What Duncan taught me

Sometimes, when life is hard, I wish I had a fluffy bunny to coddle and squeeze. Nothing is as comforting as seeing a cute bunny face -- especially when they stand up to look up at you with that nosy, expectant expression, adorably puffy cheeks, and itty-bitty arms hanging just so.

Having a pet taught me that I was capable of loving a non-relative unconditionally in a way I’d never felt before and haven’t since.

Having a pet taught me not to be afraid of silly things -- the dark basement, bunny beans, germs (well … I’m still working on that last one). I miss opening my bedroom door in the evenings to find him patiently waiting there for me to let him in. I miss hearing his deep hum announcing his arrival.

Having and losing a pet taught me what utter heartbreak feels like. As I write this, I feel the same overwhelming pangs of grief I experienced six years ago when my Lovely was taken away from me so tragically.

He still makes a regular appearance in my dreams -- considerably more so than anybody or anything else. He often makes his entrance, in these dreams, by excitedly running to me in my bedroom to accept some affectionate rubs, much as he did in life. And, as crazy as it sounds, I know Duncan loved me, too.

A 3-month-old Duncan on his first afternoon at the Ma residence with a too-large food bowl that previously belonged to a rottweiler.