The low light caught the velvet fur of Boomer’s ear while he dreamed bunny dreams late this afternoon. His sleepy eyes smiled at my hand against his nose… and he nudged me… a persuasion to again run my happy hand through his dark coat.
I don’t pick out sweet rabbits; they don’t come here silly, jumping figure-eights at my feet. They’re dumped, neglected, frightened. Or worse, like Boomer and some of the others here, sent to slaughter. I pass by that slaughterhouse on my way to work most days and wonder how many others come and meet their death in that place without ever knowing a gentle hand. I look away of course; I don’t have the courage to see what actually goes on there or to do the really hard work of going in and choosing which rabbits to rescue. But I’m glad to be able to support a local rescue that does.
Boomer is a survivor! A Flemish Giant, bred for show but not perfect, so he was sent to slaughter and netted his breeder about $10. His sister and companion, Cricket, passed away last May. A new slaughterhouse Flemmie, Sunshine, found her way to me shortly thereafter and has slowly worked her magic on Boomer’s broken heart. The big news here is that finally (after 6 months!) the two are spending the night together.