Do you know what an anti-suicide cat is, Juno? Of course you don't, for you are just a rabbit, and mere concept of suicide has never crossed your mind, nor do you know what a cat is.

There are few things that make me hyper aware of how small your world is:
Taking you outside and watching you try to comprehend the vastness of the sky above.
Bringing home a new treat to try and watching your head bob as you approach it in cautious curiosity.
Oblivious to all the other animals out there in the world, until we bring a new one home in a cardboard box.

My world was small when I first got you too, do you remember?
You watched me hide in my room all day, as a prey animal like you, I’d naturally be scared of predators.
You watched my days grow monotonous, how days should be, you’d assume. Same pellets, day by day, only getting up for the bare minimum. I didn’t find this as happy as you, and you never knew why.
You watched me move with fear in my eyes, “there’s hawks circling overhead,” I’d say unable to breathe. That vigilance made sense to you, afterall, I was the one in charge if something did go wrong, even if hawks aren’t people sized.

But how lucky are you? As my world grew, so did yours.
How lucky are you that you have a safe place to flop and sleep while I spend my days petting you with my foot. My hands are busy doing something, you’re not sure what, but it looks compelling. I’ve been there for hours after all.
How lucky are you that you hear my laughter echo through the house, my songs bouncing off the walls. Those big ears are finally good for something, as this is no longer a silent house.
How lucky are you, that every time I leave I give you a kiss on the forehead and say “I’ll be back in blah-blah-blah,” not that it matters much, you don’t know numbers.

As my world continues to grow I promise I will never leave you behind. No matter what, there will be a bagel made every night, and I’ll wait for you to come down the stairs and join me while the toaster ticks down. No matter what I’ll be there to give you kisses in the morning and salad at night.

Thank you, my bunny, for giving me room to grow, and change for the better. Please don’t learn what the word suicide means, it no longer serves a purpose in your vocabulary, because that word doesn’t apply to me anymore.

Poetry For Pets

2026 Valentine's Zine by the NIGHTCORNER