After my wonderful husband and I had been married for about a year and a half we decided that three might be better than two. Now, most couples would have immediately began a fun-filled stimulating activity that allows two people to bring a third, albeit much smaller, person into their lives. Not us. We got ourselves a bunny.
We reasoned that if we were capable of keeping a small, helpless, adorable little creature alive, we might be capable of having a child. So we adopted Zoe Washburne (That's her complete geek name. It's Zoe for those who don't live in the Firefly universe.), our Holland Lop, who has the most munchable ears you could imagine. And trust me, I munch on them obsessively!
We consulted the online ads in the local paper and I must have emailed a dozen people over the course of 3 weeks. There seemed to be as many obstacles as there were rabbits. The most common problems were that the babies in the litter weren’t old enough to be away from their mother or the ones available had already found homes.
Finally I found a very nice lady who still had 3 out of 4 sisters available for adoption. Not wanting this opportunity to elude us, though not convinced we would end up with one that night, Jason and I set out. The trip was short and to the point. I only had to see the enormous yet somehow dainty feet on the only Siamese-colored bunny to know that she was meant to be ours. Forget that she had a THOUSAND TIMES more fur that I thought my allergies could handle or that there were two other equally cute bunnies nestled beside her. I held her in my arms and stroked her feet and was utterly twitterpated. When Jason realized I wasn’t going to allow her to be put back in the cage, he kindly paid the nice lady who orchestrated her existence into this world so that I might have a pet.
Then we left - with a bunny.
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