Sad news, friends. Gilda died yesterday.
I don't know how to tell people this without being dramatic. I thought about writing a mass email, but I just couldn't face it. Yesterday, I woke up to Gilda making a strange coughing noise. I rushed to her side, but I could tell it was already too late. I begged her not to go and took her body to the emergency vet, but all they could do was confirm what I already knew - Gilda was gone.
Everyone at the vet's office was extremely kind - they let me take my time sobbing, and brought her in one last time so I could say goodbye. "They're very affectionate," the receptionist said, trying to console me. "I have a couple rabbits at home."
I wanted to say, no she wasn't. My Gilda was a snarly little misanthrope. If anyone tried to pet her, she would dart to the furthest corner of her cage. If you got in her face, she'd thump her legs and grunt angrily. When she met my friend's yorkie puppy, she charged at him (thank goodness he was outside of her pen). Once, she bit my mother so hard it drew blood.
But when I had a bad day, she'd let me pick her up and stroke her beautiful, soft fur. She'd sniff around my face, tickling me with her little whiskers. I didn't even mind the way she'd scratch and nibble at my shirt, because I knew that was her way of saying, 'this is mine.' And when she was dying, instead of retreating to her favorite corner, she came and lay down at the edge of her pen closest to my bed.
She was way too young to die. I wanted ten years with her, instead of the less than two we actually got. But I know she is one with brahman now, so she will always be with me. And I sincerely hope that I meet Gilda again, in her next life. I expect I'll know her by the way she glares.