I feel the soft wiggle of a nose pressed against my chin and the sigh of a rabbit wrangled. She smells good, like hay, and something else that I can't quite put my finger on. After a long day she warms my heart and soothes my soul. I sense her relaxing as well-and the wiggling nose slows down.
This is a new experience for us, we have always loved each other, but it was through our common bond of BunBun that we expressed it. He, leading the charge for the afternoon pat, me making sure every nose was rubbed and tummy full of pellets, she making sure senior bun was safe and warm.
But BunnyGirl and I have had a rough couple of months. First there was the debacle of trying to introduce another man into her life, then there was the loss of her best friend-a third friend came and went over the rainbow bridge-all of this happening so quickly we've been as Dorothy in the tornado.
There was never any doubt that we were friends, but the recent experiences have put us both into a bit of turmoil. BunnyGirl came into our lives as a friend for BunBun, so our relationship was built on the premise that she was meant as a friend for another rabbit. His passing left a big hole in both of our hearts. I thought to fill it with another friend, but it was just not meant to be-and so I have been forced to reflect and think about the relationship I have with BunnyGirl.
I confess that I didn't know how I felt. BunBun was my best friend, he went off (illegally) to college with me, and he was often my sole companion as I stayed up late to study or write papers. Our relationship was really strong, one of trust and love. We grew so close that he took to sitting on the couch with me while studying. I would gently rub his nose, he would tooth purr, keeping my heart (and hip) warm all the while.
When BunnyGirl came into my life it was because I thought BunBun needed a friend. I was not at home as much since I began to work full time and I hated leaving him behind. BunnyGirl gradually began to trust me as her friendship with BunBun grew- but we have never been as close as BunBun and I were.
His passing left this feeling of emptiness and I was left with BunnyGirl, who was not nearly as loving, and grieving in her own right as well. Adopting another bunny was meant to make both of us feel like things were 'back to normal.' And it did until he suddenly left our lives as well.
The night he left I came home and sobbed over BunnyGirl's cage. What was I, what were we, supposed to do now??? As I cried, I finally realized that she had ducked her chin towards my cheek-as though she was trying to comfort me the way she used to comfort BunBun. That only made me sob harder.
I realized that what I needed was BunnyGirl, and she needed me too. My husband moved her bunny home to the living room so we could be near each other as much as possible. Slowly, we are learning new habits and building a different kind of bunny bond.
When looking for a rabbit after the loss of another, it's easy to tell yourself not to look for a 'replacement.' Yet, we forget that we mustn't treat the friend left behind as a replacement either. Unique friendships are the joy of having multiple buns. Just because the friendship isn't the same doesn't mean it's any less vital or important. In fact, it could be more so.
We are learning to love in a new way. She grows more and more patient each time I pick her up, and I am learning to understand that her hiding under the coffee table is time she can enjoy in her 'space.' She may not be the lap rabbit that BunBun was, but her ears perk up when I sing crazy songs to her. She shows her love in a much quieter and gentler way and I'm learning to show my affection for her in ways that coincide. She is my diva rabbit......and I love her for it.
