‘Not being dead for anyone…’
‘Not being dead for anyone…that’s the risk the dead take’ writes Vinciane Despret…
Driving home in December rain. About 10.30pm, and nearly there when we see a huddled form in the headlights. We stop. Familiar dread at finding the only half alive. A young rabbit. His fur is sodden and his breath is coming in ragged gasps. A fleeting second of hope that perhaps he’s ok and then I see where he’s been hit. One eye bulges and stares upwards in a cruel, blood-filled simulacrum. I panic - terrified of causing more harm. But there’s no time to think - other headlights are coming fast and I can’t leave him…
At home I do all the usual; dark, warmth, quiet. He is deeply, traumatically shocked. There are no obvious broken bones but his terrible, haunting eye, the strange tilt of his head and his frantic, fighting breath suggest harms I cannot see. At 3am he is a little calmer, but the hours to come are filled with his pain and fear and the reality of the consequences of that one glancing blow. Later a friend arrives and we manage to administer some pain relief. He struggles. It’s messy. Imperfect. The room is filled with his panicked breathing and we agonise over whether we should take him to the vet, the rescue centre, but the trauma of moving him seems too much.
The end is not long and when it comes it is a relief. Suddenly the room is quiet and it’s over. I’m desperately sad. Racked with guilt and uncertainty. Maybe I should have left him? Maybe it would have been quicker, kinder? I don’t know. Later we find out that he’d been on the road for more than 2 hours. I hope that the dark was better than the blinding fear of every passing car; the warmth better than midwinter rain; that the medicine might have dulled the pain. But really, I don’t know.
In days to come, I hope that the sound of his breathing will fade. That I will be glad we stopped. To have given life a chance. Glad that he was truly seen, even in the raw devastation of those final hours. And though I’m nervous of doing so, I hope, by writing this, you might see him too…