bunny baby

              Charity found the tiny bunnies. The lawn mower had killed it's mother and siblings. She held the little long eared body in her small hands. “Mom, save it.” I didn't know what to do.

         

         I told her to pary for it. She cupped it in her five year old hands praying for it in one breath, and giving resitation with the next. I rushed her into my car. I could not let the tiny life die in her hands without trying. I put the seat belt around the both of us, and sped to the vetinary clinic.

         

         When we walked into the waiting room, my little daughter walked right up to the window. “This baby is dying.” The lady came from behing the window and looked at the bunny. We could still see its minuscule chest moving with shallow breathing.



         “Can I have it?” The nurse asks. “I will see what I can do.” She tells me that the little animal would not live, and she holds it in her hands until it gave up its last bit of breath.



         Charity's overflowing eyes were filled with anger when the nurse hands her back the animal. In the car, my little girl looks at me and says. “I tried to save its life, and I prayed for it. In the end it didn't matter.” She looks down at the little limp creature that lies in her hands.