A Bunny Named Mulberry: Why I Spent My Holiday Driving a Wounded Bunny 100km

adoption bunny canada day charity compassion donation gananoque humane society gdhs cats ontario rescue ronnie sandy pines wildlife center wildlife Jul 02, 2025

You know those days where everything just spirals into chaos, and by the end you’re not even sure if you're emotionally exhausted or just running on adrenaline? Yeah. That was was Canada Day.

It started out like any other peaceful morning, just me, my husband Dan, and our usual routine of taking the cats outside for their little morning fresh air and adventure. Jack, our newest adopted kitty from the Gananoque District Humane Society, our sweet and curious boy, was having a moment with a huge frog he found. He kept inching toward it, trying to sniff or poke it with a paw, but then leaping back every time the frog moved. Adorable. Classic Jack.

But then, chaos erupted.

I suddenly hear a commotion; full-on kerfuffle in the garden. Ronnie, our big panther cat who we adopted in November 2024, is barreling across the yard, followed by Niobe and Griffin, and Jack dashes over like lightning to join the chase. In the middle of this frenzy, Ronnie proudly catches something and holds it high. At first I think it’s a mouse (they catch them often), but this thing is big. Like… too big. Maybe a squirrel?

Dan looks closer and goes, “That’s a bunny.”

My stomach dropped.

I ran over, trying to get Ronnie to let the poor thing go, but he darted away with it. Dan finally managed to distract him after he set it down, but every time the bunny tried to run, Ronnie chased and caught it again. We went through this agonizing loop a few times before I finally wrangled Ronnie into the house.

An hour later, I went to check. The bunny was lying there, unmoved. My heart ached. I gently picked him up—his back legs kicked a little, but his upper body wasn’t responding. I placed him somewhere safe, on a soft patch of ground cover surrounded by little purple flowers. I left a few drops of water on his paw and some honeysuckle nearby. I pet him gently, hoping to bring him a sense of safety and peace.

A few hours later, he was still there. Still unmoving, but he had eaten the honeysuckle. That tiny detail gave me hope. I lifted him again, checked him over, and saw what I had feared: bite marks from Ronnie. That meant possible infection. Cat saliva is deadly to small animals if not treated quickly.

I started searching online for wildlife rescues, thinking, It’s Canada Day. Who's even open? Shockingly, Sandy Pines Wildlife Centre in Napanee was open until 7:30 p.m. There aren’t many wildlife rescues around here—the next closest is hours away—so this felt like a lifeline.

My husband wasn't sure that this was a good idea, but I couldn’t ignore this. I couldn’t let the bunny suffer if there was a chance to help. Or at the very least, give him a peaceful end in care. Dan accused me of "speciesism"—that we let the cats kill mice, but I was intervening for a bunny. Maybe he’s right. But I still believe every creature deserves compassion, even the smallest ones. Frankly, I hate seeing the cats kill mice, however, when we have too many mice, living in the country, they get in the house, and mouse traps are no kinder of an end for them.

So I packed the bunny—who I named Mulberry—into a crate, got in the car, and plugged in the GPS. And what do I see? Major accident on the 401 freeway. What should’ve been a 1 hr 10 min drive turned into a 2+ hour mess.

I pivoted. Took Highway 2. All was going smoothly until Gananoque when the GPS rerouted me back onto the 401, saying it was clear. Lies. Total gridlock. We crawled along for 45 minutes at a snail’s pace. But the whole time, I kept talking to Mulberry, telling him about the wonderful life waiting for him. That he’d get better. That he was safe.

After a grueling 2 hour and 10 minute drive, we finally pulled into Sandy Pines at 6:30 p.m.

The people there? Absolutely lovely. I filled out an intake form, handed them Mulberry, and they gave me a case number so I could check in on his progress.

Driving home, I had all the feels. Did I do the right thing? Should I have intervened earlier? Did I only prolong his suffering? Should I have just let Ronnie end it that morning? My head spun with guilt and what-ifs.

But deep down, I know this: I did what I could. I showed up. I chose compassion. Whether Mulberry makes it or not, he was loved, he was seen, and he didn’t die alone in the grass. That matters.

So yeah. That was my day. Highs, lows, questions I don’t have answers to. But also… a little bit of hope, wrapped in honeysuckle.

Learn More about Sandy Pines Wildlife Center & Donate: https://sandypineswildlife.org/

Learn More about the Gananoque District Humane Society & Donate: https://www.ganhumanesociety.ca/

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A Bunny Named Mulberry: Why I Spent My Holiday Driving a Wounded Bunny 100km

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