Would anybody like to share a story of something dead becoming alive again?
That could be economic (business exiting liquidation), a personal story, technology (old computers being repaired), scientific... surprise us! :-)
I stopped hunting those rabbits and would just watch him through binoculars. He even hopped differently, with a weird leg twitch that was similar to the way that my cat would kick his back legs when he would start to run.
I want to say that of course my dead cat could never become a rabbit, but it was eerie. I enjoyed watching him for the remaining year that we lived there, and he sired a whole wave of charcoal rabbits.
You can add my own faith to the list of things God has revived :)
After a month in and out of hospitals, the vets said there was nothing more they could do and that I had to put him down. I didn't want him to die in the hospital, so they let me take him home under the strict condition that I had a home vet scheduled to put him to sleep no more than 24 hours later.
On the way back with him on the train, an older woman sat next to me and asked me what was wrong. I told her, and she asked if it was OK to touch him. She reached into the carrier and stroked his head for a while. We ended up getting off at the same stop. As we were going our separate ways, she said "It's up to him now. Just take that cone off when you get home."
He had a large plastic cone on his head from his last (seemingly failed) surgery. I took it off when we got to the apartment and spent the night just petting him, keeping him comfortable, watching to make sure he didn't rip out his stitches, and preparing for him to not be there anymore. I tried really hard to stay happy and not cry because I knew he'd sense it, but I'm pretty sure he sensed how distraught I was anyway. He was alive, but everything seemed so certain that to me it was more like he was closer to not here than here. I guess the whole month I just couldn't fathom _something_ not working to make him better, but that night it suddenly hit and all at once it was as if he was already gone.
The next morning, a couple of hours before the vet was due to come and put him to sleep, as a last ditch effort I put him into his litter box. And for the first time in an entire month, he peed on his own. I actually could not believe it until I scooped up the pee clumps and was staring at them. The vets said nothing worked, and that there was no way he'd live, but he just squatted and peed.
I was so scared and loopy at that point that I actually _kept_ the pee clumps as proof in case the vets would not believe me (you know, sometimes owners just can't let their pet go and vets get concerned that the pet is suffering at home). In fact, the vets _didn't_ believe me and had me take him to the nearest animal hospital to get an ultrasound so that they can get proof that his bladder was not full. I went in there with the cat and a bag of pee clumps as evidence.
That was not the end of the ordeal - it took months (if not over a year...the whole time period is a blur) of medication, vets, and pee training for his bladder to regain its function. But that night/morning to me has always felt like someone that was as good as gone came back to life.