My sweet Cubby bunny has a mass in his chest, most likely a thymoma. It's keeping him from breathing properly, and eating. Removing it is beyond my vets' capabilities, and even if it was within their capabilities, I wouldn't put Cubby through it. Thoracic surgery is not easy or painless.
Cubby is 8 years old, possibly older. He's a sweet white and black himalayan dwarf, with fur as soft as plush, white as snow with dark gray/black points. We adopted him in January 2002 a few months after one of our other rabbits passed away. How anyone could have given this sweet boy up is beyond me. Picking him up was easy. Loving him was a breeze.
Today we will give him an easy passing. And miss him terribly.
Is it a kind of a dream
Floating out on the tide
Following the river of death downstream
Oh is it a dream?
There's a fog along the horizon
A strange glow in the sky
And nobody seems to know where it goes
And what does it mean?
Oh is it a dream?
Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail?
How can the light that burned so brightly,
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes
Is it a kind of a shadow
Reaching into the night
Wandering over the hills unseen
Oh is it a dream?
There's a high wind in the trees
A cold sound in the air
And nobody ever knows when you go
And where do you start?
Oh into the dark
Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail?
How can the light that burned so brightly,
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes
Bright eyes, burning like fire
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail?
How can the light that burned so brightly,
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes
"Bright Eyes" by Steven Gately
