Several years ago, I adopted a baby lop-ear bunny (aka "rabbit"). In my childhood I had many animals: ducks, a Great Dane, a Beagle, a Gerbil, a Guinea Pig (I was about 23 when I got the pig. "FurBall"), a Blue Tick Hound, a toy Poodle, a couple of mice..... You get the picture.
I got FooFoo when I was about 30. I was taking my mom to the grocery store which happened to be by a pet store. My mom screamed like a (excuse the expression) scalded cat when I dragged her in. Her words? "I don't care what it is, don't look, you can't have it, PUT IT BACK" -- yeah, I know. All of a sudden I was 5 years old. I saw the bunnies. Two black and a cotton-tail. My mom knew it was all over. She sighed and asked "Do you need any money to help you pay for the bunny, or the food, or the vitamins....?" Yakita, yakita.
It was complete love at first sight on both parts. The Chihuahua (Harry) had real issues with, in his opinion, the "interloper", but after he figured out that Foo was now a roomie -- he was sort of on board. He became completely on board when FooFoo, a year later, reached full size. "Dwarf Bunnie" my happy A**. Foo outweighed Harry by 10 pounds. The bunny was playful and I never kept him in a cage so he took over the house. Just a note here - it's easier to litter box train a rabbit than it is a cat. This little (well, sort of little) ball of fluff with the famous white tail ate whatever I was eating, sans meat. At times I spent more money on Foo than I did myself! I picked out special micro-greens, baby carrots, celery that I sliced thinly myself..... the list goes on. TWO grocery store saved their trimmings so I could go through them for the bunny.
Foo Foo's favorite food? Chinese fortune cookies. I don't know why; sometimes you just have to accept things as they come to you. My mom and I ate at the same Chinese restaurant every Wednesday and we told our waitress (also the owner) about Foo's food fetish. She started giving me a small bag of fortune cookies every time we ate there.
I was traveling a lot about that time and I'd take the bunny over to mom's so she could Foo sit. This was hysterical. She'd let the fluffy-butt out into her fenced in back yard and brother, it was off to the races. You never saw a happier "wabbit". When I'd get home, I could call him and he'd not only come to me, he'd stand up on his hind legs and put his front paws on my calves to be picked up. This was an extremely intelligent and loving animal.
Foo lived a long life, for rabbits. Nevertheless, when he died? Even my dog and cat were depressed for days. Harry kept looking for his bunny.
This campaign is important to me -- why???
Simple. Two words.
I beg you to help.