To Ben, With Love
Dave opened the door to his daughter’s bedroom, intending to ask why she was still up at such a late hour. He quietly entered when he saw Anna was slumped over her desk, sleeping. Gently lifting her slight form, Dave kissed her forehead and tenderly tucked her into bed.
Glancing back at her desk, he saw a tearstained paper. Wondering what had upset his precious ten-year-old, he threw it a sidelong glance. Ben. Who did she know named Ben?
Then the words caught him. Wrapped around his throat, choked him. Wetness sprang in his eyes.
He never liked you anyway. I guess he doesn’t like me either. I really miss you and our talks. I wish I could hold you and pet you again. When I grow up I’m going to get another rabbit and I promise to take good care of him. I’ll never ever let anyone hurt him or take him away. I love you Ben. I wish I could be with you.
Dave fell into the chair, burying his face in his hands. Guilt snared him, squeezed his insides so hard he couldn’t breathe. He’d made Anna give up her bunny, Ben, because he had chewed through computer cables. As a result, Dave had missed an important work deadline. Dave had gotten so angry at Anna’s little pet; he remembered how justified he felt in taking the bunny to the animal shelter.
He now thought back to the many times Anna had asked for help in making the house safe for her rabbit. Most of the time Ben—short for BenBunny—stayed in Anna’s room, but he’d gotten out that one day. Dave didn’t remember how, although he was sure Anna had tried to explain. He should have done something to protect the computer cables, but… well, since his promotion, he’d had little time for anything but work.
The bunny had been cute. Dave remembered that. Ben had been lively, and Anna used to laugh a lot more than she did these days.
Should he wake her? Tell her he was sorry? No, he’d go to the animal shelter first thing in the morning and get Ben.
Dave went to bed filled with resolve; he’d get Ben back.
He left the house early. His plan was to bring Ben back to the house so that Anna would have a wonderful surprise when she returned home from school. He couldn’t wait to see her beautiful smile. A self-satisfied feeling accompanied him to the shelter’s reception area.
At first the shelter manager had been unwilling to divulge the rabbit’s fate. But Dave had insisted that if the bunny had been adopted, he wanted to talk to the family, offer money, anything to get Ben back. Finally, after hearing Dave’s halting confession about his daughter’s letter, the shelter manager relented, ignored policy, and told Dave the rabbit had been euthanized.
“Ben’s dead?” Dave felt shock and disbelief. “He was a healthy rabbit!”
“Most of them are,” the shelter manager replied. “But take a good look at this place. It’s too small to house all the animals people bring to us.”
“How long did you keep him?” Dave felt compelled to hear all the details, as though he needed to know the full extent of his guilt.
The manager hesitated, unsure what to say to the obviously distraught man.
“Not long,” he finally said.
The manager had apologized and repeated the sad truth—too many rabbits and other animals were dropped off each week at the shelter, and not enough people came to adopt them. Even with foster homes, there were too many unwanted animals.
Dave sat in his car in front of the shelter. BenBunny was dead. Because of him.
The rest of the day had a hazy vagueness about it. The promotion Dave had worked so hard to get suddenly seemed meaningless. Other things he considered important were as nothing.
Who had he become? What kind of person was he? Why had he done it? Why, why, why? The questions pounded his head. He’d always thought of himself as a good father and provider. But this day all he could feel was failure, remorse, recrimination, sorrow.
When he found himself at home, Dave was unable to relate to his family. He had nothing to offer his wife, certainly nothing for Anna.
His head was throbbing. Feelings were overwhelming him—fear of losing his daughter’s respect and affection, guilt over the death of an innocent creature, the reality of his many shortcomings, an unnamable pain. Dave waited until the household was asleep, then put on his coat and walked into the darkness.
The dampness around his eyes surprised him. Over and over he could hear his daughter’s begging, her cries and sobs—the heartrending sounds that hadn’t gotten through his anger at the time haunted him now. Dave was pushed to an abyss…and finally, he could feel Anna’s anguish.
He ached for her. He ached for Ben. And when the iron mantle holding a distant memory shattered, Dave ached for himself. He remembered his boyhood beagle-friend, Snoopy, and felt the heartbreak so long buried within. Now his anguish—that previously unnamable pain—commingled with recognition of his daughter’s misery.
Dave had loved Snoopy with all his heart. He remembered the day his canine buddy had become ill, and he recalled coming home from school to find his favorite friend gone. All the pent up emotions, all that he’d thought he’d overcome—his anger, his sadness, his depression—it seemed he had dipped into a wellspring of hurt and sorrow.
Dave let himself dwell on his loss of Snoopy. Finally his thoughts transformed into those of good times. A kind of peace started to fill him. He lovingly remembered the two of them running, playing, and sleeping in the grass. Sitting under a tree doing homework, watching the clouds, dreaming unfathomable things.
From that night came a different man, one filled with purpose, determination, and an earnest desire to heal his little girl’s heart and make a difference in the lives of animals. By dawn, Dave took the first step and began searching the Internet for information about rabbits.
He took a vacation day and was at the shelter when it opened. He laid out his ideas to the manager and, when they were in agreement, began to put them into action. Dave assessed current animal quarters, surveyed shelter grounds, and solicited comments and suggestions from the manager, his assistant, and the volunteers. He took measurements and sketched a drawing for an indoor/outdoor rabbit area. Then Dave visited a contractor, also a friend, and was pleased when he offered to draw up the blueprint and submit it for a building permit.
Dave made good use of the time it took for the permit to be issued. He contacted contractors and builders for donations and services; he visited lumber yards and building suppliers. But he needed to give more of himself. Dave called friends who had evinced interest in his motorcycle and his father’s guns—and used the money to buy additional supplies.
Work on the shelter began; all his spare time went into the project. He cajoled others into helping—his brother, a neighbor, some friends. Soon a new home for rabbits—complete with indoor and outdoor areas—had been created.
All the while, he’d been talking to Anna. He had been honest about what had happened to Ben, told her how wrong he’d been and how sorry he was, and discussed what he was doing to help rabbits and his desire to help more animals. He even told her about Snoopy. She said she understood. But their relationship was seriously damaged; Dave wondered if it ever would be repaired.
He really wanted Anna to see the new rabbit space. One day Dave picked up his wife, Catherine, from her workplace and Anna from school and drove them to the shelter.
Anna refused to enter. In fact, she wouldn’t even get out of the car. But Dave had strategically parked near the building so that she couldn’t help seeing the inviting side-yard, completely surrounded by fencing and protected with a roof. It contained predator-proof rabbit enclosures. At first Anna feigned disinterest, but she was soon captivated by a pair of bunnies that frolicked in and out of a colorful house inside their pen. Curiosity coaxed her out of the car.
The shelter manager took over. “You must be Anna,” he said. “Follow me through the shelter, and I’ll show you the bunnies.”
They were inside before she could refuse. Anna trudged after him, seemingly indifferent about seeing the rabbits. Dave realized he was holding his breath. He and Catherine watched Anna’s footsteps quicken, and then she was inside the rabbit habitat.
The manager asked Anna if she wanted to pet some of the rabbits. Dave wasn’t surprised when she immediately pointed to the enclosure that held the bunny couple, one of whom looked just like Ben. The manager told Anna to sit inside a small play area, and then opened the rabbits’ pen so they could enter too.
The brown-and-white Dutch rabbit didn’t hesitate—he hopped to the play space and stopped in front of Anna. His mate, a lop-eared, mostly-white female patterned with broken and irregular brown spots, was somewhat hesitant.
Anna sat still and waited for the rabbits to come to her. The Dutch rabbit was soon at her side. Anna continued to be patient, waiting until the female bunny joined them. Only then did Anna slowly lift her hand, just enough to touch the male rabbit’s head. When he didn’t move she began petting him. He jumped into her lap.
Three adults silently watched. One couldn’t stop tears from forming, but this time they were tears of joy.
Anna began asking the shelter manager questions about the rabbits.
“What are their names?”
“We named the spotted bunny Robin because a robin helped save her.”
“How?”
“After Easter, someone took the rabbit to the museum grounds and turned her loose. The person who found her told me a robin was acting funny near a bush, and it turns out the bunny was hiding in it.”
“She’s lucky someone found her right away. Otherwise she would have died.”
“You’re right, Anna.” The shelter manager looked at the Dutch rabbit occupying Anna’s lap. “Lucky was taken from his home after being abused by children.”
“They hurt his leg, didn’t they?” Anna had noticed the rabbit’s limp.
“Yes, his right hind leg was badly broken and he’ll always have a limp. Lucky had some other medical problems too, but he’s healthy now. One of our volunteers knows a lot about rabbits, and she took care of him.”
By this time, both rabbits clambered over Anna’s legs. She petted them and talked to them in such a soft voice that the adults couldn’t hear.
“Would you like to adopt these two? They’re both altered and would be wonderful companions.”
“I don’t think I can have two bunnies.” Anna’s voice sounded small, sad.
Dave had to interject. “Mom and I think adopting two rabbits is a great idea. That way when you’re at school they can keep each other company.”
Anna was surprised, that was obvious. She looked at the shelter manager and nodded eagerly.
This was turning out better than Dave had hoped. He went to the car to retrieve the carrier he’d purchased. They completed the paperwork, paid the adoption fee, and took a rabbit information packet. Dave grabbed some volunteer paperwork, too. He had plans for spending time with his family, plans he knew they’d like.
At home Dave showed Anna the new rabbit condo he had built. They set it up in her bedroom and he attached ramps and a playpen.
“It’s just until you and I have the entire house bunny-proofed,” he told Anna. “After that, they can have the run of the house when we’re home.”
“I think the rabbits should be litter-trained first,” Catherine suggested.
“They will be,” Anna assured her parents.
Later that night, Dave sat on the floor just outside Anna’s door. At first, he was uncomfortable with the silence. Then he began noticing how Anna cared for the bunnies and how she seemed to anticipate their needs. He wondered how he’d missed that with Ben.
“Dad, I’ll show you how to hold him if you want.”
Anna referred to the Dutch male rabbit. The female lop remained in the condo—she needed more time to feel safe in her new home.
“I’d like that.”
“You have to promise to be very careful. Mom says I have to hold a bunny as carefully as my china doll, or I might hurt him. And you’ve never held a rabbit.”
“I promise I’ll be careful.”
Not wanting to startle the bunny, Dave leisurely slid inside the room, reassuring the rabbit with soft, soothing words.
Anna explained about not rushing and about letting the rabbit approach, then showed her father the correct procedure for picking up a rabbit. Her intensity of care was amazing to him—her gentleness, her silent communication with the rabbits—Dave hadn’t realized his daughter had that in her.
Dave sat still, just as she instructed. At first the bunny wasn’t sure about this new person. But all of a sudden dark brown eyes looked at him. The bunny hopped over, and Dave felt the barest touch of a nose against his hand—like the most delicate of brushstrokes. Then the rabbit became more assertive. He butted against Dave’s hand as though looking for a treat.
With unhurried movements, Dave began stroking the bunny’s head. Then gingerly, mindfully, Dave picked up the three-pound rabbit and brought him to his chest. The furry softness was surprising and wonderful.
The Dutch bunny snuggled his chin on Dave’s shoulder. It was then that Dave felt what he’d only read about on the Internet—the peaceful, gentle nature of a rabbit. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed into the rabbit’s presence. Slowly raising his hand, Dave lovingly stroked the small back.
It was a time of understanding, forgiveness, and moving on.
The silence was comforting now. He looked at Anna, the young child who had brought him back to love and compassion. A faint smile crossed his lips. She understood and smiled in reply.
“His name is BenBunny.”
This story is dedicated to the late D.W., who rekindled his deep love for animals before it was too late.
©2008 Marie Grosshuesch