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Leo, a grey Rex rabbit, sitting tall on a blue blanket in the room he shared with his person, his whiskers catching the light

Leo

Forever part of home.

Grey Rex rabbit · 7 years, 7 months

Passed August 26, 2026, at 4:25 PM

“He would choose head rubs over almost anything.”

Leo had seven years of life: thousands of photographs, repeated routines, favorite places, irritating habits, funny poses, and a relationship built from ordinary days. His final two days matter deeply, but they do not get to swallow the rest. Most of this page is Leo living: resting, eating, hiding, investigating, sitting beside the computer, accepting head rubs, and simply existing in the room that became his world.

Who Leo was

Leo was a gentle grey Rex rabbit with silky-smooth fur. He was timid and easily scared, lazy when he wanted to be, and wonderfully active when the mood took him. When he was younger, he would jump onto things he probably had no business climbing and sometimes tumble back down.

He went crazy for blueberries. But affection could outrank even food: Leo loved head rubs so much that he would sometimes stop eating just to receive them. During those rubs he would softly grind his teeth, making the quiet sound and vibration often called a rabbit's tooth purr.

He could also be a determined little pain in the ass. Catching him for nail trims or veterinary appointments meant working for it. The timid rabbit suddenly became very talented at avoiding capture.

The little rituals

  • When I walked into the room, Leo would go to his corner and look at me for pets.
  • When I sat in my gaming chair, he would come down to the floor and sleep near my legs.
  • If I got up and moved to my bed, Leo would follow me.
  • When I rubbed his head, I could hear his teeth softly grinding and feel the vibrations beneath my hand.

For seven years, my small room was also Leo's home. He was my rabbit, my baby, and my son.

Leo sitting upright on a leaf-patterned blanket, ears tall, looking into the camera
One frame from thousands of ordinary days together.

Leo's photo album

This album intentionally preserves repetition. Similar sleeping positions, familiar blankets, repeated corners and multiple portraits are valuable because they document routines, not isolated moments. Most of these are Leo simply existing in the room that became his world, which is exactly the point.

Leo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days togetherLeo in the room he shared with his person, one frame from thousands of ordinary days together

Leo's final two days

Aug 25, 2:00 AM
I noticed that something was wrong with Leo.
4:00 AM
I called the emergency animal hospital. After describing what I was seeing, I was advised to make a veterinary appointment.
4:00 PM
Leo was examined by a veterinarian. He received pain medication, and we went home while waiting for bloodwork.
7:00 PM
He looked worse. I did not keep waiting. I rushed him to the emergency hospital, where he was admitted overnight.
Aug 26, 1:00 PM
The veterinarian emailed that Leo was looking lively and drinking water, although he still was not eating.
4:00 PM
The hospital called and told me to get there as soon as possible. I immediately started trying to reach him.
4:25 PM
While I was stuck in traffic and called the hospital on the way, I learned that Leo had passed away.
5:10 PM
I arrived and held Leo one last time.

The things I regret

I regret not taking Leo directly to the emergency hospital at 2:00 or 4:00 that morning. I regret every time he looked for pets and I did not stop what I was doing. I regret that I was not beside him at 4:25 PM.

Those regrets are part of my grief, and I do not have to pretend they do not exist. But they are not the whole record. At 4:00 AM I sought emergency veterinary advice. At 4:00 PM he was examined and treated. When he worsened only hours later, I recognized it and rushed him to emergency care. On his final afternoon, even the hospital reported that he looked lively and was drinking; his deterioration was frighteningly fast. When they called at 4:00 PM, I was trying to get to him.

I wish I had been there for his final minutes. But Leo's relationship with me was not made from his final 25 minutes. It was made from seven years of recognizing me, seeking me out, following me, resting beside me, and asking me to touch his head.

What I know about our bond

Leo repeatedly chose to come near me. This timid prey animal slept beside my legs, followed me when I moved across the room, went to his corner when I entered because he expected affection, and relaxed under my hand. Whatever I wish I had done differently, those were choices Leo made throughout his life.

A close view of Leo looking up, his dark eye, pale whiskers and dense grey Rex coat in soft focus
His dark eye, his whiskers, his impossibly soft coat.

What comes home with Leo

I asked the hospital to save some of Leo's silky fur. That was not strange; it was a way of keeping something physical from a body I had touched and loved for seven years. His ashes, his paw print, a clipping of his silky grey Rex fur, thousands of photographs and videos, and these written memories all stay with me.

Things I never want to forget

  • Blueberries made him go crazy.
  • His fur was unbelievably silky and smooth.
  • He was gentle, timid, lazy, active, stubborn, and sometimes ridiculous.
  • Young Leo tried to jump onto everything, even when gravity had other plans.
  • He made nail trims and vet visits into a chase.
  • He would stop eating for head rubs.
  • His little tooth-purr could be heard and felt beneath my fingers.
  • He waited in his corner when I came into the room.
  • He slept near my legs while I was at my gaming chair.
  • When I moved to my bed, he followed me.
  • He was my son and my baby.

A letter to Leo

Leo, I wish I had known how little time was left. I would have given you every head rub you ever asked for. I am sorry for the times you looked for me and I did not stop. I am sorry I did not understand at two in the morning how serious things would become. I am sorry traffic kept me from reaching you before 4:25.

But I also remember the life before those hours. I remember your blueberries, your impossible softness, your little teeth vibrating beneath my fingers, your stubborn escapes, your blanket caves, your ridiculous jumps, your hay, and the place you chose beside me. I remember that when I moved across the room, you followed. I remember that when I entered, you knew me and went to your corner for affection.

I wanted you to live forever because I never learned how to imagine the room without you. I cannot change the hours I regret. I can keep telling the truth about the years we had.

You were here. You were loved. You were my family. I will carry you with me.

Leo

Not only the rabbit who died on August 26, 2026, but the rabbit who lived beside me for seven years. Forever part of home.

If you'd like to talk to your vet about what happened, they're there to help.