The Easter Bunny

Millions of parents start out with the best of intentions. Every Easter they decide to buy bunnies for their children. Being one of the lunatic parents who have actually purchased a pet for small children on a major holiday, they have my complete sympathy. My journey into pet ownership by children, was larger than a bunny at Easter. I actually bought a dog for my sons at Christmas. I knew I was in trouble when we had to get someone to dog sit to go to Christmas Mass. Oh, well.

I knew what I was getting into. I was not new to dog ownership. I had a dog for twelve years. And I did it anyway. I would do it again if given the choice of do-overs. I did however decide to use my knowledge of pet ownership by small children to enlighten a few of my dear friends. I warned them that they were about to enter the twilight zone. Remember the days of going to the beach when the sun is barely up, and coming home as darkness descends, exhausted children with matted hair, suits filled with beach sand, and a smile sleeping in the back seat. Well, my friend, those days are over. You can’t leave the bunny alone for twelve hours.

These are ordinarily smart people. Respectable people. I’m not sure what happens to people when their children want a pet. I know what happened to me. I became obsessed. Maybe they go back to their childhood. Maybe the full moon gets to them. I tried to be a good friend. I tried, in my most factual demeanor, to warn them. I even told them about my Easter bunny.

I was five years old. My brother and I begged for a bunny.
"Pleease Mom. Pleease, can’t we have a bunny. We’ll take care of it."
My uncle got my brother and I a bunny for Easter. My single Uncle with no children. Mom dragged us kicking and screaming to the library insisting that we learn about bunnies and the proper way to care for them. My Dad built the cage. This was not just any cage. This was a cage fit for a king. It had ventilation, a built in feeding tray, and soft sides so the bunny would not hurt himself. It was the Mercedes Benz of bunny cages. We were sat down and told that young bunnies sometimes inexplicably die so if the bunny died we would be prepared. We were given our list of instructions regarding handling, and stress to the bunny. Heady stuff for a five year old. We officially became pet owners.

The bunny didn’t die. In fact, he flourished. He grew bigger by the second. In two months Dad had to build a new cage. And six months later he had to build another one. By the time the bunny was a year old Dad had built him four cages each one bigger and more luxurious than the last. By the time he got to the year old cage, he decided to really get creative. He connected all of the old cages to the new one making a bunny complex in our backyard. Mom just walked around the monstrosity, as she liked to call it, shaking her head. I found the bunny books in her room opened to the chapter on “ Why Bunnies Die Early”.

Our bunny did not die early. In fact it got so big so fast that my parents took it to the vet. They wanted to know what was wrong with our bunny. It obviously had a genetic defect. It’s growth gene was clearly out of whack. Surprise! We didn’t actually have a bunny. We had some sort of exotic hare. These things apparently can grow to be about twenty pounds and live for a very long time. The color drained completely out of my Mom’s face. My Dad was smiling. He was going to be building cages for a very long time. The cage complex took over our backyard. My Italian Grandmother would show up periodically to put a death spell on the hare. A bunch of my aunts would come over dressed in black to assist in this family ritual. It didn’t work. Our hare lived to be twelve years old. It was over twenty pounds when it finally passed.
My friend bought her daughter a bunny for Easter. I warned her. She did not take heed. It was her compromise pet. This poor child will never own a dog, or a cat, or any other pet that has run of her mother’s house. Mommy is not a pet person. The rabbit was a big success. A huge success in fact. The cousins all loved the bunny. They petted her. They played music near her cage. They danced for her. They took this bunny into the bosom of their family. Twenty four hours later the bunny was dead. The little girl is freaked out. The older brothers are upset. Mom is holding the dead bunny trying to figure out what one does with a dead bunny while trying to comfort her children. Dad was at work when the bunny passed. He comforted the upset family via the telephone while trying to come up with a plan. The bunny will be replaced. This is a plan? Getting the kid a dog is a plan. You can put the dog out when you want to go to the beach. Dogs respond to petting by small children. The more petting the better. You don’t have to build cages. You get a dog house and done.

These two normally sane adults decided to replace the bunny. They got a bigger bunny. No one went near the new bunny. They monitored the bunny’s every movement. They watched new bunny. They fed him and loved him from afar. It didn’t help. New bunny died from loneliness.

Bunny number three has just arrived on the scene. She is a beautiful white fluffy bunny. She sits on the bed quietly. She can be squeezed, dragged, thrown, danced with, and she requires no cage or trips to the vet. She is stuffed. And perfect.