Today would have been your fifth birthday.
There might have been banana for the occasion, certainly some carrots to run away with, and piles of mint - we had a monster bumper crop of it this year, enough to feed an army of bunnies, you'd've loved it. It was epic.
We kept your climbers and carriers and tube and most of your toys, because someday we'll have another bunny in our lives. But the litter and the food pellets and the big box of hay from the supply order we had just made, and the bottle of papaya tablets we had only recently opened, we donated that stuff to the foster bunnies at Indiana House Rabbit Society. You were a foster bunny once, before we came along for you.
In May, about a month after you left, we had a hailstorm. It makes us laugh to think how mad the noise would have made you, and how even more mad you would have been with the two days, later in the summer, when the new roof and siding got put on and the contractors were thumping all day long. We like to think you would have tried thumping back at them, to send a message of "No, YOU!"
I keep coming up with things to scrapbook about you, from all the pictures we took of you. Your ears asymmetrical like the hands of a clock, your career as a bunstruction worker, even your blog.
We still wiggle our noses like you taught us, and still bump noses as a greeting (and to avoid being zapped by static electricity).
The ashes are in a box on a short bookshelf downstairs, flanked on either side by bunny-shaped votive holders. Sometimes we clip a piece of mint from the front yard and leave it in front of the box, like flowers at a grave. There's a picture below.
We love you and miss you, baby girl.
Love,
Mama and Dad
