Last week I picked up a cute guy while out walking.
He’s short, hairy, and handsome, and he has this thing for raw carrots.
Meet Pepper, named by Miss C. He is now livin’ large after being homeless. But not with us. (The dogs would eat him in one bite.)
I work in a nice office park area and there’s a long stretch of sidewalk that runs behind a nearby Publix strip mall. I was zipping along when I spotted a small black and white creature nibbling grass at the edge of some trees and bushes about 30 feet in front of me. I was close enough to realize, thank you Jesus, that I wasn’t about to get sprayed by a skunk, and it didn’t take long to determine that it was a domesticated bunny. No doubt someone had gotten this little guy as an Easter surprise and decided they couldn’t keep him so they dropped him off in this nice commercial area with the Range Rover dealership and nail salon and Starbucks within hopping distance. Maybe they thought someone would see him and pick him up. Maybe that someone would be a woman who works in the area who is a TOTAL SUCKER FOR SMALL HELPLESS FURRY BEINGS.
I had on white capris (natch) so I rolled them up past my knees, knelt in the grass and talked to this bunny. Thankfully no one was driving by to see what a total weirdo I was but I couldn’t just walk off and leave a pet rabbit in such a commercial area. He’d never make it past summer.
“OK little guy if you let me pick you up, I will find you a home.”
I clenched my teeth and picked him up, bracing myself for him to scratch the living daylights out of my bare arms with his strong back feet. But he was as docile as can be. Obviously this little guy was not your garden variety brown garden rabbit. This guy was meant to be a pet. I’d spotted a somewhat nasty box in the nearby ditch and used it as a temporary crate to carry him back to my office and straight to my car and then had to figure what the heck to do next. I called my co-worker and gave her the 30-second “so I have this live rabbit in a box” update and she brought me my purse and keys and a fresh box to transport him in. I used a mesh seat back travel cushion for a makeshift bunny cage top on the box, and I cranked the AC in my car and the classical music during the 20-minute drive to my house to meet my dad. Mr. Bunny was not digging the confines of the box.
My dad took Mr. Bunny to the vet where he was treated for all his various and sundry hitchiker parasites and they determined that he was indeed a boy. (You haven’t lived until you’ve heard your 79-year-old dad say to you and your kids, “The vet had to just dig and dig down in the little guy’s fur to find his little bunny pecker it was so small.”)
Long story short, hubby made a call and our neighbors knew someone who is a huge small animal fan with a rescue rabbit and a rescue rat for pets. She met me at the house the next day with a small carrying case filled with fresh hay and it was love at first sight for both of them.
Farewell Mr. Bunny. Somewhere in heaven you have an awesome guardian angel and you also have a few people here on Earth who wanted to see you make it.