Bunny!

I found him. The perfect little bunny rabbit.

            Jason and I drove to Seattle to look at the rabbits. As we walked up the steps to their house, the smell of bunny urine intensified as we neared the door. A small I was not excited for. Kyle and his wife, Aundi, who sat on the couch with a towel in her lap, greeted us with big smiles. Along the walls stood a spinning wheel and bags of white wool, which I assumed was from their many rabbits (twenty-five to be exact), awaiting to be spun and dyed.

They told us to sit on the couch and Aundi reached over and placed the towel on my lap.

“Be careful when you pick him up. His feet might scratch so keep the towel underneath.

I pulled down the ends of the white cloth and there, no bigger than football, sat the smoke pearl rabbit I saw in the picture.

His fur didn’t mat yet, but my fingers could not stop petting his furry body. I wanted to pull him to my face and give him Eskimo kisses. The fluff covered most of his eyes as if he were sleeping on my lap. My hands wrapped around him and pulled him closer to my chest. I fought the desire to hug him and squeeze his tiny body. He was my bunny. My quest felt nearly complete.

Kyle kept talking about the grooming measures of angoras – the brush to use, how often to brush them, what cage to keep them in, how the gray color would turn into smoke pearl as it matured and the fiber would be light enough to dye any color.

Then they showed another rabbit, the smoke pearl’s brother. It was smaller, just as fluffy but the color of cinnamon. Jason took a liking to him because they had one thing in common – ginger features. 

 He was adorable. They were both adorable. My eyes switched back and forth between the cinnamon and smoke pearl, but the smoke pearl rabbit was it.

Kyle continued with more grooming tips. I processed his words, but could not keep from looking at the smoke pearl bunny in my arms. I turned to Jason, saying “aww” and pouting my bottom lip out. My mouth formed the words “I want him”, but Jason kept shaking his head saying no, not right now.

I wanted the rabbit. My heart marked him mine. A cunning plan devised in my head if I couldn’t sway Jason to agree to get the bunny. Maybe a friend or a cousin could take me to Seattle, “rabbit-nap” him (only after paying for it), and bring him to my apartment even though they don’t allow pets except for cats. That way I would be taking care of him and Jason wouldn’t know unless I told him (his car doesn’t do well in long distances). The bunny was still 4 weeks and legally could not be sold until it was at least 8 weeks. So time was on my side giving me a month to plan this out.

Maybe if my charms didn’t work, I could bribe him with food and pastries?

Crap. I just remembered he’s on a diet.