Gone for the weekend

I went home yesterday as, today, my family and I have traveled to a family reunion.  I'll be here until Sunday, and then I'll be back to work Monday.

I guess, at Maurice's request...

My rabbit's name was Whiskers (once again, she was adopted, so the name was not ours).  She was... I believe the term was a Dutch rabbit.  She had a white streak down the top of her head and around the front of her torso, and the rest was an odd mismash of brown, gray, and white.  She lived to be about 14, according to my mom (who honestly knows better than I do).  We originally adopted her to keep our other rabbit, Cookie, company.  I remember how, at the beginning, they hated eachother.  They'd always get into a fight and cause a ruckus, so one of them had to be kept in the cage while one got to hop around the room.  It didn't take a long time for the two of them to bond, though.  It would become a habit of theirs to sleep on top of eachother.  It was adorable.

And then Cookie died.

We were out when it happened.  Someone who was watching our home had apparently heard her scream.  Apparently rabbits scream when they die?  Regardless, Cookie screamed and died, and we got back a day later.  We boxed her up and buried her in the back yard.

Whiskers...  She knew, I think.  Eventually.  The two of them had a ritual where one would thump theirs feet against the ground to alert the other, and we would sometimes thump against the grounds, and Whiskers would come running.  I think... she wanted to see Cookie one more time.  I'd like to think that.  Eventually, this reaction faded away, and she seemed to get a lot more withdrawn.

When I was younger, I loved to get down on the ground in front of them and watch them eat and give them Eskimo kisses (where you rub noses together, you know?) and I guess that's a little juvenile, but it was a symbol of my love for them, and I always tried to do that at least once per visit.

...I think I've thoroughly embarrassed myself now.  I'm heading to bed.