Molly Sleeps
#131/365 Paintings
It seems fitting to conclude this group of paintings with a painting of Molly’s peace.
When she was a baby, she had a thing for this blue cube bed (in painting). She’d disappear in it for hours. Sometimes I’d find her feet up, head cocked sideways sound asleep—so safe in her blue cube. I’ve had dogs and cats in the past and other animals, but there is something so paradoxical about a peaceful, sleeping rabbit—not a care in the world while large humans walked around in proximity. I would often wonder… how did I deserve such trust from an animal with every right to be scared of everything? Very touching really. That paradox.
She had super long eyelashes. When men friends came over they’d often say something to the tune of…”Wow, very feminine looking rabbit, is she available?”
While Molly loved to play and be sassy and stubborn, there was always a time in the day when she looked for her blue cube to retreat into Molly-land.
I picked up her ashes today. Wherever she is, I really hope she’s feeling as peaceful as the look on her face from her well worn blue bed.
R.I.P. — Rabbit in Peace.
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Notes: While there might be more paintings of Molly to come within the month, my heart is spent for now. As my sweet friend Cynthia says: “There are still MANY Molly painting within you… yet to rise to the top like cream. Like dreams, they will come in time as summoned…”
My fingers have happily answered over 100 emails and messages on FB from amazing people who ‘get it’ and are feeling this with me. I miss her madly. But, painting her and realizing I’m not alone in the pain of pet loss (“friend” loss) has helped tremendously. Thank you.
(o)
Niya, I know I’ve said it on Facebook, but once again, you have my condolences. We who have bunnies in our lives will always have a special one, one that touched our hearts. Mine was Shadow. He was my first house rabbit. I hand reared him from the time he was 2 days old, because his mother had rejected the litter. He would run around my feet every time I came into the room. Every night, he would wait for me to get into bed, then do a running leap into the bed, jump up on my chest, and just kiss my face for about 20 minutes, then fall asleep. At some point in the middle of the night he’d get off my chest, do a huge bunny flop next to me, and go back to sleep. I think he was one of the biggest reasons I was able to make it through 8 weeks of hospitalization for an illness that almost killed me. He wouldn’t leave my side when I finally got home. He died in my arms one night. I think about him every day. I still cry about him. I miss him like crazy, even after 9 years. He was a special bunny, just as Molly was special. Thank you for sharing her.
Niya and Peggy: I am amazed at the uninhibited ways our animals love us and teach us to love. Such sweet stories; so sad at the same time, but mostly so wonderful.
Very well said Kathy.