Bunnies are just cute. They whiffle their noses and jump around and over and sometimes on each other, and decide it’s time to be over there right now, and dash and then sit and whiffle and wonder who decided it was time to be over here now.
And sometimes bunnies hurt themselves, or another bunny hurts them by mistake. It just happens, when you’re very small, still growing, and have all the muscle-and-leverage gifted to a bunny. Cats get stuck in high places, dogs eat things that hurt them, bunnies run and jump faster than their baby bones can cope with sometimes.
One of the babies hurt herself so badly that she was paralyzed. It didn’t hurt, but it confused her and she couldn’t do the things that bunnies do. I made sure she had cuddles, and was warm, and did what you can do for a bunny who can only move one leg.
I will never like this. I’ve sat next to too many bunnies, cats, dogs, people. Every time, I think of something from Neil Gaiman. Every time I know it’s right.
Every time it is no comfort at all.
Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry