Mr. Bun Buns

(NOTE: If you are not having a good day, DO NOT READ this. It's not going to make it any better.)

Don’t laugh, but I’m very sad that this little bunny is no more.

My aunt and I were driving back from a Women of Faith conference when we saw this poor, sweet animal standing in the middle of a two-lane highway. He looked confused, lost, wounded. My aunt was terribly upset, and I said, “Turn around! Turn around! We’ll go get him!”

She looked in her rearview mirror just to see him fall down. She turned around.

I would like to say that I dodged traffic to save him, but most of the drivers waited patiently for me to scoop Mr. George Bunikinz Bun Buns III (just wait) in my arms and head back to the Volvo. I think they were glad that I was saving him and not them. I had hoped someone would have picked him up before we did, too.

At first, he was terrified in my arms, but after a few minutes, he began jumping madly. I was so excited because he looked well and didn’t seem to have any broken bones. I held him closely and noticed blood on my pants and the car seat.

I called my husband within seconds from my house. “Come outside, but make sure Superdog is inside,” I said. As we pulled up, I held the rabbit up for him to see. His face showed elation at first at seeing such a sweet animal – and then shock as he wondered if this would become a new pet.

I gently placed Mr. Bun Buns (my name for him – Susie from Calvin and Hobbes had a stuffed toy rabbit she called Mr. Bun Buns) on the ground, and he slowly hopped around to the grass. And stopped. Several of our neighbors came by (which is when he acquired the name “George”), and those who live next door offered their large pen and a tarp to keep him safe.

Mr. Bun Buns had a deep, deep cut on his front paw. To the bone. He also had been hit in the mouth and had a cut on his ear. I’m not sure what internal injuries he had.

I felt confident Sunday morning that Mr. Bun Buns (who had by this time received the name Bunikinz) was going to live. I went to church happy, thinking that we would be able to release him to the wild shortly.

I’m not sure what happened between Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon, but in that time, Mr. Bun Buns went from good to bad.

We opened the gate door so he could see that he was not a prisoner and placed him on a damp towel to stay cool. He scooted off the towel and lay on his side. He would not eat. We fed him pet milk from a dropper, but over the next couple of hours, he would go from bad to worse.

At about 9 p.m., the neighbors and we decided that he needed to be put down to end his suffering. I cried. I hated the thought of someone taking him off where he would be scared and placed on a cold table and injected. I knew it was the right thing to do, though, so he wouldn’t starve himself to death, so I agreed.

I’ll be honest; I didn’t sleep much last night. I prayed God would take Mr. Bun Buns during the night so we wouldn’t have to have him put down.

And, as much as it hurt, God took Mr. George Bunikinz Bun Buns III (Husband added the “III” this morning). I teared up, but I was so happy. Mr. Bun Buns died on grass, in a safe place, where no predator could get him. We took care of him to the best of our ability, and at least he died somewhere outside, in peace.

Rest in peace, Mr. Bun Buns.