ThinkingSkull.com

At the breakup of my previous relationship, we amicably divided the assets and responsibilities. Two of those “responsibilities” were our “kids,” of which we had a rabbit and a cat. The cat always took to me better and the rabbit to her (although neither critter was ever especially fond of being held or cuddled).

We referred to our bunny as “Rupert” (last name “Giles” for those paying attention) and rescued him just before Easter weekend four or five years ago. As such, we referred to him as our Easter bunny. The term “rescue” rather then adoption refers to someone else discarding a difficult pet, often because the owner doesn’t know how to treat a bunny properly (see Rabbit.org for more enlightenment on that subject). We were under the impression that such critters properly taken care of could live to eight or nine years.

Sadly, on last Good Friday, Rupert passed away during the night. Interestingly, children celebrating the commercialized and ritualized Pagan portions of the following Sunday holiday were not disappointed that morning, which is creepy when you read way too much into it. Rest peacefully now, Rupert, and we’ll remember you every Easter along with that other guy who’s death was moved for religious purposes to Good Friday.

But please take this free piece of advice: rabbits are not merely reptile food, and for those daring to take them on as pets, please understand that they require attention and play like any cat or dog, not stuck in a painful cage like a Guinea pig or hamster. Giving them to preschoolers on Easter is not only cruel to the children but cruel to the rabbit, too. Again, see Rabbit.org and learn all about the secrets of the House Rabbits Society.