I lost a pet rabbit I had for eight great years of my life, so I know how you feel. The death of a previous pet in 2003 made me constantly think of the inevitable fate of my rabbit.
I didn't know when the day would come, but expected it and had come to accept it as something I'd have to deal with.
At least until Christmas 2005.
I approached him, he seemed sluggish, so I gave him some oats which always perks him up, but to no avail. Some prodding and I realized something horrible was wrong, I picked him up and tried to make him feel better, but I couldn't. I called my parents so they could be there to see what was going on. That's when it started to sink in. He struggled and kicked, made his very first noise with his vocal chords, a horrible cry. He kicked and kicked until he was just laying there, motionless and staring at us.
On Christmas he died. And the next day I put his stiff motionless corpse into a box and we buried him right under where he died. While I never cried (like I said constant thinking of his mortality before he even looked like he was going to die prepared me for this), it affected me deeply. I barely go outside to the area where he used to live, not because I can't or won't realize the fact that he's dead, but I just don't have any reason to be there any more.
It's the first time I ever say someone I cared about die right in front of me. It was both the most horrifing and beautiful thing I have ever seen; a liberation from life, but the end of a great connection. Even today when I see a rabbit, it tugs at me, knowing that the one I cared about the most is gone. The one constant all the years I lived at my current home was gone and it scared me how easily I transitioned away from him.
I know what losing a friend is like, sometimes the loss can (and was in this case), worse than the loss of anyone else you've lost before.
March 3, 1997 - December 25, 2005
Goodbye, not forever, but for a very long time...
Jam it back in, in the dark.