I've always wanted a bunny. Always, always. When I was little, I wore my bunny suit for Halloween after Halloween. I signed my name "Marilyn Bunny." I drew bunnies all over my notebooks and binders at school. I thought I WAS a bunny. As an adult, I have learned to stifle this obsessive bunny-loving. Sort of. But I still love them so much!
Once when I was about 10 or 12, my friends got together to buy me a bunny for my birthday. They got permission from my mom. Then the permission was retracted. Tears were shed, mine and theirs. We blamed my mom (though it was probably my dad's doing?) for shattering all my bunny dreams. She told me I could get a bunny when I grew up and had my own house, but when I grew up and had my own house, I suddenly understood. It seemed like a lot of hard work to have a bunny. I thought I would probably just always have to love them from afar.
Then, on Christmas, I unwrapped this:
"Perfect size for your rabbit," it says. Which is odd, as I don't have a rabbit.
Make that didn't have a rabbit.
Sam, bless him, knew the deepest desire of my heart. He did the research and the information-gathering and the shopping around, all the things that were too daunting for me to have ever undertaken them. And the next day, we set out to get my bunny. We had several appointments to look at bunnies and choose the right one.
I knew him as soon as I met him. He is the little brown one on the end, snuggled up with his furry black brothers. They're just 7 weeks old. He hopped out of his box and I picked him up. Does it sound silly to say I loved him immediately?
I still don't know how to take care of a bunny---I am trying to learn all I can. Sam keeps having to talk me down from the "what-if-we-can't-make-him-happy??" ledge. Sam promises we will make sure every bunny need of his little bunny nature is attended to. I worry because there are so many, so many of us, and I don't want to traumatize the poor thing. But I have taken a cue from Seb's first-grade teacher and told the children that we all have to be extra quiet and sweet to each other, so as not to scare the bunny. We'll see if that works.
I'm much more nervous about doing the right things for him than I was about my babies. With my babies, I counted on my mother's instinct and my child development classes to steer me the right way. But I don't have instincts on what to do with a bunny! Except snuggle him, of course. I told Sam maybe if it was my sixth bunny I would finally start to feel like I was getting the hang of things.
But he is the sweetest, brightest, softest, tiniest little bunny you can imagine. He's perfect. Will you believe me when I say I have already deleted about 20 pictures of him from this post? I just can't get enough of his little furry face, and the way he hops, and the way he washes his face. My OWN bunny! I can hardly believe it.
We have considered many, many names and I think we've finally settled on Nutmeg. He is just the color and shape of a little nutmeg ball. Furrier, of course.
I really love him. I'm so happy with my Christmas present.
I hope I prove to be a good pet owner!