This is the first anniversary of our little cat Misha’s passing. In remembering her, I’m reminded of another small creature who left a huge imprint on my heart.
Flopsy-Jean Teemley was a chocolate brown Holland lop, and the first child my wife Trudy and I raised together. We’d only been married a few months when we spotted her in the bunny bin at a local pet shop. She was ridiculously cute. But she was also wild and afraid. Rabbits survive by running away, so she spent her first week with us cowering in corners. I complained to Trudy that I’d wanted a “real pet,” not a wild, untamable creature that couldn’t love me back.
And then we discovered that, while Flopsy may have been Dutch, she was rabid fan of Swedish massage; wildly aggressive back rubs instantly transformed our frightened little rabbit into a blissful bunny rug. Soon she was waiting at the door when we came home, racing excitedly around our feet, and performing “crazed bunny” leaps for our delight.
By the time our first human child was born, Flopsy was middle-aged. She was wary of this teetering toddler, and soon resigned herself to letting it be the new household entertainer. But she was always near, always ready for a nose rub, a permanent member of the family no matter who else was added.
Flopsy-Jean was seven when she began to die. She’d remained in her hutch for the last two weeks, refusing to eat or even sip from her water bottle. I went to check on her, fearing the worst, and put a few rolled-oats in front of her (her favorite treat). Nothing. So I stood up and started to walk away.
Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my eye. Somehow, after remaining motionless for a week, Flopsy had managed to climb out of her hutch and drag herself over to me. I bent down and stroked her nose. She nudged my hand. So I got down on my belly, face to face with her.
And then, in as clear a “goodbye” as I’ve ever received, she pressed her cheek against mine and just held it there. I wept as I told this formerly wild animal I loved her too, and then gently cradling her in my arms, carried her back to her hutch.
By the next morning she was gone. But not from my heart.
It was the most profound moment of communion I’d ever experienced with an animal. I knew—knew—that God was speaking to me through her. What he was saying, I’m still unraveling; that he means for us to love and learn from animals, certainly. But more, I suspect.
Much more.
Pets that we have loved will always be in our hearts. Each has something to give and something to learn from.
Beautiful! God bless!
Thanks, Nancy, you too!
Lovely, Mitch! 🙂
Thank you, T.
My pleasure.
Oh Mitch, yes, so many pictures of God! I cowered in the corners of life, so afraid of ‘believers’ and the judgment that knowing them and their message would bring on my life. But it was quite the opposite once one of ‘them’ drew close to me in a vividly unthreatening way, rescuing me from my cage, the prison of my past and sin. It was easy to listen her, to be rubbed by HIS love by one of HIS own. Once I met HIM, I wanted that rub all the time… and like you were with your bunny, HE has been ever gentle and kind, nourishing and caring. Am I eager to greet HIM at the door of my heart every day? Oh, how I hope so. And now, I trust HE will be with me to the very end, when one day I will behold HIS giant love for me face-to-face! And, if HE allows, I would love to press my cheek to HIS for a while. Sounds so heavenly, doesn’t it!?! 🙌🏻✝️♥️
It does indeed, Dori.
This is such a beautiful, profound, sad and sweet story. Made me teary-eyed.
Me too, sis. I relived it as I wrote it, and cried all over again.
What an endearing story! Thank you for sharing.
My privilege, San.
One of my son’s rescued a one year old Netherland Dwarf Bunny in his HS senior year and them went off to college. We had that bunny 12 more years and I, like you, was devastated when he passed. God’s creatures can often connect with us emotionally. 🙂
They certainly can, Nancy.
My very first cat, when I was ten, was called Misha. As was one of my mum’s childhood cats.
Aww.
Oh Flopsy Jean. She made me cry! I had 7 white rabbits.One each Easter from my uncle. Six were Snowball and the 7th trc was Snowflake. I loved those bunnies! Thank you for this lovely post.
My privilege, Joanne.
:’-) ❤️
A sweet tribute to love ❤️
nice share
Thank you, Obaid.
Mitch,
So sweet. It’s easy to take our pets for granted. I know I do. Thanks, Gary
Gary Avants Forbear Productions * *garyavants66@gmail.com garyavants66@gmail.com
Animals are amazing creations of God. They know more than we may ever realize about true love and devotion. What a precious moment you had with Flopsy Jean!
Hmmm…I should have signed in for the above comment. 🙂
Animals know so much. I’m glad Mitch had this interspecies moment.
This is beautiful. Our pets and animal loved ones do become like family to us and teach us so much about love and life itself.
This breaks my heart to learn about your first baby with your wife . . .Flopsy-Jean, but I’m relieved to learn her death taught you something, too.
“I knew—knew—that God was speaking to me through her. What he was saying, I’m still unraveling; that he means for us to love and learn from animals, certainly. But more, I suspect.”
Peace and blessings, Mitch. 🙏🏾
You too, dear friend.
Wonderful experience- thanks for sharing.
My privilege.
I understand your story. I can’t remember a time in my life — even as far back as my toddler years — when there was not a beloved fur companion in my life. Each angle brought her or his own lesson of love, compassion, and sharing. Every creature, regardless of wild or tame brings us a lesson from God. They are His angels.
According to C.S. Lewis, you’ll probably see that rabbit in Heaven and be able to massage her again.
❤️&🙏, c.a.
I would so love that, C.A. And I’m inclined to agree with Jack.
Made me shed a tear!😮💨
I can so relate. I will have to share my Hamster story soon.
Please do, Venus.
It’s amazing what can be communicated without words. I agree with you, God speaks in that space.
My cat who never slept in bed with us, one night suddenly slept all night right in between my husband and I. Within the next couple days she declined and started hiding in the closet. It really felt like she knew what was to come.
I’m sure you’re right, Sarah.
Made me cry, Mitch! So many loved creatures, so much of God I learned through them!
Like some, I’m believing they’re waiting for us ~ and I swear some may have been ministering angels in disguise. Surely the God who knows when a sparrow passes loves His creatures enough to bring them Home.
Blessings, Anne
I agree, Anne.
I think you’ve experienced more of God’s heart during you last moments with Flopsy. God also cares deeply for animals, even more than most people: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.” (Matt. 10:29)
I completely agree, Leo and Nina.
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This is such a touching, heartfelt post. I’m a huge fan of lop bunnies, but I’ve never owned one. This made me teary eyed. I guess our pets become our children too. We had a German Shepherd who died when he was 10. He was like a child to us.
I completely understand.
Cosmo, our beloved mini-Rex, lived to the ripe old age of eight years and eight months. His death affected me even more than it affected my daughter and wife. Here’s a link to an old song called “Wayland the Rabbit” by Seals & Crofts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ri8YGDFPUE It’s primarily about a boy and his dad, but a rabbit plays a prominent role. It usually makes me cry, but in a good way.
Such wise and touching lyrics, Keith.
I should add, the song is rather slow in loading, but it’s well worth the wait.
I’m not crying. *wipes eyes
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