Last night, while in Boston at the Doubletree Hotel on Soldiers Field Road (part of a two-night stay for business), I found myself stumped at what I should post on this weblog – after all, I was tired after a long hard day at work and there was no inspiration to be had. My laptop screen stared back at me, blank and unforgiving, and I was just about to say, “sod it”, and not post anything for the day when suddenly, out of the blue, the idea occurred to me to post a harmless piece of poetry about rabbits (hence yesterday’s post). While surfing the ‘Net for that particular piece of poetry, I also came across an ode to a rabbit who had apparently died at two years of age, and found myself suddenly feeling quite sad after reading it.

It wasn’t more than several minutes later that I realized my cell phone had been ringing (it had been on vibrate) and, calling home, was shocked to hear the news that our rabbit The Big Nipper had passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. He had shown no signs of illness or distress during the day; it just so happened that Tracey came in after an hour or two outside and discovered that he was not napping but actually dead in his cage area.

The Big Nipper was a wonderful rabbit – a truly gentle soul who, apparently, had not had a very happy existence before we brought him home from the Arizona Humane Society. He had been stuck at a Petco store for the better part of two months, and, as a result, had a propensity for nipping at you whenever a cleaning of his cage area was in order. This didn’t do much for his ability to make himself attractive as a pet – hence, his time at Petco – but I fell in love with him the first time I saw him.

The Big Nipper loved the security of his scent and his cage area, and, while he never quite got over the need to charge at you (and even nip at you) if you moved too quickly to replace his litter or water, after a time he really settled in to his new family and loved the attention and affection he was given. He loved to open his cage with his own teeth so that, when breakfast time came to the rabbit room, he’d be ready to greet you in his own way – loping (as opposed to hopping), one ear up and one ear down to greet you and wolf his piece of banana and romaine lettuce with joy.

More than anything else, The Big Nipper loved to arrange his cage area just so; he’d take his cardboard house and toss it upside down and tear holes in his favorite T-shit and the towels that served as a cage area floor. I also came to understand that TBN had a mischevous side as well; while taking his occasional romp around the house, he seemed to enjoy surprising people by mysteriously appearing out of nowhere from around a corner. More than anything else, however, he loved playing the role of suitor for the charms of She’s-A-Little-Half-Pint, the mini-lop dwarf who would always reject his advances, no matter how much of a gentleman he would attempt to portary himself as.

While built like a mini Sherman tank, The Big Nipper was a truly gentle soul who somehow realized that, after a number of years in the wild, he had finally found a home and a place where he could be comfortable. You could sense that in the way he slept – on his side, front and rear legs splayed straight out (like “road kill”, as we called it); it brings me comfort to know that it was while in this most comfortable (and for rabbits, most vulnerable) position that he passed away quietly last night.

The Big Nipper was a lovely creature, a gentle soul, a beautiful beast who loved to be loved and feeling secure in his surroundings at our house. He wasn’t with us long (not even a full year) but he found a way into our hearts that was unique and a joy to behold. And now he’s gone, and it is us who are the worse for it and mourn his passing – just as we’ve done for Rascal, Bandit, and Sparkle (cats), Ferd and Bird (parakeets), and Pepper and Marble (rabbits). Our hearts and thoughts remain with them as well this night.

Rest in peace, The Big Nipper – you were a gentle soul and a lovely beast, and your stay and presence in our household – as brief as it was – will be missed greatly.