An ode to Dolly

It’s been a pretty rough week here at the homestead. I woke up on Friday to find my adorable Angora rabbit, Dolly, dead in her hutch. She was quite old for a rabbit, but it was still completely unexpected.

I dug a grave for her in the front yard, next to our dear cat Moose, while the deer flies buzzed around me and the sweat poured down my face. I buried her quietly and sobbed by her grave. Death has a strange way of making you reflect on the past, and the past 7 years with her reeled through my head like a movie.

Dolly came into my life on a whim. I had been gung-ho about homesteading for years, and wanted to take my skills to the next level. I desperately wanted to get sheep or fiber goats so I could spin their wool, but alas, we lived in the city and that wasn’t going to happen. But, my research told me that Angora rabbits produce wool and are a great alternative to large beasts.

It was barely three days later when I was in the car on my way to pick her up. I had found her on a craigslist ad, and while I was skeptical to buy an animal from an internet stranger, the photos she sent me put me over the edge. I just had to have that little furball.

I met the seller at a thruway stop halfway between my home and hers. She was meeting two other rabbit enthusiasts at the same time, at the same thruway stop. So there we all were, trading rabbits for money on the side of the road as big rigs zipped by and state troopers glared at us.

I paid $40 for my new little friend, tucked her away in a cat carrier on the passenger seat, and was on my way back home.

Dolly spent her first few years living on the sun porch in our city home. The little magician had managed to break free of every cage I used to try to contain her, so I eventually gave up and gave her free rein of the room.

She loved running back and forth in the room, zipping around, jumping on the couch, and launching herself off of it. She was hyper, crazy, and destructive. She later ripped that couch to shreds so she could make a home inside of it for herself.

We moved Dolly to an outdoor hutch shortly after that, where she continued to live when we moved to the country. I found her a moveable fence on Amazon, and set it up in the yard. She spent the last two summers of her life running outside, eating clover, and enjoying the fresh air.

I’m so sad to have to say goodbye to this crazy, fuzzy friend, but I’m glad she had a good life, and she supplied me with epic tons of wool over the years. When I get to the point where I stop tearing up at the thought of her, I’ll spin her wool and use it to knit something beautiful.

Something to remember her by.