The Tale of a Little Bunny

It was a dream that seemed completely unattainable.

Ever since I was a little girl, I desperately wanted to catch a wild rabbit and make it my own. I wanted to play with it. Pet it. Be a friend.

I would chase them, but never catch one.

I gave up the hope, but never the dream.

On Monday, my mom called me and asked me to come over because she had a surprise.

A surprise, indeed!

She had rescued a little baby bunny from the razor-sharp fangs of a blood-thirsty hound. The wildlife center where she volunteered simply didn't have room for him. So, she was going to take care of him herself and release him in a week.

I couldn't believe it! A baby bunny! A wild rabbit!

He wasn't much fun at first. He didn't move much and barely ate. He didn't like being held. But as the days went on, he brightened up. He started eating (loved apples and hated cabbage). He loved to snuggle in my lap (his favorite was getting his ears rubbed). He was curious and would hop all over the couch, ears perking up at all the colorful sights around the room. He even licked my arm, which is the ultimate sign of affection from a rabbit. It means they've bonded with you to the point where they want to groom you.

It seemed he was finally ready for release, so we had planned to take him to a nearby park this afternoon. I was crushed we had to let him go, but I figured that perhaps it was for the best. After all, he would meet new friends and perhaps have a family of his own one day.

But he died this morning.

His internal injuries must have been worse than we thought. His eyes were open, which meant he probably had been awake until the end.

It breaks my heart. I can only hope that I provided him some happiness and comfort during his pain. I hope that he knew how much I loved him.

Goodbye, baby bunny.

The Tale of Rabbit Island

Once upon a time, there was a dark and dreary island in Japan where bad things happened.

Poisonous gas was secretly being manufactured for the military.

More than 6,000 tons of lethal gas was developed at the site, from 1929 to 1945.

The mission was so top-secret, the island was omitted from maps and workers were sworn to secrecy.

It was an extremely dangerous place to work, with many of the laborers becoming ill from breathing in the fumes, or becoming grotesquely disfigured in chemical accidents.

When the factory shut down, the island remained a ghost town.

But in 1971, that all changed.

Japanese school children visited the island during a field trip and released eight bunnies.

Today, there are more than 300.

The island has become one of the most fascinating tourist attractions in the world.

It is named Rabbit Island.

The floppy-eared fluffballs have the entire island to themselves, free from predators. Although they are technically considered wild rabbits, they are accustomed to humans and will approach delighted visitors, eager for a tasty treat. Their favorite food is carrots and cabbage, but they won't turn down rabbit feed, which can be purchased on the island.

They are also known to hop right into visitors' laps.

They love people.

It is a grassy, blue-sky paradise.

The island now has a golf course and camping ground. Visitors are allowed to swim in the crystal clear water surrounding the island. People are not allowed to litter on the island or steal the bunnies.

The ruins of the old gas factory still stand, projecting a haunting shadow amongst the child-like innocence enveloping the island.

It is quite simply, a hell turned into a heaven



Would you like to visit Rabbit Island?

Why I Love Bunnies

Bunnies don't talk shit behind your back.

Bunnies don't pretend to be your best friend.

Bunnies don't vandalize your car.

Bunnies don't cheat on you with some girl they met on Facebook.

Bunnies don't act like religious hypocrites.

Bunnies don't disinherit you for moving out of the house.

Bunnies don't lie to your face.

Bunnies don't complain that you're not married yet.

Bunnies don't call you fat.

Bunnies don't cause drama.

Bunnies just want love.

Merry Christmas

I hope you all have a snuggly and cozy Christmas this year. xoxo

RIP Laptop Fabulous

It finally happened. My laptop died today.

The computer staff at Best Buy said the computer cannot be salvaged and they are unsure if they could even save my hard drive. The laptop was pretty old. I got it for my high school graduation, which was seven years ago.

I am very sad and in desperate need of a hug.

Fortunately, Rian is letting me borrow his laptop when he is not using it. But tonight that only means I get it for ten minutes. So this is going to be a quick post.

I cannot afford a new laptop right now. This couldn't have happened at a worst time. It is even more devastating to me because if they can't save my hard drive, that means I lose a lot of valuable files. Family photos, short stories, poems, and even work-related documents.

I hate technology.

Well, I didn't want to end this post on a depressing note, so I'm putting up a photo of two things I am obsessed with: bunny and Coke.



I hope you are all having a better week than I am!

Bunny time!

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:

I am no longer a mother

Well, both of my babies died today.

I hadn't even named them yet.

The weak one died around noon, the strong one at 5:30 p.m.

They were simply too young. I tried everything I could. I fed them on the hour. I made sure they were warm.

The strong one fought it to the very end. He was squirming in agony and I held him in my hand until his very last breath. He wanted so badly to live and there was nothing I could do to save him. It was very hard to accept.

And I feel so tired today. I wasn't expecting to grieve so deeply. I just sat in the apartment alone this afternoon, crying because life isn't fair. I thought those two babies would have a second chance.

But I have to accept what everyone is telling me: that's nature.

Right.

I am a mother!

I am now a mother…

…of two baby bunnies!

Last night, when I was eating dinner at my parents’ house, I received a phone call from a man named Jason.

“You have to help me,” he said, breathlessly. “I have a rabbit emergency.”

I stared into space for a few seconds with a strained expression. What did he say? And why the hell is he calling me?

“I remembered you mentioned in class once that you are a rabbit expert,” he continued. “You’re the only one who can save these rabbits!”

And then a dawning of understanding arose in me and I froze.

Oh. Shit.

You see, five years ago when I was a young, wide-eyed college sophomore, I kind of fibbed. We were in Media Writing Class and for some reason, the professor made us go around the room and state something incredibly interesting about ourselves. I didn’t have the Jimmy Choo sandals yet, so I didn’t have anything fab to say. So for some reason, I blurted out that I was a rabbit expert. I might have also mentioned that the federal wildlife foundation had contacted me on emergency cases in the past. Everyone was so impressed, I just kept going on.

I didn’t expect them to remember my tale FIVE YEARS LATER.

So I feebly told Jason I would be at his house right away. My dad (who thought the story was HILARIOUS and who thankfully swore not to say anything to contradict my supposed expertise) drove me there. We arrived at Jason’s house and he explained the situation. Apparently there are two baby rabbits. They were born yesterday. A cat ate their brothers and sisters and their mom. He showed me the box. When I looked inside, a wave of relief swept over me.

“These aren’t rabbits, these are baby mice,” I told him, looking at the small black balls nestling in the box.

He looked at his wife and they both looked at me. No, they said, these are baby rabbits.

I laughed and said “of course, I was just testing you.”

And then their four-year-old son came in the room and looked at me, wide-eyed. “Are you going to save the bunnies?” he asked me.

My heart melted. “Yes, I’m going to save them,” I said, confidently. He cheered. Emotions ran through me. I felt like I was in a Jimmy Stewart movie.

So on the way back to my parents’ house, rabbits in tow, I frantically called PetSmart. “What the fuck do I do?” I kept asking the salesman. He calmed me down and explained all I could do was feed the babies goat milk twice a day and keep them warm. “They may live, or they might not,” he warned me. “So don’t get too attached right now.”

So I didn’t name them.

But it’s too late. I’m already attached. And while Rian and I were feeding them at home this morning, a strange sensation took over me. And then I realized it was a maternal feeling.

I am a mother!