Gnasher came to us sometime in 2005 - we can't recall the exact month. She had been dumped by her previous owner at the veterinary clinic where A. was working at the time. She initially stayed with us for a month or two that year, as a foster-rabbit, before returning to the clinic for a time in the hopes that a new home might be found for her - but eventually, she made her way back to us, in the summer/fall of 2006. At that stage, we estimate she was 1 or 2 years old.
It was pretty obvious why Gnasher was unlikely to be rehomed: she had quite the aggressive streak. Like the Killer Rabbit of Monty Python fame, she was possessed of "great, gnashing teeth" which she was not afraid to use (and which inspired the name we eventually gave her.) Who knows what was done to her when she was very young, to bring out such a nasty streak, but it made her a highly unattractive prospect to most, for rehoming. We thought we could give her a chance, though, and decided we were going to have to be the ones to take her on - since nobody else was likely to do it.
I have had many bunnies as pets, over the past 12 years or so, and I must admit that Gnasher was not my favourite of the bunch. Her temperament made her a difficult animal to care for. For the first two years we had her, I had to wear leather gloves any time I wanted to pick her up or even get close to her. When approached, she would hiss and honk in warning, then bite with little provocation. She bit me more times than I can count. Eventually, however, after several years of care, I learned to handle her without getting bitten (most of the time, anyway!). And we eventually bonded her to our other rabbit, Timmy - though not without a great deal of blood and flying fur at first! Poor Timmy really got the crap kicked out of him at times, but managed to hold his own.
Gnasher and the infamous "bunny corset"
Over this past winter, however, A. and I noticed that things were slowly changing. Gnasher didn't seem to be her usual self - but she was, after all, getting old. Her interest in food declined, and she began losing weight (not a bad thing at first, since she was always a bit of a porky critter and often stole poor Timmy's food). But more notably, her aggressive streak began to wane. In recent months she hardly ever honked or hissed at me when I approached her, and I could often pick her up with little fuss. A. examined her regularly and determined that she didn't appear to be in pain. Ironically, he had plans to take her into the clinic this weekend, and draw a blood sample to send away for analysis.
He never got the chance to do so. This morning, when he went down to the basement to feed our fish, he heard a thumping sound coming from the cage. It was Gnasher, in the midst of a seizure. A. picked her up and she immediately went limp. He examined her and attempted to resuscitate, but with no effect; minutes later, she was gone. Thankfully, it appears that she did not suffer. We'll never know what the true problem was, though A. suspects it was likely a liver or kidney issue (neither of which could have been treated effectively.)
Though Gnasher was definitely not an easy animal to love - she was what the late Steve Irwin might have classed as a "naughty little ripper" - we did care for her very much. Sometimes people and things come into our lives which are difficult, but we must nonetheless learn to live with them. She certainly taught me a thing or two about being more patient and tolerant. She is doubtless chasing other rabbits in Bunny Heaven right now, hissing and honking gleefully as she does so.
She leaves behind her cage mate Timmy, who will now live out his days unterrorized, but doubtless a lot more bored.
Gnasher and Tim
