Okay, so we had five bunnies and that was more than enough. I never had any idea of getting another bunny. But, someone called, “Do you know anyone who wants a bunny?” I did, and I called them, but they had changed their mind. I thought about it for a few days. The caller, not the owner, said that they just didn’t want the bunny anymore. “Bunny needs a home.” I didn’t know about our local House Rabbit Society, but I felt like I had taken on bunny rescuing myself. I went to see Bunny, whose name was Holly. She had been a family Christmas present 4 years ago when she was just a baby. But now the family had a new dog and the kids had lost interest in taking care of the rabbit.

My husband warned me beforehand, “DO NOT BRING HOME THAT BUNNY UNLESS THE OWNERS AGREE TO PAY FOR SPAYING!!!!!”

When I got there I saw a curious bunny in a cage in the laundry room. Mind you, the laundry room was as big as my great room, but it was still a laundry room with noisy washing machines, exposed wires, etc. One look told me volumes. The bunny was in a pile of shredded newspaper, no hay, no litter pan; next to a full, untouched bowl of -you guessed it—alfalfa pellets! The poor rabbit’s nails were so overgrown it looked as if there were spiders on the ends of her paws. And, as we made small talk, a yippy little dog kept harassing the rabbit.

Well, you know the story. I had to get that bunny out of that environment. But try as I might, I couldn’t convince the owners to pay for the spaying. “Must it be done right away?” they asked. Hmm, a four-year-old bunny, never bred, yeah, it was definitely time to spay.

“I really want to take this bunny, but I can’t afford to have her spayed.” I looked around at the current owners’ magnificent house. Again, I didn’t know about our local house rabbit society.

The owners wouldn’t budge. The yippy little dog continued to chase the rabbit around the spacious laundry room. I had to rescue that bunny, so I stooped to an all time low, dastardly deed. I had my daughter call my husband at work and say, “Daddy, please?” My hubby was none too happy with me; I can’t say that I was proud of myself, but what else could I do? “Money is very tight,” he said firmly. “I know, but if you were here, if you saw….”

“Do what you’re going to do,” he said in that impatient, exasperated tone he gets sometimes. I wasted no time loading the bunny, cage and all into the car. It had to be the hottest day in August, and of course our AC didn’t work. “Could I have some ice?” I asked the owners, concerned unless the bunny had a heat stroke on the way home. I was given a small coolpak like you put in a lunchbox. I sped all the way home.

Once in the cool house I set about wiping bunny down with a cool, damp cloth—especially the ears. Next I cleaned out the cage, put in a litter pan with hay, and fresh timothy pellets. That rabbit ate the timothy hay as if she were starving. I could tell by her humongous dewlap that she was very hormonal. We’d have to get her to the vet soon. I prepared to face the wrath of my husband, but Honey (her new name, I always wanted to name a bunny Honey) had plans of her own. Mike came home drenched in sweat from working outside all day to face his disobedient wife and another vet bill. Honey worked her magic. Before he could even get mad, she had him wrapped around her furry little paw. We took her in for spaying that week, none too soon, as the vet said she had caught and removed the beginnings of cancer. Honey has been with us two years now and is a precious addition to our family.