The Bunny Died and Adam's Poison Ivy

      You know how there are those times in your life when you wish you would've thought things through?  Paid a little more attention?  This week was one of those times.
        A few years ago, we got the sweetest bunny on earth.  He was literally like having a stuffed animal with a heartbeat.  He nestled into your arms, wiggled his adorable nose and begged to be loved.  

     We named him, Caramel and he had the life.  Our four kids loved him, held him and gave him time outside on our screened porch to play with our cat and dog.  The kids and our pets spent countless hours together. 

      This year for whatever reason,  I thought of something new.  We had found a couple of ticks on our dog and when giving her Frontline, I saved a small amount to put on the rabbit to keep him from getting anything when being outside.  I actually questioned why I hadn't thought of it before, seeming so simple and smart.  
        That's when everything took a turn.
      Caramel began acting "off".  When we tried to pick him up he hid instead of coming to us.  He  began behaving sporadically and  twitchy.  He wouldn't eat, drink and eventually began to have seizures.  Doing online research only revealed the paralyzing truth.  Frontline is extremely toxic to rabbits.  We began washing the back of his neck, hoping to get it off.  All six of us tried to work to save him.  With another seizure,  our daughter was in hysterics and begged us to take him to the vet.  
     This is where parenting becomes hard.  Half of your brain thinks, "It's a rabbit" while the other half feels the love, heartbreak not to mention the horrible guilt for what your kids are going through.  My husband (God love him) ran to grab a towel to wrap the bunny up.  Telling our oldest son to watch the kids, he looked at me with that, "Let's go" urgency as we raced to the 24 hour emergency vet.   Did I mention it  was almost midnight?  He and I both thought the obvious and didn't want the kids to be there to witness  the vet putting him down.  
      As Adam sped, I sat holding this little one bundled up, while memories began to flood and I couldn't keep from sobbing.  We called the emergency vet  as we flew and they were ready to take him from us in the parking lot upon arrival.  
      In what seemed like a lifetime, the vet eventually said they could give him fluids and anti seizure medication, but there wasn't much else they could do.  She stated even in their field they have found through research how lethal  Frontline is to rabbits, but it's not widely known.  
      I was mad at myself.  Furious that I didn't even think to question before applying the Frontline.  I actually thought I was keeping him safe, yet here he was, struggling to live.
       We took him home, took turns throughout the night and into the day.  He rested peacefully, giving us all hope he was going to be okay.
       Later the next day however,  the seizures began again and we gathered around to try and help.  Placing our hands on him, trying to ease his suffering, the seizures stopped as he calmly relaxed and softened.  Our daughter  looked up through tears and said, "He's okay now...he stopped!" but my husband and the boys knew.  Looking to each of us, she searched for assurance whispering, "I'll pick him up because he's okay now" and before we could stop her, she tried, but he was gone.  
      Gently pulling him against her, she began to weep, asking if he would wake up.  She tried as we hugged her, telling her how sorry we were.  Refusing to believe he was gone, a few minutes  passed when she cuddled him and eventually broke down.  
     Going outside, as though on autopilot, my husband began to dig, I suppose in his mind to prevent prolonging the inevitable.  I followed him as the kids took turns holding Caramel to say their goodbyes.  

    I went back to Adam to see how he was doing.  Looking down, I noticed he was digging in areas of perfectly three leafed plants.  "Um, honey, not to interrupt, but you know you're digging in poison ivy, right?" 
    (I grew up in the country and he, having grown up in cities and Air Force bases, have completely different skill sets of survival.)      "It's fine, I've never had poison ivy.  It's okay."  He simply responded.

       We gathered round, placed Caramel softly in the ground, giving him final prayers with his favorite mini carrots placed on top of him.
       It's one of the hardest thing to go through when their hearts are broken.   Lauren Elizabeth's best friend came over to hug her which helped so much.
       The next day, as you would imagine, Adam itched everywhere.  His shins, his arms, his hands.  The only humor I could find through the hurt of our hearts was when Adam shot a look at me as I covered my smile refusing to give him the "I told you" speech.  It wasn't the time and we'd all been through enough.  
      His poison ivy spread and became worse and worse.  I texted a friend, Heather who is a nurse, sending a picture and she said to get him to the doctor.    

     The irony in the fact that he'll run a pet for medical attention in the middle of the night in a heartbeat, while refusing to go himself is beyond confusing to say the least.
      He  went yesterday, got a shot and a prescription and is feeling a hundred times better.  
      Life is full of ups and downs.  You learn to know who to lean on and count on through good and bad.  Some of the hardest lessons will stay with you for a lifetime, while guiding you through your path.   
​    We will miss Caramel and all the love he shared.  As sure as I know I'll never mindlessly put something on a family pet without researching endlessly from now on...I also know it'll take awhile before Adam will ever want to step one foot outside again.