Sherman the Bunny—And the Lesson My Wife Didn’t Know She Needed

Title: Sherman the Bunny — And the Lesson My Wife Didn’t Know She Needed

This post isn’t about AI, or content creation, or strategy.

This is about a baby bunny named Sherman who didn’t make it.

My wife found her — abandoned, injured, three days old, next to her half-eaten siblings. She’d already been attacked, probably by a cat. It was 8pm. Cold. She was breathing, but barely.

Now, I grew up out on acres. Country life. I’ve tried to save plenty of animals — birds with broken wings, lost turtles — and I’ve watched a lot of them die. Not because I didn’t try. Just because that’s how nature is sometimes.

But my wife didn’t grow up like that. She’s a “give you the shirt off her back” type. The kind of heart that thinks she can save anyone — anything — even me. So when she said, “We have to help it,” I didn’t argue.

I let her try.

Because part of me knew — maybe she needed to learn the same thing I did when I was 12, trying to save a dying robin. That good intentions don’t always equal good outcomes.

We brought Sherman home. We researched — AI, Google, rabbit forums, whatever could help. We got kitten formula. We gave her warmth. My wife wrapped her in one of her favorite hoodies and stayed up all night.

Sherman never ate. She moved a little, but it got worse.

We figured out she likely had pneumonia from being outside too long. Alone. Cold. No mom to protect her.

And yeah — I’ll admit it — for a second, the creator part of me thought, “If this bunny survives… if AI helps us save her… this would go viral.”

But here’s the question that haunted me:

If there was no YouTube channel… would I have tried to save her?

If it wasn’t for my wife?

Honestly? I don’t know.

Sherman passed quietly, in a soft bed, warm, safe, and loved — not alone in the cold. We buried her by a tree at the bottom of our neighborhood. My wife thanked her out loud.

She didn’t say for what, and I didn’t ask. That was between her and God.

But I saw it on her face:

She learned what I learned as a boy. That doing the right thing hurts sometimes. That trying to help doesn’t always end in a win. That sacrifice is real.

I’m not trying to preach or give a moral.

I’m just saying this: If it wasn’t for my wife’s heart, Sherman would have died in the dirt.

Instead, she passed surrounded by love.

And sometimes, that’s enough.