When I got back that evening he was gone. I knew it the minute I walked in the house-it felt emptier. I let Josh know he’d gone, and he hurried home. We wrapped him up lovingly with some of his treats and toys, and some fruit, and an empty bottle of Cognac that we had used to toast his wonderful life. We smudged the house and lit a candle. We both took Monday off to bury him, and we drove out to my grandmother’s and put him to rest next to some of the world’s most-loved pups in her garden.
It’s hard to say goodbye, even knowing that he was hurting towards the end so it was better for him. The house feels emptier, and the urge to go say hi to him when I walk in the door or take him a treat as I’m walking out the door hurts all over again for a minute. It’s amazing how these little furry creatures make their ways into your heart and become part of the family.
I don’t know what’s on the other side, but it’s nice to think that wherever his little bunny soul is-he’s running and jumping because his legs are working right again. I also hope there are all the yogurt treats he could ever dream of. We’ll miss you Pitre!