as soon as I sat next to the table.

During the day as I worked on the PC (I am a game designer and writer by profession) she would relax on a pillow under my chair, occasionally drawing my attention with a bunny dance of a gentle tug at my feet. She just wanted me to lower my arm and pet her, and she would clickety-click her teeth in return.

Like most rabbits, she was afraid of everything but also insanely curious about everything. Any object left on the floor would be inspected within 30 seconds of its appearance.

At night, whenever I said "let's go to sleep" she would run to the bedroom and sit next to my bed, begging to be caressed. If I didn't give her the attention she deserved (and I gave her a lot), she jumped on the bed and demanded more. I would caress her until I fell asleep, then she would grunt, jump down from the bed and go to rest on her blanket.

Like most rabbits, she would express her happiness by clicking her teeth, a soft "purring" click-click sound that rabbit owners know well.

She was litter trained and very clean. Only in a few cases she left her poo or pee in the house, and it was generally in times when she was nervous due to hormonal imbalances, or sick.

She died of a horrible bladder infection, which lead her to hemorrhaging. She was given all the best cares by a rabbit-savvy vet, but it was too late. After three days, she showed complete recovery -- no more blood loss, great vitality, and she was eating and drinking water like crazy. She was probably deceiving us, as hurt or sick rabbits often do as a natural instinct, hiding the symptoms of disease for as long as they can to avoid showing weakness to predators.

She died in my arms, uttering the heart-rending rabbit death shriek. But before she died, she accepted my caresses and licked my hand one last time.

She now rests under a fig tree, where a bit of incense and prayer hopefully help her sweet soul find her way among angels, where she belongs.
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