REMEMBERING HESTON KALM
8/11/11-3/7/22
“Why love if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore, only the life I have lived. Twice in that life, I’ve been given the choice. As a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.” Jack Lewis, Shadowlands
(Today is not a day for a regular blog. I hope you will allow me this space to grieve.)
With us for almost six years, Heston brought more joy to us than I could ever have imagined. As my seventh rabbit, I thought I knew so much about the love bunnies can bring to us. But that was before we met Heston. A few months after we lost Francisco D’Anconia (Cisco), we decided to find a new bunny. We’d had a number of lops and thought we’d get another one, but our usual rescue group, House Rabbit Society, had none. We found a gorgeous lop online at Save A Bunny, tiger-striped and named Pilot, but he didn’t want to get to know us. A few rabbits in, Mike and I thought perhaps we just weren’t ready. And then I stood up and saw one more. Named Kyle at the rescue group, this gorgeous rabbit ran directly to us, putting his head down for pats. I had never felt chosen before. In minutes, we had the paperwork done and handsome Heston ready to go. (We had to change his name; we watch too much South Park).
An older bunny, we knew our time with him would never be enough, but wanted whatever we could get. He had some issues with stasis, a condition where the rabbit stops eating and can quickly die. But with the help of various rescue groups and our vet, we brought him safely through a number of bouts. In between, he spent as much time with us as possible, sitting on his rug to watch me Jazzercise, sitting near us in the evenings for TV and sleeping under our bed. His generous spirit inspired us and brought us closer as a family.
Despite our many travels, we always looked forward to the end of a trip, knowing our delightful rabbit was waiting to see us. His warm and wonderful sitter, Jillian Johnson, won his heart, but such a large heart could embrace many people. Even my sister, Debbie, was won over by his affection.
Never bothering to learn his name (and we called him so many things), he did learn the word “treat” and would beg for one as long as we offered. Mischievous by nature, he liked to hide from us, especially after he had chewed some carpet or the ties to my slippers. But you could never really get angry with him.
A few months ago, his comfort zone shrank and we transferred his food and litter box to be closer. He couldn’t really manage his cage or the higher box, but we found ways to support his more limited movement. Immediately, he figured out his new arrangement and fed and cleaned himself as usual. But we began to know that he was slowing down. Pain meds probably bought him some time, but on Friday, he stopped eating or drinking. We tried to tempt his appetite with his favorites and even once, tried to force-feed him some nutrients. He growled.
I didn’t understand at the time how strong a spirit he had, but I should have. After all, he chose us to be his parents. It makes sense that he would choose when he wanted to leave too. We kept watch throughout the weekend, putting treats closer to him, and of course, petting him as much as he could bear. Sunday night, I knew that this would be his last night and cried myself to sleep. Death hurts the survivors, but frees the one who dies. In the morning, his fur as soft as ever, he was gone, with a look of peace in his eyes.
“It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body anymore, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch.” Richard Adams, Watership Down
“”How lucky I am to have known somebody and something that saying goodbye to is so damned awful.” Evans G. Valens, The Other Side of the Mountain: The Story of Jill Kinmont
“Sometimes it seems that to exit this world, they must go through my heart, leaving me scarred and sore.” Dean Koontz, Forever Odd
