Bunny Boy and Me

by Nancy Laracy

  The young girl was jubilant. She was bouncing on the ottoman and twirling the strands of her hair with her fingers. At that moment, I knew this bunny was meant to be.

  We said our goodbyes, and Michele and I hugged each other, acknowledging the amazing coincidence of the little girl and her aunt. How could we not? We practically ran to find Ward and Keith, who were standing at the far end of the store, waiting to show us the same bunny table we had seen on the tour. Ward had stumbled upon it while searching for the men’s room.

  “It’s simply unbelievable!” Michele said to Ward and Keith.

  “We thought so, too!” they replied, referring to the table, which was truly exquisite.

  “No, not that! I mean this young girl who came out of nowhere and told us she happens to be buying a bunny tomorrow.”

  With great detail and emotion, I shared our story. Both Ward and Keith were visibly moved.

  “I believe the girl’s mother might have died,” I said. “She needs this bunny.”

  “Would you like the bunny table or the lamp for Christmas?” Ward asked.

  Normally I would have jumped at the offer. But instead, I said, “Thank you, but I’m not sure.”

  Something far more important was on my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder why I had met this young girl. I was deep in thought when I felt a soft tap on my shoulder—it was her!

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but can you please tell me the name of your bunny? I would like to name my rabbit after him,” she announced proudly.

  I threw my arms around her and looked up toward heaven.

  “His name was Bunny Boy—and Fluffett, when we thought he was a girl.”

  “My name is Amy.”

  I held her small body tight against me.

  “You have given me the gift of a lifetime, Amy,” I said. “Bunny Boy’s spirit will live on in your bunny.”

  Amy blushed and smiled at us. I cupped her delicate face with my hands. “You’re a very special little girl whom I was meant to meet. You see, I’m writing a book about Bunny Boy’s life, and I wasn’t sure how to end it.”

  “This is a magnificent ending to a beautiful story,” Michelle added. “Bunny Boy is still working his magic.”

  Indeed, he had. Bunny Boy had gone full circle.

  Epilogue

  The Friday after Thanksgiving, I went to pick up Bunny Boy’s remains from the Franklin Lakes Animal Hospital. As I walked through the door without the usual beautiful bundle in my arms, I took in the familiar surroundings—the bookshelves filled with novels about pets, the cages of rescue kittens, and the tropical fish tank. Bunny Boy and I had spent so much time there. That chapter of my life was now over.

  Donna handed me a small mahogany box and a white envelope. Inside the envelope was a card with Bunny Boy’s name inscribed beneath the meaningful words, “A Final Act of Love.” Underneath that was a beautiful meditation, entitled “The Rainbow Bridge”:

  Because of its many colors, the bridge connecting Heaven and Earth has come to be known as the Rainbow Bridge. Just this side of the Bridge, there is a land of meadows, hills and lush green valleys. When a beloved pet dies, this wonderful place serves as their new home. There is always an abundance of food and water and warm sunshine. Old and frail animals are young again, and those who have been maimed are made whole. They make new friends and play all day.

  There is one thing missing from these carefree surroundings though. The companionship of their loving masters. Time passes and soon another day comes when one of them is distracted by a familiar scent. With nose twitching, ears at attention and eyes staring in delight, this one runs from the group … YOU have been seen!

  As you embrace, your face is kissed again and again and again, and once more you look into the eyes of your loyal companion. You cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated.

  We can only hope …

  Before I left the hospital, my ears perked up to a familiar tune that was playing on the radio.

  “Listen to the radio!” I told everyone. “That’s my father’s song, ‘Moon River’!”

  On the drive here, I had spoken to him—as I always did—asking for his advice and help. I now knew for certain that Bunny Boy was fine on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

  My beautiful mother passed away from pneumonia the spring after Bunny Boy died. During that incredibly difficult time, I did a lot of soul searching amidst my grieving. I had thought that I could never have another rabbit or animal companion as special as Bunny Boy, but eight months after my mother’s death, a female Jersey Wooly rabbit named Muffin entered my life.

  Muffin helped to heal my heart, filling Bunny Boy’s huge paw prints. She would come to leave her own distinct mark on the world in a very different way. Inspired by the way Bunny Boy had comforted the residents of Oakland Rehabilitation Center, I started my own 501(c)(3) charity as the first bunny therapy team in the northeast region for Bunnies in Baskets, a pet therapy organization based in Oregon—and Muffin became the essence of my being and my work.

  Once we were certified as a therapy team, we visited several nursing homes in the area. When the tragic events in Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut, occurred, I was contacted by the director of the daycare center and nursery school that shared their driveway. I quickly drove up to Newtown with Muffin in tow and a car full of gifts and presents from our community—a few bunny books from our local library, a bunny craft for the children to do, and chocolate bunny lollipops from a local candy shop. It was a day that will be forever etched in my mind. Our healing power was tremendous.

  Within months of our first therapy assignment with the children of Sandy Hook, several other organizations dealing with sick and disabled children contacted me. Our town librarian referred me to Camp Dream Street, an organization in New Jersey that organizes a summer camp for children with cancer. Then CancerCare, a national organization, saw Muffin and me visiting patients at the Christian Healthcare Center in Wyckoff, New Jersey, and asked to meet with me. The Butterflies Program, a children’s hospice program out of Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey, also approached me at the facility that same day. I began planning bunny-esque therapy programs for both of their organizations. Word spread quickly and I soon found myself designing and implementing programs for the Spring Lake Toy Foundation and the Friendship Circle, other organizations in the New Jersey area that served sick and disabled children.

  I continued doing those programs until the fall of 2017 when Muffin died of congestive heart failure due to old age. She was seven years old, her life expectancy. I remain involved with all the charities, simply in another capacity.

  Tragically, Dr. Cheryl Welch passed away from metastatic pancreatic cancer about a year after we bought Muffin. She was forty-five. She was diagnosed seemingly out of the blue and lived only seven weeks from the date of her diagnosis. Cheryl left behind four children and a bustling veterinary practice, a huge loss to all. The tribute to her legacy throughout the community and county was astounding and well-deserved. She was truly special in everything she did during her life and posthumously, leaving her mark on the veterinary community with her innovative mind and wonderful people skills.

  • • •

  After Julie graduated from college, she became a teacher for underserved children in Philadelphia where she met her husband. She is now married with an infant daughter. Chris graduated from college with a degree in chemistry, and Ward is thriving, as busy as ever, in his same job as a lawyer.

  As for me, I am now a proud grandmother, and I continue my advocacy work for the chronic pain and animal assisted therapy communities—though without either of my amazing bunnies. I am now dealing with a third painful disease, an autoimmune disease called ankylosing spondylitis. Like Bunny Boy, I am coping with this additional curveball thrown in my path, hopefully with as much dignity, determination, and grace as he did.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Dr. Cheryl Welch an
d all the dedicated employees of the Franklin Lakes Animal Hospital who loved and cared for Bunny Boy over the nine years that he lived. I would also like to thank Dr. Welch for encouraging me to write this book—she had faith that I would follow the project through to the end. I would also like to thank Dr. Quesenberry, Dr. Hess, and all of the employees at the Animal Medical Center in New York for their wonderful care and faith in Bunny Boy’s resolve. Thank you for allowing Bunny Boy to be part of cutting-edge medical treatment for rabbits.

  To my editor, Kim Lim, who fell in love with the story from the first day she read it, thank you for making my words flow beautifully without changing the essence of the book! And thank you for being such a pleasure to work with. To Skyhorse Publishing—thank you for having the faith and foresight to publish a book from a first-time author with a remarkable story to tell.

  Finally, I want to thank my family for their love and support during this project, which began over ten years ago, and in particular my beloved mother who insisted that I could do anything, including writing a book. I am sorry, Mom, that you are not here to see the book completed.