The Rabbit Situation

"Who would give me up?"

I found a rabbit in my garage. I had no idea how he got in there or where he came from, that was the least of my concern. What do I do with him? My wife and daughter and I own a parakeet. That’s expensive enough, especially with the unavailability of parakeet seeds (see previous blog) and the cost of keeping it alive in general is too much. But a rabbit living with us? Forget about it. It’d be like a relative with expensive taste moving in permanently. Instead of meat and potatoes they’d want shrimp cocktails and crunchy peanut butter instead of the creamy kind. NO WAY!

I asked a neighbor if the cute bunny was hers. I was cognizant of throwing in words like “cute” and “cuddly” and “adorable” to describe the filthy beast in hopes that my neighbor would take it. She said it wasn’t hers nor was she interested in keeping it as a pet. “Fascist” I spat as I took the fluffy bunny back into my garage.

”Why don’t you take him over the lake?” She said, momentarily forgiving my outburst for the bunny’s sake. She informed me that there was a lake a few blocks from our gated community by a school where a colony of unwanted rabbits thrived without human interference. My mind immediately went into panic mode. What if these creatures decide to band together and attack humans for neglecting them? Eh, I can’t picture rabbits possessing any bitter feelings. I looked into the pink eyes of Mr. Buggles, by this point I named the homeless thing, and stroked the white fur. “Well,” I thought. “At least he’ll be with his own kind.”

So off I jettisoned to the lake. I parked the car and took Mr. Buggles, whom I placed in a box, out and looked for the entrance around the high wire fence. The lake looked unkept and probably contaminated with a medley of pesticides and chemicals. I didn’t see any bunny colony with bunny homes and a thriving bunny community with their own laws. Instead I saw patches of crap floating in dark waters. I finally found the opening, right under a sign that read “NO DUMPING OF ANIMALS. ESPECIALLY RABBITS"

Great. Now what do I do? I can’t let Mr. Buggles out in the school yard, the children will eat him alive. Salvation came in the form of the Fire Station across the street. So I dodged traffic and approached the front door to the small, quaint building. I rang the doorbell and within seconds two Firefighters stood before me. They looked at the box and dread overcame their face. “Hey guys, I’ve got a situation here…” The older one, I’m assuming he was the captain, looked at me and shook his head. “We don’t do bunnies. Maybe around Easter time. Why don’t you throw him into the lake? I heard there’s a thriving colony of bunnies in there?” He closed the door. Not even a sorry. I wish someone had photos or video footage of this thriving colony because I don’t see it.

So now what do I do? The choice became clear. I should have done this from the start. I drove over to the animal shelter. On the way I looked at the reflection of Mr. Buggles' box in my rearview mirror. It was still. “It’ll be fine Mr. Buggles. You’ll find a home real soon, I promise. You’re really cute, and well behaved. This is the best thing for both of us, really.” I parked the car and carried him to this older gentlemen stationed inside a room with the top half of the door opened and the lower half closed. He asked a few questions and later took the box and placed it on a shelf like a piece of unwanted furniture. I said a silent goodbye to Mr. Buggles and fondly recalled our adventure together. Such a waste, I thought. Maybe the economy tanking is a good thing. Maybe people need to start appreciating what they already have instead of wasting on things they can’t afford. I’m pretty certain Mr. Buggles did find a nice home where they don’t eat rabbits. I hope.