Moseph the Cottontail rabbit
by Laura Corbier
It all started on a gorgeous August afternoon in 1999 (I think). One of our dogs alerted us to a bunny nest in our garden. We found a nest disturbed and there was a large baby bunny about 5 inches in length laying over three much smaller babies underneath. The large baby had been killed, we thought most likely by a stray cat which the dog had scared off with it’s barking from her run.
My husband Dave removed the dead bunny and then replaced the nesting material back over the surviving babies. I began an internet search to find information on what we should do next. After much reading we realized it was best to leave them alone, but to check on them the next day. Apparently the mother only comes to the nest twice a day to nurse for only a few minutes even if the nest has been moved. So we thought we’d just keep our eye on the situation. It was the third day when we realized the babies were in serious trouble. Their once plump little bellies were shrunken and all three would pop around looking for their Mum, obviously she wasn’t coming back for them.
We called our vet and they recommended cat milk as a substitute for their mother’s milk. The internet informed us not to give too much as it could kill them. We used a syringe for the first few days. The poor little things would not take the milk very well, we relied on the gravity method. Two of the babies died of bloat, one of them in the vet’s office waiting to get in, but the third one thrived, learning to suck from a bottle. He’d go right for it, stretching himself up to grab the nipple.
Our plan was to nurse the little guy for the two weeks they would naturally nurse from their mum; and then release him at about three weeks old. Intentions are always good, but then someone screws it up. I’m raising my hand now. I felt so sad for him once he was alone with no other baby to snuggle with. I would put him on my shoulder and he’d snuggle into my neck licking me enjoying the warmth. ( huge mistake!) This went on for about a week until he became confident being independent. He started nibbling grass and rolled oats, we thought it was time to take him to the yard for release.
He sat out in the middle of our grape vine rows for two days, without the sense to even hide. I couldn’t stand it any longer then that, I sent Dave out to retrieve him, maybe for just another few weeks more and we’d try again. Yea right! I just couldn’t bear the idea of him being eaten by the cat that got his mom and other sibling.
We got him a little cage and we started training him use the littler box. Both Dave and I were mesmerized by this wild creature now sharing our living room. He was a perfect little guy. He’d play on the floor with the cat’s toys. He always used his littler box, never making any mistakes! As he grew I came to realized I could never let him go, I was just too afraid for him. He got on well with our cats so how why would he ever fear one out in the wild. So Dave made him a three story condo that was four feet wide, two feet deep and three feet tall, I even made him a soft mattress. 
Weeks turned into months and our little baby no longer looked like a little mouse, but now a wild rabbit. We had a family friend that would come just to see him, also in awe of us sharing our home with this little miracle of nature.
Moe wouldn’t let us pick him up anymore or really pet him either, but he’d sit in my lap and take treats from my mouth. Moe would share his greens with our cat Molly, and often he’s sit on the back of the couch to watch TV with cats on either side. He’d also sit in front of the TV, so we could admire him. Another of his favorite places was up in the window sill so he could look outside. I’d sometimes wonder if he wished he were out there. But I really believed he liked his life with us. We’d bring him apple branches and pick him a variety of natural greenery from outside.
As he approached his sexual maturity of four months old we debated as what we should do. We knew we could never release him, euthanizing him at that point would have been kinder than just turfing him out in November. Our vet agreed there was no going back at this point, we were committed, so we decided to neuter him in hopes of saving him the hormonal anguish that would be sure to follow. Looking back from this point in life, I should have been committed, I wish we’d never done it !
The surgery went well without complication and Moe was recovering well. The staff not wishing to stress our wild guy left him until we were ready to bring him home. To our horror we could then see he had removed several of his stitches, leaving him with a gaping incision. That’s when it got scary. The vet was uncertain of putting him under again to re stitch him, so we had to do it with Moe awake. It took three of us to hold him while the vet closed him up again. We all knew it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. He was a wild creature and we were trying to make him into a house pet. Our intentions were about love and saving him, but the result were futile. So we got the little guy put back together OK, but then we had to put the cone on him to keep him from tearing out the stitches again. I guess this was a time before gluing incisions. It’s never been an issue with any of my other rabbits since, they always get glued instead of stitched.
Now we had a cranky rabbit with a cone around his neck. Moe was pretty mad, he couldn’t reach his night stool and therefore had it smeared all over his cone. I was groveling and pleading my case to him one afternoon when he was particularly crabby. He took his front foot and flicked a nice wet, sloppy night stool clump right into my face. What could I say, I told him I knew I deserved it. Thank God he did forgive once the cone came off a few days later.
So we continued on from there into the winter, grateful that hurtle was over. Moe seemed happy and playful and always ate well for the most part. There had been about four incidents of him being off his food for one day, but then always back to normal. He loved his treats and always shared with the cat. Never ever did you see any poo balls out of the littler box, he was perfect.
It was some time in the late part of January at around 8 pm, when I noticed a trail of poo balls in the window where Moe liked to sit. I looked around and also some urine. In a panic I looked for Moe and found him resting under the computer desk. What could possible be wrong I wondered, we had taken measures to bunny proof the place after he had annihilated a few unplugged extension cords. Little guy loved wiring! In my panic I wondered if he had been electrocuted or poisoned by something. I reached down and picked him up, there was no fight in him, now I was terrified. Dave called the vet and said we were on our way. It takes a half hour to get there, I think we made it in twenty minutes, both of us were in a state of shock.
By the time the vet started to examine him he began to go into a massive seizure and finally died a few moments later. It all began and was finished in about two hours. We had the option of leaving him for a necropsy, but I couldn’t stomach the thought. We talked awhile with the vet once we could stop crying. The best guess after hearing his history of being off food for a day here and there was an upset in his natural bacterial levels in his gut.
After much reading I came upon some articles on the internet that talked about giving orphaned babies the night stool of another doe to help ensure the baby would have the proper bacterial environment that would then enhance their immunity. So there it all was. I was trying to save him from his natural life expectancy out in the wild which would be about six months. Although after he imprinted on us it would have been drastically shorter. He died at he age of six months anyway. It was a tragic loss for us, both Dave and I cried for days. There was a massive gap in our life where he used to be, nothing would ever fill it. The vet’s last words to us that night was to go out and get another bunny right away. I vowed I never would. I just couldn’t love something that much and loose it again.
We stared at Moe’s empty condo for hours. We came to realize it was too big to get it out the door. Dave had built it in the house. That made me cry even harder, the thought of tearing down his home seemed like the final straw I could not bear. So we drove to town and went to the pet store to look at bunnies.
We did bring home the cutest thing, but it took a while before I could warm up to her. I still grieved for Moe. He would never be replaced. He was miracle that should never had happened in our lives, but he taught me the gift of acceptance, and allowing something to be what it truly is. We can not change something’s true nature.
We will fondly remember him in all his names, Moseph, Moe, MoMo and Mower.
Tags: cottontail, orphaned bunny
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