I love Sabar. Unconditionally. And I don’t care even if it’s truly unnecessary to declare it to the other residents of Earth. See how funny love makes us become? Careful and careless just at the same time.
Now, about Sabar, he’s more than 3 years old. I would be real happy if someone told me he/she had seen an older rabbit. Especially one that behaves more like a puppy than a rabbit.
So why do I love him so much? Hhh… why bother answering?
Anyways, for us a.k.a Dad, my brother and me, Sabar is one helluva…n entertainer. He’ll follow us everywhere in the house. Sometimes he’ll lay down somewhere, but when he hears us opening a cookies jar, he’ll run instantly towards us as if it was the run for life. Don’t get him wrong. He won’t come close if you call his name. Apparently, he’s too lazy to maximize the use of his long ears to hear. They’re more used as ‘food detector.’
One day, Roro, his wife (seriously?) died, for an unknown cause. As some of you may have known, I don’t live in my parents’ house anymore. So I went there, with expectation that her cage is empty already. And when I got there, I was stunned. Sabar’s cage was empty too! No, no, not him too!
My cousin who lives there, as if she knew what’s on my mind, said,”He’s dead too.”
Me : You’d better be joking… (…or I won’t be joking pulling your hair, girl.)
So I frantically asked Mom where Sabar was. Tears were just ready to fall. Couldn’t even try to think logically.
Mom : You’re not gonna find him. He died.
Me : Because!
Brother : (Answering from upstairs, this eagerness should’ve made me suspicious.) Because he’s sick.
Me : Ma! You said Roro died. You didn’t mention about Sabar! Has he been buried already? (I’m sorry, Ma, for screaming. But you guys were so wicked.)
Brother : We gave his dead body to the bird seller to bury him.
Me : So I won’t be able to see him ever again??!! (Bye bye logic…)
Brother : Of course not.
He can’t be serious! He loves Sabar so much as well. He’s crazy about Sabar he even proposed him to marry him (whadda…?) before we found out Sabar’s ‘thingy’ down there. He can’t be this cold about Sabar’s going away. So the probability of him being serious was… I ran upstairs to my Dad’s work desk. Sabar would normally lay near Dad’s feet. I was still crying dramatically, horrified by the thought that I wouldn’t find my puppy (read: wabbit) there.Yep, there he was. Laying alive and pretty. And my brother didn’t look pretty good when I presented him punches. Eat that, fatso! Hate you, hate you, hate you! (Love you… pssst.)
Sabar, mi Sabar… have you seen how love makes me become?
