This week’s innerview was a First. I woof you not. Me an my assistant headed off to innerview Snickers Yowonske, a rescue from The Keys. Snickers is a 6-year-old Holland Lop. I hadn’t heard of that breed, so I Googled.
Turns out, Snickers is a rabbit. A RABBIT!
Bein’ a spaniel, innerviewin’ isn’t the first thing that pops into my head when I think of rabbits. More like: chasin,’ huntin,’ retrieving.’ Maybe even lunch. But then I realized: I’m a Journalist. I’m civilized. I reach out to all species so we can learn more about one another and live in harmony. Or at least, not chase one another up trees or down holes. Hey, if I can learn to be friends with cats, why not rabbits, right?
So, all the way to Snickers’ house, I was repeating, “Rabbits are friends, not food!”
When the door opened, I was surprised to be politely greeted by two Shetland Sheepdogs anna lady. “I’m Neptune,” said the larger. “This is Mojo, a silly pupster, an our Mom, Jennifer. Our Dad Frank, Snickers an the others are in the living room. Come on in.”
“The others?” I thought. Along the front wall was this big, nice wooden house with a screen front an several tidy apartments. Bright bunny eyes and fuzzy bunny noses peeped out from each. Their Mom reached in an lifted out a large brown an white rabbit with long brown, floppy ears. He sat on his Mom’s knee and stared straight at me.
“Snickers, I presume,” I said in my most respectful voce calma. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
“It is my understanding that you do not intend to chase me or otherwise cause me distress. Is that correct?” he said, in a small, very firm voice.
“You have my word as a Spaniel and a gentleman,” I assured him. “I only wish to hear your story and take notes.”
“Cool Carrots!” Snickers hopped to the floor and over to where another Sheepdog lay snoozing. He gracefully leaped over the napping pooch. “This is Coral, my best friend. We’ve been together since I was a kit.”
A small white rabbit thumped over to Snickers. They touched noses an she plopped down next to him. “This is my girlfriend, Ophelia. So, shall I begin?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded to Ophelia. Snickers tucked his paws under.
“I was born on a domestic rabbit farm on Big Pine Key. Then, I don’t know why, they had to close. Before they could find homes for us, there was an accident and we all got out and ran away. I got lost from everybunny and ended up on the side of the road. I was confused an hungry, afraid to move a hare, when this human girl driving by stopped and got out. I hopped right to her. She scooped me up, stuffed me inna box and an took me to her Dad’s shop. An guess what? She turned out to be my Mom an Dad’s daughter Brianna.”
“Woof, Snickers, I guess rabbit’s feet really are lucky,” I blurted, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Fortunately Snickers had a sense of humor.
“Especially when they’re still on the rabbit,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Mom an Dad couldn’t find my owner, so they kept me, even though they didn’t know diddly about rabbits. I’ve been in this wunnerful family ever since. Coral took me under her paw first thing. She said, ‘Don’t worry, little fuzzball. You’re safe now.’ First off, she explained the Potty Box Concept. Mom put a bunch of ’em all over, an I got to pick my favorite one. Neptune showed me how to use the Doggie Door.
“Me an Mojo get along great. Sometimes I hafta remind him what’s what. He likes to come into my apartment, mess up my blankets, eat my ledduce an hide my toys. But he’s very fun to bunny around with.”
“What DO you guys eat? Lotsa carrots, I bet.”
“Ackshully, no. Carrots have too much sugar. They’re just for treats. Mostly, we eat hay.”
“Hay? No carrots? But what about Bugs Bunny?”
“That’s just in his movies. They’re just props. He doesn’t inhale. For my birthday, Mom made me a special treat: a big bowl of crispy ledduce, juicy strawberries and carrot candles.”
“Sweet!” I said.
“It WAS! My FAV-rut time’s Christmas. We watch Mom an Dad decorate the tree, then, me an Ophelia sit under it. It’s real cozy. An we never eat the orna-mutts.”
A serious countenance crossed Snickers’ liddle bunny face. “You see how fortunate I am, Mr. Bonzo, but many are not. Me an my family run a Rabbit Rescue, Hops-A-Lot (Ophelia named it). We save pet rabbits who get bought, often on Easter, then, when the liddle humans get bored, they get returned; or stuck inna cage alone, out in the yard, away from the family; or, the WORST, let loose in the woods, cuz humans think we’ll just hop over to some wild rabbits and live hoppily ever after. But wild rabbits DON’T get along with pet rabbits. They NEVER let us join their famly. We’re DIFF-runt.”
“I had No Idea!”
“Us pet rabbits don’t have a clue how to survive in The Wild. We usually get sick, or run over, or eaten. It’s a Big Problem. We’re tryin’ to get Good Pet Parents to not buy rabbits in stores, but to save a rescue rabbit instead. The shelters have many wunnerful Rabbits in Need. We’re social, fas-TIDDY-us, an get along with other pets an humans. An, of course, we’re Exceedingly Adorable. I think things would be much better for domestic rabbits if humans unnerstood more, don’t you, Mr. Bonzo?”
“I hope so, Snickers. I think my pooch pals can help spread the word.”
Heading home, I was realizin’ how clueless I’d been about rabbits. I knew they weren’t rodents, cuz I’d Googled. (They’re Lagomorphs, which is cool, but not that important.) So let’s think about helpin’ our rabbit pals by spreadin’ the word, OK?
Till next time,
The Bonz
