I want a rabbit.
I grew up having rabbits as pets. But for some reason, they keep coming to tragic demises under my care.
When I was four, I had two rabbits, Maple and Blondo. Maple ate Blondo. It was very sad.
When I was six, I had a rabbit, Miles, who drowned (his outdoor cage was next to our creek, which flooded).
When I was seven, I had another rabbit, Wabbit, who lived in the same cage and during a similar storm was struck by lightning and died.
When I was eleven, I had a rabbit named Ivory who was eaten by a fox.
When I was twelve I had a rabbit, Oreo, that got stuck behind our fridge and died.
When I was eighteen, I had a rabbit, Murphy, who attempted to run away but got stuck in our metal backyard fence and died.
When I was twenty-two I had a rabbit named Chuyia who was eaten by a hawk. (Chuyia had been tied to a tree for some exercise).
When I was twenty-four, I had a rabbit, Dusty, who ran away from home (she escaped from her leash on the tree) and we never heard from her again.
When I was twenty-five (one month ago or so) I tried to raise two baby wild rabbits, who eventually died two days later of starvation.
So clearly I have problems raising rabbits. But that doesn't stop me from loving them. They are my favorite animal.
Here are my two most recent rabbits:
Chuyia before the hawk ate her.
Dusty before she ran away.
Here are some rabbits I wish were mine:
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