Pictured here covertly hiding behind flowers while still staring at me.
I learned long ago that bunnies were not to be trusted.
In college, my friends Laura and Heather got me a bunny, an adorable ginger buck, or possibly a doe... I don't know. I really have a deficit in telling the sex of rabbits, but I named it Futurix, and I loved it... okay, I loved the idea of it... I didn't really love that it had free reign of my room as I had no cage and it escaped the makeshift corral I had set up for it in my spare closet and it decided the best thing to do when escaping a cozy closet hutch is to get up on its owner's bed and pee and poop all over it.
I also didn't love that I had to learn the hard way that bunnies can growl as I tried to gingerly get it out from under the bed where it was also pooping and peeing and I was met with fierce glowing eyes and satanic snarling.
Or that bunnies could star in their own disgusting bunny internet shock videos (if only I had had another bun and a cup) because they eat their own poop, although I guess it was just helping with the removal of the tons of bunny poo it had deposited all over my room. Recycling, right?
After a day or two of the bunny and I tolerating each other's existences, I realized that it was possibly more my fault than the bunny's and I gave him/her back to Laura, who promptly litter trained it and gave it a happy life where no one judged it for eating it's own waste.
But that doesn't preclude the fact that I am now being stalked by a bunny... because it is out there...staring at us... with its fur, and its twitchy nose, and the nibbling... the nibbling!