The Rabbit Died

Well, way back in the day (my day, if you must know!) that was how you broke the news to your hubby that you were having a baby. These days, though, the phrase “the rabbit died” doesn’t have a double meaning anymore, but it is one that invokes sadness, where it used to (usually, anyways) invoke joy.

You see, my sweet little granddaughter Emily’s pet rabbit died today, and the kid is just heartbroken over it. Emily’s a special little girl – very quiet and intense, and she adores animals. She practically has her own menagerie: two finches, a cat, a toy poodle and the erstwhile lop-eared rabbit.

When I found out about Filbert’s passing, I knew that both Emily and her mom (my own little girl) were going to be in need of some extra-special nurturing. I also knew that the best person for the job was yours truly. The fact is, I’ve been through this one before plenty of times. It’s no accident that Emily has such a strong affinity for pets, because her mom was just the same as a little girl. We had a house full of a long procession of many, many pets, all of whom were welcomed and loved by us all, and many of whom (except Mr. Marmalade, my 22-year old ginger cat who still prowls to this day) brought much joy to our lives but then moved on to the next plane of existence in their own natural times and ways.

Losing a pet is never easy for children, but I believe it helps them prepare for their own life’s journey by observing and taking part in all aspects of the circle of life. I know it helped my own children learn and grow as empathetic, caring human beings.

This is Emily’s first loss, and it’s a hard one. Filbert’s been in her life for as long as she can remember, and it’s pretty impossible for her to imagine life without him. I’m going over there to soothe my two little girls right now, and I’m bringing along a few things that I found helpful when my own kids were dealing with the loss of a beloved pet:

• The first thing on the list is a pair of two loving arms so I can wrap them up in big strong hugs the instant I walk in the door.
• The second item is a big box of tissues – there are going to be tears, and I plan to be prepared. Tears are good. Tears are natural. Tears are healing.
• The third thing I’m bringing is a beautifully framed 5X7 photo of Emily that I’ve had on my dresser for about four years now – when I looked at it this evening I realized that she’s hugging Filbert in that picture. To me, it’s always been a great shot of my granddaughter, but it’s one that she’s always loved of her rabbit. So she gets to have it now. It will help her talk about the great memories she has of Filbert – and that’s important to do.
• The final thing I have with me is a small card with this quote from Watership Down, spoken by the main character (a rabbit named Hazel) after his friend died:

My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.

I’ve been asked by Emily to delivery Filbert’s eulogy, and that’s what I plan to say. She’ll understand: we read Watership Down together last summer when she and her brother stayed with me while her parents were away.

At a time like this, there’s not much more you can do than to offer love, understanding, compassion and a chance to talk over fond memories. So that’s what I’m going to do for my girls.