Eulogy to Woolie

Last Sunday, there was a death in the house. Though I'd consider that particular family member a distant one of mine (since I had nothing to do with the rabbits, as I was all along an advocate of giving them away), it was quite a miserable affair.

See, my house (it wouldn't be right to say 'I', since like I said, I don't really take care of them) had 7 rabbits. One oldie, Pride, a pure white one, an American Woolly called Woolie who underwent gestation and propagated to give 5 offspring: April, Fool, Al (who is skinny and furless - just like me - Ade made me say this), a deceased brother who died as a baby (that was another horrible sad story), and Oddball a.k.a. Baby (cos' it's all black while the others are brown like the mom). Pride's the daddy, who cheated on his deceased wife, Angel.

Now the serious part. Woolie hadn't been eating for days and practically couldn't move. She seemed to be paralysed and could only lie on one side. I guess it's mostly because she didn't eat, refused to open her mouth and therefore was completely weak. It was pretty painful to watch because she looked like she was all alone in the world, and absolutely terrified even of us who were trying to comfort her.

We brought her to the vet who found nothing wrong with her. Mind you, it was a young vet with a fancy clinic. So we started trying to feed her blended carrot juice and even then I had to squirt it into her jaw because she couldn't or wouldn't open her mouth while Ade cradled her like a baby. The worst part was that she looked like she was in torture, and was drooling the juice out. She coughed like she was choking so we gave up. When we put her back in the tub layed with newspaper, she looked like she was suffocating because she could only lie on her face.

By then, we kept asking Dad to just put her to sleep. The whole time, we stroked her, tried to baby her cos' she just looked so pitiful and terrified. One of her eyes also had a cataract and it was just awful when we realized that even when we put our finger near, she couldn't see. Imagine how scary that must've been, dying and being unable to see what's happening around you. No wonder she couldn't eat or respond to us.

She suddenly had these seizures and shivered madly. We were all crying by then, Ade like mad, watching her struggle. Finally, thankfully, she died in Ade's arms. She just suddenly relaxed and stopped moving. Thank God really, it was much easier seeing her go.

I guess this isn't really an eulogy since I didn't say nice things about Woolie. I just wanted to remember to pamper my pets a little more because they may go anytime. I don't think we have the space for more cemeteries in our back/frontyard.

The pampering goes for humans too.