Pluk the Rabbit – A Story of Love, Loss, and Second Chances
For many years, my two rabbits, Zaza and Pluk, lived happily in my garden after I adopted them from an animal shelter. Pluk — named by the shelter for his scruffy fur and feisty nature, the result of tussles with other rabbits — was truly one of a kind. His first encounter with Zaza wasn’t exactly peaceful: they fought fiercely. But gradually, a deep bond formed between them, and they became inseparable.
Pluk turned out to be a true escape artist. Time and again, he’d sneak out of the garden, only to return, proudly waiting for us to let him back into the hutch with Zaza. His tricks were as frustrating as they were funny. One rainy day, we found him sitting soaked on top of his hutch, calmly waiting to be let in. That’s when I realized just how clever and determined rabbits can be.
By late 2015, both rabbits were showing signs of aging. Mot long after Zaza passed away from cancer, and Pluk required urgent dental surgery. The vet warned me he wouldn’t survive the cold winter outside, so I brought him inside to recover.
But Pluk wasn’t himself. He didn’t eat, barely moved, and I began to doubt whether he would pull through. One day, as he refused to touch his food again, I gave him a serious talk: "Pluk, you have two options: Either stop eating and be with Zaza, or choose to live a new life indoors here with me." He looked at me — and to my amazement, he walked over to his dish and began nibbling on his grated carrots. He had made his choice.
From then on, Pluk became an indoor bunny. He hopped around the living room while I worked from home as an illustrator. He chewed through countless power cords, shoes, and cushions, and even befriended the plush head of a faux polar bear rug. Despite all his quirks, it was a joy having him around — even if he wasn’t exactly the cuddly type.
In 2016, after yet another dental procedure, Pluk broke one of his paws. He still wouldn’t eat, and the vet recommended euthanasia. We made an appointment, but just as we were about to leave, my friend Willem pulled his back out and we had to cancel. I secretly felt a bit relieved. The next morning, to our surprise, Pluk was eating again. He made a miraculous recovery.
But in the summer of 2017, his health declined rapidly once more. He became fragile, and another paw broke due to severe osteoporosis. This time, when he looked at me, I knew it was time. Saying goodbye was heartbreaking, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
After Pluk was peacefully put to sleep, we planned to bury him in a quiet park near my parents’ home. They were away on holiday, and the house was completely still. As we were getting ready, the stereo suddenly turned on by itself and started playing a CD — right in the middle of Bryan Adams’ ‘Heaven’:
"When you're lyin' here in my arms
I'm findin' it hard to believe
We're in heaven..."
It was the kind of moment I will never forget. It’s hard to say whether it was just a coincidence — or something more. But at that moment, it felt as if Pluk had come to say goodbye one last time.
A year later, I wrote Pluk’s story to find closure and sent it to the American magazine Guideposts, where I worked as an illustrator. To my surprise, they published it — not just as a one-off, but as part of a new feature called ‘Last Moments’. I was also invited to illustrate that feature. Pluk’s legacy now lives on in the story that touched so many readers, in the watercolor I painted of him for the article, and on every cable he ever left his tiny bite marks.
