It Seemed Like a Small Thing
In Loving Memory of Big Boy
Big Boy
Susan held Big Boy on her lap as she stared at the vet.
“But it’s just a small limp. It didn’t start until today.” Susan’s shocked protest was full of pain.
The tears could no longer be held in check—they flooded her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, caught by the towel wrapped loosely around the sedated rabbit.
“Please don't let him suffer,” she whispered, then watched as the needle to end his life was inserted.
Moments later, Big Boy’s lifeless body lay in her arms.
It seemed like a nightmare—Big Boy just couldn't be dead. It had happened too fast. Barely two hours earlier, he had been running and jumping around in the grass. Susan had noticed a small limp, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Still, she had thought it best to have him examined by the vet.
But it was too late. An open wound on the underside of Big Boy’s body had attracted egg-laying flies, and the hatched maggots had eaten into his flesh. Fly strike.
A single thought looped through her numbed mind. Big Boy is dead. Big Boy is dead. Big Boy…
Her heart constricted. Never again would the large brown rabbit—rescued from a traumatic life in a school classroom—eagerly circle around her or stand on his hind legs, eyes gazing brightly into hers.
That light had faded as he died in her arms.
Susan went through the motions of finishing up at the vet clinic and driving home, burdened with guilt and sorrow. Her husband, Mike, took one look at her face and folded her into his arms.
She haltingly recounted the dreadful afternoon and then explained that they had to check the other two rabbits—Reecie and Frosty—for fly strike. Finding no sign of eggs, maggots, or infection on either bunny, both humans heaved a sigh of relief.
Frosty
But less than a day later, during one of the now twice-daily checks, Susan noticed a bare, irritated spot on Frosty’s white-furred body. Concerned about the loss of another beloved rabbit, she raced the small bunny to the animal hospital and watched as two larvae were removed.
Another twenty-four hours passed, during which time additional maggots hatched on Frosty. After clipping the fur and cleaning the area, Susan carefully removed the maggots and treated the bunny as the vet had instructed. But in spite of the antiseptic solution, an abscess formed.
It seemed so simple! What did I do wrong? Susan battled self-recrimination while Frosty endured surgery. When the upright-eared rabbit was retrieved later that day, she was wearing an Elizabethan collar to prevent gnawing on her stitches. Susan sympathized with the rabbit and vowed to provide the best care she could.
Newly committed to the battle, she turned part of the dining room into an infirmary. To reduce Frosty’s stress and to aid her in moving around and eating, Susan removed the collar. She then sat and watched, sometimes half-heartedly working on a puzzle, to make sure the impatient rabbit didn’t remove any stitches.
The next night Susan had to work late, returning home after 10:00 p.m. She opened the door…and was both pleased and relieved that she wasn’t alone in the fight to save the bunnies. There was Frosty, sitting at Mike's feet—the antibiotic administered, the rabbits fed, and the puzzle nearly completed.
But a few days later, the nightmarish events took another tortuous turn, reawakening her self-criticism.
Reecie
Reecie, the sweet lop originally pronounced healthy by the vet, was now suffering with fly strike. Susan immediately suspected the cause. Because the little rabbit had been despondent over the loss of Big Boy, Susan thought it might be helpful to return her to the familiar yard that she had shared with her best friend. After receiving assurances from the vet that cooler weather reduced the threat of fly strike, Reecie was allowed outdoors.
But she was just not herself. Worried about the melancholy rabbit, Susan began feeding Reecie’s favorite treats. That seemed to raise the lop's spirits, though the change to a richer and less fibrous diet resulted in unusually soft caecotrophs.
Her human caregiver helped Reecie to remain clean, feeling it was a small tradeoff for a happier rabbit. And so the treats continued. But it was hard to keep the silky beige fur completely clean and dry and, with horror, Susan realized that the soiled genital area had attracted the egg-laying flies.
Now, financial constraints sat side-by-side with the reality that the demure lop would die without medical intervention. The vet kindly agreed to a payment plan, and Reecie was successfully treated.
Although Susan deeply mourned Big Boy, she welcomed Reecie and Frosty into their new lives as treasured house rabbits. Since Reecie continued to grieve for her best friend, Susan spent extra time with her, brushing her soft fur or simply sitting quietly and holding her.
The tender-hearted bunny responded to Susan’s loving overtures, running to greet her when she returned from work and relaxing in her company. Reecie began racing in and out of boxes and playing with the guinea pigs, running loose through the upstairs when their humans were home. After particularly energetic intervals, the four-year-old rabbit would stretch out, legs extended behind her, looking calm and happy.
Six-month-old Frosty had no trouble adjusting to life inside the house. She made a game of jumping over the prone body of the family's Labrador retriever, or she’d instigate a chase with the cat. Frosty’s gregarious personality was especially evident as she eagerly greeted her humans upon their return home, licking them in welcome.
Susan tried not to let her sadness affect her too much as she mused over what she could have done differently. What had she overlooked that might have prevented fly strike in her beloved companions? Big Boy had never let her pick him up—that was too frightening due to the serious mistreatment he’d received at the school.Gaining his trust with handling hadn’t seemed of paramount importance when Big Boy arrived; what had seemed more critical—and more loving—was letting him grow into his natural personality. With a pang, she realized one of the little things that had ultimately contributed to his illness: If only I had worked to gain his trust, I would have been picking him up to check and groom him. She promised herself that would not happen again with another rabbit.
The subject of grooming segued into another little thing that might have helped avert the loss of Big Boy: I should have been grooming each of them with a fine-tooth comb. Since no one in her local rabbit group had experience with fly strike, they had no idea that a flea comb can help rid a rabbit’s fur of fly eggs. Wiser now, Susan regularly combs each of her bunnies, even though they don’t go outside as often anymore.
In the past, the new plant growth of spring and the warmth of the summer months had always seemed like perfect times to let the rabbits out into the yard for browsing and play. But the idyllic seasonal environment also created prime fly conditions, increasing the likelihood of fly strike. Knowing that fact has changed another routine: No longer will the rabbits be allowed outside during the most warm and humid times. Even though this means the threat of fly strike is greatly reduced, the bunnies are still checked daily.
During the cooler months, the rabbits enjoy being out in the large enclosure with their human parents. While the rambunctious rabbits race in-and-out of small, hand-built structures, Susan and Mike watch from comfortable chairs under the refreshing shade of pine and oak trees.
It’s especially rewarding to watch Reecie dash around. Now that she’s eating the appropriate rabbit diet again, she no longer has digestive upset and her energy level has increased—she’s more acrobatic now than ever before! But oh, what a close call the precious lop had. Susan remembers how food treats seemed like a harmless antidote to the rabbit’s grief and depression after Big Boy died—such a small thing, that seemingly minor departure from her usual food. But the starchier diet resulted in caecotroph accumulation, which attracted flies. As a result, Susan had a regret: I wish I had given her more attention and love, not treats. Now, both bunnies enjoy new games, toys, and lots of special time with their caregivers.
As Susan watches their rabbits scamper around the yard, her lips curve in a soft smile. The animals are happy, contented, and carefree. Her heart wishes Big Boy were here to share their play, but she thanks him silently for all the little things she has learned—those little things that are helping to keep his companions healthy, energetic, and safe.Warm thanks to Susan Lesesne for allowing me to write about her experience and her rabbits.
This story was first published in Issue 10, Spring/Summer 2010, of Bunny Mad ("The magazine for bunny mad people!"), a United Kingdom publication. Used with permission.