Some people might remember that I’m an Easter Bunny – that is to say, I was given as an Easter gift and then abandoned and rescued shortly after by my mom.
Around Easter time, I always think about other bunnies who might not be as lucky as I was – and I was very lucky.
I like to remind people who might think that they need to get a rabbit just because it’s Easter that getting a real, live rabbit is a lot more responsibility than I think most people are ready for.
I know my dad wasn’t ready for the responsibility of having a rabbit in his house when my mom found me wandering around the parking lot of their house, way back then. But my mom and dad were always “animal” people who took good care of their animal family, so they rose to the challenge of:
Making their house safe for a bunny who likes to chew EVERYTHING
I realize that taking care of me (and Betsy) is a big job – a full-time job, if dad is to be believed. So it’s not for everyone.
If you’re thinking of getting a bunny for Easter – or for any reason – you might want to think twice about it. You can see by all of the other stuff here on my blog that it’s a lot of work to keep up with a bunny!
But if you think you’re up to the challenge (and it is a challenge – though the rewards can be good too), might I recommend adopting rather than buying? So many of my cousins and more distant relatives live tough lives, being abandoned after Easter time, or just given up because they’re not small and cute babies anymore, that they really need a loving home like my mom and dad gave me. If you can give a bunny a similar home, please adopt one of my bretheren – I’m sure there’s a shelter near you somewhere. (The House Rabbit Society can probably help you find one if you don’t know where one might be.) Oh and be sure to spay or neuter your rabbit so you don’t contribute to the overpopulation problem!
Remember, not all Easter bunnies are as lucky as I am – but maybe if you’ve got a big heart (and a big home!), you can help another Easter bunny get lucky and find a great home.
Dad came back from the store last night and told me how he saw they had taken down all their valentine’s day stuff and were starting to put up their Easter stuff.
Easter always makes me think even more about all the other bunnies out there who aren’t as lucky as I am (oh and Betsy, too). I don’t like the idea of a holiday that encourages people to buy an animal that they probably aren’t prepared to take care of properly. Bunnies are not throw-away pets!!!
Though on the good side, I have seen an awful lot of other pink-eyed white rabbits out there like me lately:
Every Easter I try (with dad’s help) to let as many people as I can know about the sad stories of “Easter bunnies.” I’m entitled to speak on this because I was an Easter bunny myself.
Long story short, I was bought for some kids for Easter, and they didn’t really know how to take care of me, so they were very rough to me and eventually left me outside when they got bored with me. I don’t think they wanted me anymore.
Luckily, my mom saw them and came and picked me up and took me inside and made arrangements for me to stay with her & dad from now on. And I am very much grateful for what she did.
But the fact is, there are lots of other bunnies out there right now who are being given as “gifts” for Easter, to people who don’t know how to care for them, or to people who won’t care for them once the novelty wears off (though how that could happen with a rabbit still baffles me).
So, as I always do on Easter, I just want to remind everyone that a rabbit is not a toy, not a gift, but a real live animal, the same as any other pet – if not more so, because we’re not like cats and dogs who are predators and can take care of themselves to a certain extent – we’re rabbits, a prey species, and we can be fragile at times, so we depend on our human mums & dads to look after us. We also live quite a long time (depending on the breed and whether we’ve been de-sexed) – figure about 10 years, give or take. We don’t do well in small cages (despite lots of pictures and pet store advertising to the contrary) and we don’t just eat carrots (cartoons aside – although carrots are a nice side dish).
Hopefully this message reaches someone and makes a difference somewhere. Now if you all don’t mind, I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go lie in a sunbeam and reflect on how lucky Betsy and I are to have such a nice home. And to all the buns out there – may you all find homes as nice yourselves.
Well, another Easter has come and gone (mostly). It’s been an uneventful day for me – I spent most of the day under the bed with Besty. It’s so nice and warm under here – it’s the best place to spend the middle of the day.
I said I was going to tell the story of how I came to live here, and I figured this would be the right time for it, since it was around this time of year that it all happened (about 2 years ago now).
I was an Easter bunny – a gift for some kids at Easter time. About a week after Easter, these kids were giving me a very hard time. They were playing in a parking lot beside my current home, throwing me up in the air and spinning me around in circles by holding onto my legs. I was absolutely terrified.
My mom saw what the kids were doing to me from her porch. Then the kids were called back to their house, or they got bored – I don’t really remember. They left me there, in the parking lot, on the hard ground. I was dizzy and confused, so I hopped away, trying to find a place to hide. I heard my mom come down, but she didn’t see me. A little while later, I hopped back out in the open, wondering if I was going to be left outside forever. That’s when my mom came down again and picked me up.
She raced back upstairs with me, and put me in the bathroom to start with – it was the only “bunny-proof” room in the house at the time. I heard her on the phone, calling people, asking what she should do. She said the kids had mistreated me, and wanted to make sure I had a good home. Her voice was very nice, and she had an accent that I’d never heard before. I wasn’t too scared now – the bathroom floor was slippery, but it was a safe place, I could tell. Nobody would get me in there, and that felt good, because I was still a bit shaken up by all this. And also, the bathroom, small as it was, was much lager than the cage I had been kept in.
My mom didn’t know what to do, and she had to go to work the next day. She left me a carrot and a little bit of greens – all that she had in the house, as I later learned. I spent my first day alone in the bathroom, but it wasn’t too bad. The cool tile was nice on my sore feet.
That night, my mom came home and was very happy to see me. She built me a little house out of stuff she had lying around, and she had bought some hay, pellets, and lettuce on the way home. I enjoyed my first “real” dinner. I didn’t mind her at all, and I liked the smell and look of the house.
I spent a few days in that makeshift cage, until my dad got home. He had been away on vacation with some friends for a few days, and he was surprised to find me in his house! I didn’t mind him at all, either – his voice was very friendly. He told me about the guinea pigs he used to live with, and the next day he and my mom came home with a spare guinea pig cage, which they put me in, along with some nice soft bedding. I was still very small, so it wasn’t too cramped. I was enjoying the food they were giving me (fresh greens), and it was nice to not be picked up all the time.
The nicest bit, though, was that they let me out of my cage all the time – so I got to roam around the house and explore things. They reassured me that I would be happy here, and they gave me all kinds of attention. It was very nice. Later on, they got a bigger cage for me, and only put me in it late at night and during the day – when I would normally sleep, anyway. They let me out in the morning and in the evening to romp around with them. (I quickly learned that the couch was quite cool as well, and fun to jump on!)
Eventually they gave up on the cage and just gave me a litter box, so I spent my time lounging on the floor with them. Needless to say, I was very happy to be living with them. They were very good to me. I can remember the first summer we were together, it began to get very warm, and my mom and dad rushed out on the very first “hot” day and bought 2 new air conditioners so that I wouldn’t overheat. They didn’t really need them for themselves, as they had an old one for the bedroom, but they knew that I would get too hot in the living room during the day, and if the bedroom door was to be left open for me, they would need to cool both rooms. I later came to understand that what they did cost them a lot of “money,” which I guess is a big deal for humans.
Later on, they brought Betsy to our house, and after we got introduced, they had the both of us “fixed.” I guess that time I peed on my dad’s head while he was in bed didn’t go over to well with them! (In my defense, he was rather late in getting up to feed me.)
Since then, I’ve never had to worry about anything. My mom and dad keep me well fed, and I have the whole house to explore – although I hardly ever go beyond the bedroom and the living room. (The kitchen smells funny, and I prefer carpeted floors over the tile of the bathroom.)
I am writing this story down and sharing it with you because I know that somewhere out there today, another rabbit – actually, probably many rabbits – are going through something similar to what I went through. If you’re reading this, I hope you will be more like my mom and dad, and take care of a rabbit like they did, instead of being like those kids who were rough to me. Easter is a tough time for us rabbits – no matter what the commercials on your TV thing say. Maybe if you share this story with someone, and they share it with someone else, enough people will know this story that next Easter, fewer rabbits will go through something like this.