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They finished the surgery not so very long ago. What they found was a real mess, I hear, they ended up taking out a lot of bone and I think several teeth – I'm not quite sure how this could have worked, as rabbits don't have that many teeth to begin with, but I heard this all third-hand after all. She was slow to wake up and wasn't breathing very well, so they put her in intensive care and called my mom to tell her all that.
Then they called back again to say that she had died.
She was nine years old. She would have been ten in June. We got her when I was eleven.
She took over our house, slowly, until she had the run of it and everything in it was hers; or at least, everything she could reach to rub with her chin, and nothing else mattered. She became our center in ways that are difficult for me to describe or for you, likely, to imagine.
I haven't been around LJ, not much, anyway. I might not be.
Then they called back again to say that she had died.
She was nine years old. She would have been ten in June. We got her when I was eleven.
She took over our house, slowly, until she had the run of it and everything in it was hers; or at least, everything she could reach to rub with her chin, and nothing else mattered. She became our center in ways that are difficult for me to describe or for you, likely, to imagine.
I haven't been around LJ, not much, anyway. I might not be.
