You will always be our Shadow

I don't remember how old we were and I don't remember how long ago it was, but I remember the day we brought Shadow home.

I was invited by Tracy to her school festival, the theme being the Emerald City from the Wizard of Oz. There were all sorts of events and all sorts of people. I remember those details vaguely, but I remember the petting zoo. Where everything happened.

There were chickens. There were potbellied pigs. There were goats and sheep. There were rabbits. Many many rabbits. All young, multicolored bunnies. They had soft little skins, hidden nails on little paws and varied personalities. They all resembled one another in the most basic fashion, except for one little long eared lop. He was a mottled color, between black and gray, between tan and brown. He had dark eyes and a dark overcoat while his underbelly was a lighter color.

It was love at firth sight. I was as much in the love with the darling little creatures as Tracy was, but perhaps less than she. She was determined to bring a rabbit home, at that moment we didn't particularly favor any of the rabbits, but the lop had caught our attention.

Tracy learned the rabbits were available.

I don't remember the argument or discussion held with her mother, who was opposed to animals, already having Lassie. But whatever was said was said and she finally agreed.

We stood beside one another trying to make our selection. White ones with pink eyes. Black and white ones with fierce personalities. Brown shy ones. Black forgotten ones. And that little lop that nobody saw, except for us.

The little lop stood out for more reasons than just long ears.

He was placed in a cardboard box and the exchange was made. We excited rode home, peeking down constantly at the petrified little creature.

Tracy insisted on naming it right away. We assumed the rabbit whom we were told was a dwarf lop, was a female. Tracy wanted a boyish name, disliking most exceptionally feminine names. She wanted to call it "Dragon", but I stubbornly disagreed naming a soft, calm creature who ate nothing, but vegetables Dragon. I thought it was ridiculous and she later agreed upon the latter.

We settled for Shadow. It was the perfect name. For a bunny who was neither a lady or a gentleman in our minds at that moment.

A vet trip later revealed to us at how lucky and sensible we were for giving Shadow a genderless name. He was a boy.


Shadow you were never worth fifteen dollars. You were far more than that.

You always surprised us. At times you were so calm and quiet, at others shy and meek and sometimes you just let those nails fly everywhere. But you were so affectionate and attention seeking as you grew older and larger than you were supposed to be.

It'll never be the same anymore. I won't be able to look out the window and see Tracy's parents airing out the bunny, as my mother called it.

It won't be the same, because I won't see him hopping or squatting in the shade, within the bunny run.

I won't have to save him in case the dog gets out again. Tracy won't have him on her lap on a towel when watching TV. And we won't scold him for nibbling wall paper in the bathroom anymore.

I'll miss you. We'll miss you. Be free of pain and hop to your heart's content in whatever bunny heaven you choose to be in.

You will always, always be our Shadow.