The Day That I Lost My Bunny Was the Saddest Day of My life

In March of last year, my girlfriend and I bought the sweetest little creature that has ever walked the earth. A bunny named Billy, but after only a couple of hours, we renamed him Snoeffie, which we thought suited him better.

I loved him the moment that I saw his fluffy little bunny body. But he passed away this month.

Every day seemed like a happy day with Snoeffie around. He was always there, hopping around through our living room and jumping on our couch, trying to chew the internet and power cables. He liked terrorizing our home.

Snoeffie was an energetic little bunny, never tired, always playful, and never angry with us. Every time we were going to the bathroom, he followed us and looked across the bathroom corner to check if we were there. I think he cared about us.

One thing you need to know about Snoeffie is that he loved oatmeal and spinach. That was his favorite food by distance. If we'd open up the fridge, he knew he was getting his beloved spinach.

Until one particular evening.

On the first of March, we came home after an evening walk, and we're about to feed Snoeffie his Spinach, and my girlfriend told me worried that he wouldn't eat. He wouldn't even get up and sniff his once so favorite meal.

At first, we didn't think something critical was going on, so we put him on the couch and gave him some oatmeal that he loved even more than spinach, but he still wouldn't eat if a bunny stops eating. Something is very wrong.

As we searched and found on the internet that it could be a problem with his stomach and that it could last an estimate of 2 hours until he could start eating again, we noticed he wasn't doing anything, once so active, now just lying on the couch without any energy.

We decided we should call the vet and did so, he told us we needed to check on his stomach for any deviations, which we couldn't find at first, but then we did notice that his belly was a little swollen, so we decided to call again, and the vet told us to come around and have him checked.

So that's what I did.

I went to the vet at around 10 PM, and when I arrived, the vet was very kind, and Snoeffie was very frightened by everything happening around him. We tried to calm him, and eventually, the vet found that he probably had something going on with his intestines and gave him some painkillers and medicine that would help his stomach.

Snoeffie was supposed to start eating within a few hours, and if he wouldn't, I would have to call again. So I brought Snoeffie home and hoped and prayed that he would start eating again.

But he didn't.

I stayed up all night and tried to feed him, but the only thing he did was drink water like a maniac. I don't know what was happening in that little stomach of his, but it wasn't good. It felt like I stayed up watching my dying child suffer and have pain.

At precisely 8 AM, when they opened, I called the vet again, and I told them what happened during the night, and they made an appointment to come around, and I went again. As I arrived there, the vet immediately told me they would admit him for the rest of the day to restart his stomach and make sure he was getting food. If there were any updates, they would call.

I went home without my sweet little Snoeffie. I called my girlfriend when I left, and I started crying in the middle of the street.

The poor thing, all alone there, probably in pain, and I couldn't keep myself together. I couldn't speak properly, and once I got home, I started crying again, and I think I have cried that whole noon. I had a bad feeling about the situation, and we knew that, probably, when they would call, it wasn't good.

And then they called.

The vet told us that Snoeffie's stomach was too big, it was eight times bigger than it should have been, and that's the reason he wouldn't eat. All of his organs were pushed to the side by his stomach. It was terrible to hear, and there were two options: Keep him alive with meds and painkillers, or we could put him down.

We knew that keeping him alive wouldn't guarantee us that he would survive. There was a more certain guarantee that he wouldn't, so while be devastated (obviously), we decided to do the toughest thing we've ever decide as a couple.

The only positive thing we could get out of that was that Snoeffie wouldn't have to suffer anymore, he probably did for a longer time, and he couldn't cope with the pain anymore.

My girlfriend wanted to be there with him when they put him down. I couldn't. I think she would have panicked, but she wanted to be there for him in his last minutes.

That afternoon he died. (May he be in a better place)

Something broke inside of me as well that day, and I never imaged how life would be without him, even though we only knew him for less than a year. It felt like he was just at another place and could return home any moment, but he wouldn't, and he never will.

The next day we buried him.

Snoeffie isn't with us anymore since the second of March, but I still get emotional about it while writing this, for example. I need to do my best not to cry.

When you lose someone, whether it's a human or a pet, you realize that nothing is permanent. On the contrary, everything is temporary and will go away one day.

I'm not religious or anything, but I do really and genuinely hope that Snoeffie is in some heaven watching down on us. I hope he knows that he has given us one of the most beautiful years of our life and that we have given him a wonderful life.

Requiescet in pace Snoeffie, sumus te require (Rest in peace, we miss you)