Yet another unalterable fact of life. Another sorrow surfacing. There is no avoidance of the inevitability of the approach, the presence, and the final days of life. This incident would not even begin to mark a fraction of a nano-event in the course of life. Yet another of Nature's creatures inexorably departing life.

But of course, for her, the steward of a beloved creature, it is an event heavily weighted with sorrow. An event that no human intervention can in fact delay. Not for that little creature, not for any of nature's organisms. He had simply outlived his natural days. Six years is not bad for a very small rabbit that was born with a myriad of health problems. But six years is a very short time to have enjoyed his presence, she mourned disconsolately during a sleepless night.

She knew, from early that morning that he was in distress. Interested in nothing; certainly not his food. She had on previous occasions fed him through a tube. It was evident that this would only cause him more distress, this time. He was barely breathing, simply sitting there, his companion Hanna, to whom he mostly snuggled closely when they slept, giving him the room he needed to be by himself at this critical time.

By evening his breathing shallower, then still, he was gone. If our spirits rise from out bodies on death, why not a small rabbit's? River's spirit lifted and exited his body. He was at peace, would no longer require those interventions, ministrations, concerns he was so glad to be shed of, so he could return to his pen and be himself.

Hanna has lost her companion.