Rabbit

In her prime, Rabbit was a bunny to behold, a show-stopper if you will. She wore yellow satin slippers, a flowing gown, ribbons on her ears, a satchel in her paw, and Ella could not have loved her more. She was attached to the rabbit from the moment she laid eyes on it. As with most toys who are so dearly loved, rabbit has paid a great price. Her blouse, which fell off in the early days, is shredded beyond repair. All of her accessories are but memories of her better days. Rabbit's skirt is in a treasure box, hidden by Ella, so that neither of her siblings can hurt it. I will attempt to repair the skirt and reattach it to rabbit, but with each procedure, my efforts seem more and more futile. Rabbit is about to undergo her third surgery, a rather simple procedure really--this time to reattach the skirt and an ear. She has previously endured a couple of major procedures: the reattaching of limbs, the reconstructing of extremities, etc. I don't know how much more she can take. This weekend, I found her face down, outside, on a little pallet Ella had made for her. Ella was attempting to air dry rabbit after she had cleaned a bit of chalk from a paw. She knew the rabbit would never survive the burning tumult of the drier. Ella, you are so precious.