Mr Beezhold, the bunny

 

                Mr. Beezhold the Bunny—NOT our friend we named the rabbit after—died on Monday night. He had a good long life in our back yard. He was about a year old when we adopted him from the shelter and he bunned around for eight years with us. He spent his mornings basking in the sun while in his hutch and hopped out on his own when the light shifted. Then, he followed the sun in the winter and the shade in the summer, creating little hidey holes all over the yard. One week, he’d be in the asparagus bed, the next, under the garden bench.  He would sneak into the potato bed and cover himself with the vines or tuck in under the tall tomatoes in August. Sometimes, he would just….disappear. We would look all over the yard twice, poking into all of his preferred spots and….no bunny. Then we would go into the house, look out five minutes later, and there he would be, sunning himself in a garden bed. He could shift into the fifth dimension, we decided. At twilight, we would go out and tuck him into the hutch for the night. For years we could herd him in the right direction and he would just hop up by himself (most of the time. Sometimes he liked a good chase around the hutch). Some nights, he liked a nose rub and being carried to bed. As he grew older this past year, jumping up was harder for him and we boosted him in most nights.

                He was a good bunny. He was tolerant of small children, having his butt washed, and kittens stalking him. He shared space—and crunchies—with the chickens regularly. He loved a good nose rub and to have his dead fur pulled out for him. On Sunday, he hid on us for a couple of hours, tucked in the way back among the wild hyacinth greens. Mark brought him in at dusk and dried him off thoroughly with an old towel. And that was it.  We buried him deep in the garden bed, in one of his favorite corners, and I will plant some broccoli, which was his favorite leaf, over him this spring. We will miss him.