He had me fill out a one-page form with my information, how I came to find the bunny and any other useful information. As I was doing that, he explained they had only been there about six months but were quickly becoming recognized state-wide, even outside of Colorado. I knew, in my gut, I was in the right place. There was even a resident german shepherd and Tucker, the cat. They were very friendly and didn't even try to get her (I had set the box on the table as I was filling the form out). Ryan, the guy helping me, was also very nice and good with the cat and dog, so again, I felt like I was in the right place. He explained that he would put her in an incubator to help keep her warm and a vet would be there in about an hour or two. I knew she might not live that long, but I had done all I could and I trusted he, and the vet, would too.
So I left feeling very emotional and drained; I knew I had done all I could but was still sad. I hurt when other people or animals are hurting. I seem to feel it on a level and in a way that is hard to describe in words. I also knew that somehow, someway, something bigger allowed our paths to cross (the bunny and I). I believe that without a doubt, especially on a spiritual level. And then to see that sign, after what felt like two failed attempts to help her the only way I knew how! I am reminded of the shoes. I thought it would be easy to just go the the UPS store and they would get them back. I thought my vet or perhaps the second place I went, could help the little bunny. I didn't think I would have to go across town and back again. But I became more and more determined, especially after seeing that sign, to not give up - just like with the shoes.
I don't know if this story will have a happy ending like the shoes or not. I called twice yesterday (the first time the vet was just getting there and the second time Ryan wasn't sure what the status was) and haven't heard today. Ryan said they would call, they have my information, but I may try and call this afternoon. After all that, I want so, so bad for her to live. I had this little precious life in my hands, literally and figuratively, and it broke my heart in a way words can't describe to see her hurting. I know one little baby bunny won't fix all my struggles or the world's, but that's not the point and that's not why I did what I did. Every life on this planet is important and when we turn our backs on even one little bunny in need, I think we die a little on the inside. I know I would and that's why I would do what I did all over again. I couldn't take away her pain, but I could be present to it, no matter how sad it made me, and do everything I could to help her.
As I was on C-470 westbound (probably around University), I wondered if I was 'holding on too hard' to wanting her to live. Not that I still wouldn't have kept going to Squirrel Creek but for her to endure the drive, etc., even though I wanted her to live, most of all I didn't want her to suffer. So I told her if she needed to let go, it was o.k. Letting go is one of the hardest things to do in life but is also one of the most freeing. I think that was as much about me letting go as her letting go. After all, she was still fighting when we arrived at Squirrel Creek. That was two hours after I found her under my car (and I don't know how long she had been there). And even though part of me didn't want to leave her, I felt she had the best chance there. As I was leaving, Ryan was telling me how they recently had a squirrel that had been shot in the head with a pellet gun. After more than one brain surgery, he actually lived.
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