RIP Valentina :'(

Nearly three days ago, Valentina went off feed, water, and completely stopped pooping. After some TLC using the decent amount of veterinary knowledge that I've acquired over the years of raising many species, by the next day, she was drinking on her own and there was a tiny amount of manure in her tray. On day two, she was still drinking and I had finally gotten her to eat hay and 1/6 cup of pellets. She wasn't pooping much in the morning but that evening, she had a nearly healthy amount of manure in her tray. I concluded that it was simply a minor fur blockage and she would be back on track with just a few more days of tender, loving care.
Today, I was happily walking around the barn when I got home, feeding the hungry bunnies when I came to Valentina's cage and quickly concluded that my best doe was in fact, dead. Strewn about her still body were mouthfuls of pulled fur... and no babies. I dropped the feed bucket in my hands and pulled Val out to examine her; ...to confirm my fears.
Her body was not yet cold or stiff, but her eyes were dull and I could see that she was no longer there, clinging to her life. She was with no doubt, gone. I just stared at her, letting that oh, so familiar feeling of loss and a breaking heart creep up on me.
I began examining her trying to find an explanation. I discovered that her vent was bleeding and was frozen with disbelief. This doe wasn't pregnant. Her last due date was exactly two weeks ago and she never kindled. Surely she couldn't have a litter inside after so long without complication? I began palpating and to my astonishment, found a lump that was 3/4 the size of a full-term baby. I continued palpating in search of more but found nothing else.
Still in disbelief, I kept telling myself that it could be a compaction of fur that blocked off her intestine and became solid. But what are the odds? Realistically, the odds are that my doe died because she still had at least one baby inside that she was never able to pass. Ladies and Gentlemen... I give you the Dwarf Hotot.

Today, I learned the truth of the old veterinary saying: "If the patient gets better all of a sudden, it's either a miracle or they are about to die."

For once in my life, I find myself wanting to take a break. This could quite possibly be the biggest loss I have endured yet. This was the best Dwarf Hotot that I have produced in my entire life, even after developing three separate lines over the course of many years. I adored this doe and all of her temper tantrums. She was everything I worked for and the image of my barn; the very image of what I was continually striving for standing before my eyes. Valentina was born in my barn at the time when I needed hope the most. She was taken at the time when I thought my hope had paid off. She was my victory.
As I sit here in an emotionally exhausted blob typing away on my laptop, I haven't quite accepted it yet. I doubt I will. I'm playing the "what if" game. But a part of me is begging myself to forgive, forget, and move on. Breed those does. Pray for something worth half of what she was. Work harder than ever. But then that brings up a new question. Can I work harder? Is what I'm doing right now, still not enough to say that I've earned my "Valentina"? Quite frankly, I feel like I was putting my heart and soul into my rabbits up until these past few hours of contemplation. I'm ready for a break. I'm tired. I'm broke. I'm numb. I'm lost.

And I'm about to perform an autopsy. Will post the results when I'm ready.

In tribute to the most beautiful, stunning vision to pass through my barn. <3 She stayed for such a short time. It wasn't long enough... but it was long enough to last forever. Adieu ma victoire, mon triomphe, mon anglais s'est levé. </3