My brother, the marketing guru, told me that this blog suffers from a distinct “lack of bunny.” To drive more page views, he says, I need to tell more tales of life with the four pound hopper.

So I’ll start with how I got him.

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Early in my paper career, I was going through a slump. I did not enjoy talking to random people all day (sign one that I shouldn’t have stayed so long) and I was tired of manipulating the nice people who did buy from me into buying more stuff for the sake of my commission (sign two that I shouldn’t have stayed so long).

Another buddy in the office was also going through a slump, but for an entirely different reason. You see, his territory was populated almost entirely by Korean immigrants, many of whom claimed to not speak English. I can’t say for sure whether they did or not, but I have to admit, it’s a great strategy to get the paper sales people to go away.

So the buddy and I were feeling slumpy and I speak Korean. We came up with this brilliant idea to go out together and take the Korean neighborhood by storm.

I went home, translated the pitch and away we went.

How’d the sales experiment go?

Great, thanks for asking. I sold three large ashtrays to a restaurant.

Does that have any bearing on this story?

No.

Tell us about the bunny.

Okay.

The World’s Saddest Pet Shop

After my ashtray victory, we were feeling pretty good about ourselves. Pitching a strip center, we walked into what can only be described as the world’s saddest pet store. It was hot, it was filthy and it was wall to wall snakes and exotic lizards.

Except for a cage full of baby bunnies on the floor in the middle.

I asked the owner/potential customer what the deal with the bunnies was. Blithely, he informed me that they tried to sell the rabbits while they were still little and cute. Then, they would be fed to the snakes.

Apparently, my face must have shown how distressing I found this factoid, because he offered to give me a rabbit for free. (So long as I bought the cage.)

I was all for it and picked out a rabbit that was similar in coloring to the pet mouse that I had at the time. (His name was Alexei and I got him from a rescue organization that got him from a cosmetics lab. He’s no longer with us.) Thrilled with my unilateral decision-making skills, I was all set to spend the next 8-10 years snuggling my new bunny when Tim, ever the voice of reason, told me that I should ask Bret before I brought him home.

Why My Husband Doesn’t Golf Without Me Anymore

Listening to Tim’s advice, I shot Bret a text message that said:

Hey. How do you feel about a pet bunny?

Three hours later, he finally responded with “Negatively.

Because I believe honesty is the best policy, and also because the bunny was nestled into a cardboard box on my lap, I went with the most logical, truthful and pithy response I could come up with:

“Too late.”

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And that, my friends, is how a four pound feeder rabbit became part of our family. I’ll tell you more about why he doesn’t have a name later.

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