So my Wednesday was utter shit, hbu?
As a disclaimer, this story has a good ending, but it is graphic at one point. I do put another warning right before that point, just so you have the choice to not read it. If you’re curious and want to know the real (happy) ending, read the rest. If you’re smart, stop at the warning.
Wednesday started off completely normal (other than getting 4 hours of sleep)(but that was my fault)(rip me). I went to school and tried to stay awake for my 5 hour class (that’s right, feel sorry for me, 5 HOURS FOR 1 CLASS), then I drove home. So far, so good, right?
I knew my cat was getting a bath later that day so I decided we should chill outside as a ‘somewhat last hurrah’, because once that bb is clean she isn’t allowed outside for awhile (she loves rolling in dirt, it’s her favorite pastime)(
also long walks on the beach, actually that would be terrible, big litterbox)(she’s single and not ready to mingle)(ever). My cat wasn’t really feeling like getting up (per usual) but once I got out there she was all in (we’re actually bff’s)(she actually loves me)(it’s actually a thing cats can do).
When I opened the door to go outside I heard a rustling in the leaves next to the door, but this was totally normal because my roof is prime real-estate for lizards (we rent it out to them for spring and summer mostly, it’s a whole thing)(but yah lizards love my house, so rustling is common as fuck). Completely ignoring the assumed-lizard, cat and I had a freaking blast. We chilled in the sun, she rolled around, we played with leaves, life was good. I always forget how much I love to just chill out in my backyard with my cat, it’s the most calming thing in the world to me. (also I was really feeling my outfit that day, so that’s always nice)
Life was good, and it would’ve stayed good if that assumed-lizard was just as assumed, but it wasn’t. It was better! My cat looked over at the leaves and right next to our bbq tank thing (idk what it’s called man, all I know is that if you shoot it in Left For Dead it blows up zombies) was a FREAKING BABY BUNNY. I flipped my shit. It’s little head was just peeping out from the tank it was hiding behind. SO. FREAKING. CUTE. (also I just realized it says propane on the tank in the picture, so yah it’s a propane tank)(Oh, literally nobody cares?)(cool)
LOOK AT IT!
Bunnies are also fairly common around my neighborhood, but I usually only see them at night when they chomp on the grass in my front yard (it’s awesome because every night when I come home late, they’re always there just chilling and chomping). But this little guy was out in the daylight! In my backyard! And it’s a baby!
At that time my cat was starting to get in her stealth-mode, so I grabbed her and put her inside (she was surprisingly okay with it, I guess she didn’t want to kill it, she was just curious). Then I came over to the cute little guy and got a close-up picture because damn my day had just gone from good to oh-my-god-there’s-a-baby-bunny-in-my-backyard good.
I was surprised he let me get so close to him, so I assumed he was in shock from my cat and I creeping on him (foreshadowing: another wrong assumption). When he wasn’t moving I thought ‘shit is he even alive’, but then I moved the tank a little and he took a few steps, definitely in shock.
New plan: he needs help to get away from my house and go to the bushes on the other side of my fence, back to his own home. So, I went inside, put on some gloves (rabies are real kids, don’t mess with rabies), and came back out. I looked where he was before but he wasn’t there anymore. I was somewhat relieved, thinking he had just gone home on his own. Damn baby bunny, you quick. But nah, he was still by the tank, but he pressed his whole body against it (and his whole body was the size of a rolled up sock, tiny). I smiled, thinking the little guy had become best friends with the tank. I started saying “It’s okay little guy”, as I started lifting the tank, “I’ll help you get home-”
Now guys, this next part is the graphic part I was referring to before. If you want to think that the bunny went home safely and click off this post, I don’t blame you, in fact I encourage it. Alternative ending: bunny was fine guys, he even said “thank you” as I picked him up and placed him on the other side of the fence. That night, his family came by the front yard and personally thanked me. I introduced my family to the baby bunny’s family, and we all became best friends. I even gave him the tank as a symbol of our friendship, like a best friend bracelet, then they went on their merry way.
Okay, you’ve been warned.
As I lifted the tank, I saw a deep gash in his lower side, and his bright red small intestines were popping out. I panicked. My instinctual reflex was to drop the tank immediately, but I had to override the urge in order to not crush him with the tank (which was surprisingly harder than expected). When I dragged the tank away from the bunny, to properly set it down, the tank made the most horrifying scream as it scraped the concrete, which was absolutely terrifying for both of us. Then, I ran inside in complete panic mode.
Honestly, I think I was hyperventilating. I texted my boyfriend and my mom saying something terrible just happened and I needed help. Then I looked up how to save a bunny from a severe cut. Every answer said the same thing: go to the fucking vet, you idiot. I didn’t know if I could even bring in a wild animal to my cat’s vet, or if they even knew how to take care of bunnies. The other advice online was to keep it warm and to not stress it out, because apparently bunnies can die from stress pretty easily. Outside was already pretty warm, and to combat the stress I drew all our curtains so the bunny could no longer see my cat and I through our sliding-glass door. And I waited. And I cried.
My cat was the best, though. She fought her curiosity, and tried to help me out by purring and rubbing against me. Bless her, because without her I might have had a full blown panic attack.
Then I did something I really shouldn’t have done; I looked back at the bunny. For once, I saw a bunny do something besides eating or hopping away. He pressed himself against the tank again and kept looking around to make sure he was safe. For some reason, that killed me. He was hopeless, I was hopeless, and I figured he would probably die (foreshadowing: another wrong assumption, chill the fuck out).
My mom texted me saying there was another family emergency happening (like I said, this day was utter shit), but she would be home soon to help me out. The hardest part was waiting. When she finally got home, she knew exactly what to do (how mom’s know every solution to every problem, I have no fucking clue), and we started to call animal control.
Of course, the animal control service was utter shit, because why would this day get any better if it had the chance to fuck with us more? The first animal control center said ‘sorry, you are not in our patrol area’ (after wasting our time with multiple automated stages, and finally getting an actual living person)(
‘living’ was debatable, but that’s just me throwing shade). Then we called the one they said to call and they were like ‘nope, you had it right the first time, bye’ (after several more robotic gates of passage). So we called AGAIN, and at this time I was angry crying. People fucking suck; that’s why I’m totally fine with being a nurse but not a vet (sick people, whatever; sick animals, rip me).
Finally we got it all right, and they said a dude would be coming by after he dropped off a stray dog at a vet about 20 minutes away from us (around this time, my boyfriend texted me back and was asking a bunch of questions)(bless him but his timing was all wrong aha). Once the officer got to us, we went straight to the bunny, and he seemed to think he was going to be completely fine. He said that after surgery, he should make a full recovery, and we had saved him. I mean I was still crying, but I happily took the good news. (he also asked if we wanted the tank still, mom said no, and he said ‘no way I was going to lowe’s after work to get one for my bbq’)(he also said he wasn’t really supposed to take stuff from people, but my mom was like ‘yah no, we don’t even have a bbq anymore lol’)(so I guess it was some kind of weird fate, if you believe in that stuff).
Then he scooped up the little guy, put him in a little box, got a towel to help him out and not toss around in the truck, and left.
I’ll be honest, for a second I thought I would keep the bunny and raise it as my own. I could take it to the vet, say it was my pet (even though it is CLEARLY a wild bunny), they could fix him up, and I would teach it the ways of the world or something. He’d be the most intelligent bunny to hop on this Earth. I’d be a bunny mentor.
But nah, that little fella is gone, and hopefully recovering from his surgery as I write this. So, I guess it is a happy ending. Still, the image of the bunny’s gash and innards popping out has been all my mind goes to when I’m blanking out. I had mac and cheese that night, and the noodles were about the size of his small intestines (Not to ruin mac and cheese for you or anything)(I mean I still ate it because I was hella hungry, but I was disgusted at the same time).
So yah, that’s been on my mind for the past two days. Hopefully, your Wednesday was better (I mean, it would take a lot for it to not be). Tell me about it in the comments aha, because I could use the cheering up to be honest.
(also, the next day I got my cat a little toy for helping my out with my panic attack)(she’s batted it a few times, but she mostly just sleeps with it to humor me)(she really is the best cat aha) This is her, post-bath, sleeping with the toy(: