10/09/2026
What a week. What a day. What a test. So much heartbreak and purpose behind rescue work.
I was up and moving at 4:00 a.m. to take four rabbits in for spay and neuter surgeries. Sterilization days are always stressful because surgery is never without risk. Thankfully, all four made it through successfully, and now the healing begins.
The next several days will be rough, especially for the girls, but these procedures are such an important step toward helping rabbits find forever homes. As stressful as spay and neuter days can be, they are necessary. Female rabbits who are not spayed face an extremely high risk of developing uterine cancer by six years of age.
When I returned home this afternoon to get everybun settled into their recovery pens, I received a call from one of our foster-to-adopt families.
Mini Oreo had been doing great that morning. He happily ate his breakfast and showed no signs that anything was wrong. By late afternoon, however, he had become lethargic. There was no warning and no indication that our day was about to change so dramatically.
I instructed his family to load him up and head for the emergency vet while I rushed to their home. By the time I arrived, he was declining quickly. I held him in my arms as he had a seizure and passed away.
Mini Oreo was such a special little guy. He was an older bun who spent his short time with HHRR and his foster-to-adopt family living like a king, surrounded by love, comfort, and kindness.
After losing Carrot so suddenly earlier this week, losing Mini Oreo feels like being kicked when I am already down.
His foster-to-adopt family told me they don't know how I do this. They said I seem so strong and asked how I handle losing rabbits.
The truth is that losing a rabbit is never easy, and it has not become easier over the years. I feel every loss deeply.
The only reason I keep moving forward is because there are always others who still need me. I cannot simply stop and stay in that grief. I am also learning that I do not have to ignore my emotions or shove them aside. I am trying to give myself permission to feel them when they come.
The grief does not always arrive immediately. More often than not, the tears show up later, at strange and unexpected moments, usually when I finally feel safe enough to relax.
Right now, though, relaxing feels impossible. There is still a stray rabbit out there, vulnerable and unprotected, and I cannot stop thinking about that sweet soul.
The real rollercoaster of this week has been the contrast of it all.
There has been the joy and relief of catching one stray rabbit. The hope of a recent sighting of another. The heartbreak of losing two precious souls. The incredible kindness of volunteers coming together to help save these fuzzy babies. In so many ways, that kindness renews my faith in humanity.
Sometimes I find myself asking why life is like this. Why there can be such injustice and sadness alongside moments that feel like miracles.
This week has reminded me how closely joy, hope, grief, and loss can exist together.
Even today, in the middle of the heartbreak, I found moments of joy.
At 5:00 a.m., the moon was the most beautiful orange sliver hanging in the eastern sky. A delicate slice of warmth against the darkness.
Later, during my travels, I passed a camper from Alaska. I found myself wondering about their journey and how far they had traveled. Were they heading south? Trading the coming winter for warm sands and sunshine somewhere far away?
My son made me laugh with his impression of me as an old man.
Sometimes those little moments are enough to carry us through the hard days.
Tonight, please enjoy these photos of Carrot and Mini Oreo. Hold a special place in your heart for the girls they leave behind, Biscuit and Peanut. If you are the praying type, please send a few extra prayers for our recovering surgery patients and for the stray rabbit still waiting to be brought to safety.
❤️🐰
Run free, Carrot and Mini Oreo. You were loved, and you will be missed.
- Nicole
