Lazarus: Three Days That Changed Everything
On Monday, Lazarus arrived quietly, carried in for what was believed to be a simple eye infection. We reached into his carrier expecting to offer comfort, but the moment our hands touched his body, comfort turned into heartbreak.
Fleas moved across his back.
Mites clung to his irritated skin.
His eyes and nose were wet with white discharge.
His genitals were swollen and sealed in by those mats.
His eye was infected.
His breathing was thick and congested.
One of his feet dragged behind him like his body was too tired to lift it.
And yet, when we touched him, he pressed his little head gently into our hands. He asked for love before he asked for anything else. That moment will stay with us forever.
He received flea medication that evening. As he scratched, he let out a tiny cry. Rabbits are almost silent creatures, so that one soft sound broke something inside of us. It told us how much he had endured. It told us why he needed us. It told us we had named him correctly.
We named him Lazarus because he deserved a rise.
A beginning.
A chance.
Tuesday: Another Layer of Truth
Tuesday showed us how much weight Lazarus had been carrying. Our founder and wellness coordinator spent hours gently removing the mats that covered almost his entire body. As the fur came off, so did the veil hiding the truth.
Lazarus has mange.
He has ear mites.
He had a significant flea load.
His skin was so itchy that he tried to dig into himself for a moment of relief. His scent glands were sealed shut. His genital area was swollen and painful. Each inch of shaved fur uncovered another piece of the discomfort he had been trying to bear.
But as the clippers moved, something else happened. Whenever someone reached toward him, he lifted his head to meet their hands. He leaned in. He craved touch. Even after everything, he chose connection over fear.
When the heavy mats finally fell away, Lazarus stood taller. He drank water with an urgency that felt like relief. He moved his feet more freely. He took his Critical Care gently from a syringe, as if he knew it was meant to help him.
He began nebulizer treatments to ease his congested breathing. He started medication to help his body heal. He curled up in the warm room we set for him and rested in a softness he may never have known before.
That night, he did not look as lost.
He looked like a bunny learning what safety feels like.
Wednesday: Miracles in Small Shapes
Today is Wednesday, and the day began with fear. Lazarus had diarrhea in the morning, something we never take lightly with a fragile rabbit. We stayed close. We kept him hydrated. We carried him through the hours with gentle hands and a quiet hope.
And then, in the evening, Lazarus gave us something so small and so powerful that it brought us all to tears.
A cluster of tiny, perfectly round poops.
They were humble. Ordinary. Easy to overlook.
But for Lazarus, they were a miracle.
They meant his gut was stabilizing.
They meant his body was responding.
They meant he was choosing to fight for his life.
He also nibbled lettuce. He took more Critical Care. Eating is still a challenge for him because he is so congested, but he tries anyway. He leans forward. He breathes as best he can. He chooses to keep living in these tiny, brave moments.
At his appointment today, Dr. Morales examined him with tenderness and care. She looked at his little shaved body, his swollen skin, his tired eyes, and then she said something that filled the room with hope.
She said he is a strong bunny.
Lazarus explored the room this evening, taking slow, soft steps that felt like a promise. His eyes looked brighter. His posture looked lighter. He looked like a bunny who, for the first time in a long time, felt warm, safe and held.
Friends For Life provided an incubator for him, keeping his temperature steady and giving him the warmth his fragile body needs. That warmth is not just physical. It is symbolic of the love surrounding him now.
He is not out of the woods, but he is no longer wandering them alone.
Lazarus is fighting with every bit of strength he has left, and we are holding him through every moment. He is almost five years old, but his story is just beginning. This is his rise. This is his second chance. This is the moment he learns what it feels like to be loved without condition.
We will continue to share his journey as he heals.
If Lazarus has touched your heart, you can help him and rabbits like him by donating or becoming a foster. Your kindness can give another rabbit the same chance at comfort, safety and love that Lazarus is finally experiencing.
More updates to come.