Although I wasn’t looking to add a bunny to our menagerie of household pets, it didn’t take long to convince me to take care of Isabella for two weeks. My four children have been begging for a rabbit for months now (and a chinchilla, and a snake, and a wombat . . . ), so this very temporary bunny-sitting arrangement seemed like just the thing to give them a little taste of the bunny experience without any real commitment. Plus, this rabbit was promised to be a real charmer — a sweet little bunny that loves children and is litterbox-trained.
Isabella, a large white rabbit with red eyes, arrived at our house in a small cat carrier. Her water bottle was filthy, there was enough food for about three days and there was no litter in sight. No matter. We soon had the fluffy creature set up in the largest dog crate I own, with a clean water bottle, rabbit food, fresh vegetables and a rabbit-sized litter-filled box. The kids were beside themselves with excitement. Even I had to admit that she was very cute. I told the kids not to bother her for awhile so she could get acclimated to her new home.
Awhile later, it was time for the kids to visit with Isabella. I set off to do other things, assuming that the rabbit would keep the kids occupied for awhile. Moments later, all four kids were standing before me, fear in their eyes.
“We can’t get her out of the crate!” Natalie cried.
“Well, just reach in a grab her,” I replied. “She likes kids. She won’t bite.”
“NOOOO WAY!” they all cried. I looked at the eight large eyes staring up at me. “She’s scary,” Miles claimed. “She growls and lunges and shows her teeth!” Natalie cried.
I laughed. “Oh come on, guys! It’s a little bunny rabbit! How scary can she be?”
No reply, just the eight big eyes.
“Oh, all right.” I headed to the cage and peered in. There was cute, fluffy Isabella, sitting peacefully in her litter box, munching on a carrot. She looked at me sweetly, little nose twitching in a typical bunny-like manner.
I opened the cage door without hesitation. “Hey sweet little bunny,” I said softly, reaching out to pick her up.
Within 3 seconds, I realized that this was no sweet, innocent little Isabella. No, this creature was a “Bunnicula” if I ever saw one. In fact, I have taken it upon myself to rename my fluffy houseguest.
For those unfamiliar, Bunnicula is a children’s book by Deborah and James Howe about a rabbit of the same name. Like Isabella, the main character of the book is adorable. But soon after she is adopted, the family dog and cat realize that something is just not quite right about this particular bunny. For one thing, she has pointy fangs – never a good sign. Then there’s her strange nocturnal habit and her fondness for biting vegetables and sucking the juice out of them. The dog and cat put two-and-two together and soon realize that there is a vampire bunny in their midst.
Well, I’m just as astute and observant as that dog and cat, so it didn’t take me long to realize that we too are living with a rabbit of the vampire variety. She growls, lunges in a most threatening manner, and displays a much greater fondness for human blood than I am comfortable with. She demonstrates unusual nocturnal activity, like glaring menacingly with her glowing red eyes and smirking with a sinister grin. She also bites the hand that feeds her. Literally.
Yes, this evil bunny is a vampire. I’m sure of it. I swear, she even has pointy fangs and I may have seen her starting to suck the juice out of her carrots when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Strangely, much like the humans in the Bunnicula book, my kids have chosen to overlook her suspicious behavior. They are just so excited about having a bunny in the house and are so taken with her clean, white fluffiness that they don’t seem to realize that she is secretly plotting to suck them all dry. Either that or they have been mesmerized into submission by her eerily glowing red eyes.
In any event, they don’t mind that we have to tilt the cage to an 80 degree angle and shake it to remove her from her crate. They laugh off her nibbles to their flesh, saying things like “Oh, the sweet little rabbit must need more food!” or “Yay Mom! She didn’t break the skin this time!” They even treated her to a little walk around the yard today, despite the fact that I’m sure she spent most of her outdoor time trying to line up a good bite angle. She probably spent the remainder of her time attempting to kill each and every one of them with her evil glares.
And don’t even get me started on her litterbox habits. Litterbox trained? Seriously? That rabbit uses her litter box for its intended purpose about 10% of the time and then, only when she happens to already be sleeping in it. Not that a litterbox deficiency is a trait of vampires, but it’s a sign of something. And not something good either.
Honestly, I’m starting to question whether that friend of a friend ever really intends to show up again to retrieve his “sweet little bunny who loves kids.” He claimed to be headed to Charlotte but I’m kind of thinking he may be sneaking around in another country, lying low until this whole thing blows over.
My kids think I’m just being paranoid. That’s exactly what the humans thought in the Bunnicula book too. Not to worry though. I’ve got my eye on this one. Bunnicula will slip up sooner or later. And as soon as I find concrete evidence in the form of a white shell of a vegetable lying around, sucked dry and colorless and marked with those tell-tale fang marks, believe you me, I’m calling the authorities.
