Good bye, Bellatrix

Bellatrix – that’s what the family in the corner house named her when she befriended Bolt, their aging Westie. They also declared that Bellatrix was a girl – not an easy call with fluffy white rabbits – fed her an occasional carrot and even let her come indoors on the rare occasions Bellatrix seemed inclined to do so.

Neighborhood rumor had it, Bellatrix did not like living in a cage. As time went by, she grew increasingly restless and even violent, bullying the cage-mates until her then-owners just had enough and let her go. They put in a rabbit flap in the door, just in case, but Bellatrix preferred the great outdoors. A brave rabbit, and a resourceful one – she survived a very cold winter, an equally hot summer and managed to avoid suburban car swarms, ever-present hawks, an occasional fox and even the unconfirmed coyote. Apparently Bellatrix figured out that camping out in the Bolt’s yard would keep most predators away. Maybe she was street-smart. Perhaps she just got lucky.

Anyway, Bolt and Beatrix became friends. Not the high-five, let’s sniff each other and then you chase me around the yard kind, no. More often than not, when we walked by Bellatrix would be sitting under a bush quietly chewing on some grass, with Bolt doing his guard rounds along the picket fence. He never barked when Bellatrix was there – but his look was saying, “you are here, I can see you and all is well with the world.” If Bolt barked, chances were that Bellatrix was on her way, purposefully hopping across the road towards her favorite corner.

In different, gentler times, Bellatrix and Bolt would have become one of the neighborhood trademark stops for realtors: “There’s the pool, over there – tennis courts, and here we have this rabbit and her dog friend. Your kids are gonna love’em!” In different – or less indifferent – days the pair would be a gentle reminder that yes, no matter who we are, what we look like and where we come from, we can all be friends. They'd age together, perhaps learn to play together, and maybe even go together to the great yard in the sky where brave white rabbits and good-hearted white dogs frolic in the fluffy white clouds. Perhaps the grass is even greener there

Alas, the day and age being what they are, fairy tales and happy endings are few and far between. Can’t have an out of control rabbit roaming the streets, now can we, especially one with the history of violent behavior. Perhaps someone got worried over a flare-up of rabbit flu, or had a disturbing image of those long rodent incisors biting into a tiny child finger… Anyway, animal control was called, promptly arrived and hauled Bellatrix away. Yes, they took her to a shelter – but, honestly, what are the chances for a fully-grown street rabbit to make it out of there alive?

Bolt - perhaps it is good that you are going deaf and that your eyesight is getting worse and worse. You are running around the yard less and less, mostly sitting by the fence, occasionally barking at the people passing by, just to let them know you are still here and you are still on guard. Every now and then we see you going to the corner where Bellatrix used to sit, trying to squeeze through the low-hanging branches. No, Bolt, sniffing under that bush will not help. She is not coming back, but you will remember her always. And so will we.

Good-bye, Bellatrix.