Goodbye, Floopy

My daughter named our bunny, “Floopy.”

When we’d say his name, some people would raise an eyebrow. “Floozy?”

“Floo-pee,” we’d correct. “A combination of ‘floppy-eared’ and ‘Snoopy,’ get it?”

He was a floppy-eared dwarf rabbit.

He had chocolate-colored spots on his back that were arranged in a smile pattern. We thought that was a good sign when we brought him into the house as a six-week-old bouncing baby bunny.

He never really did have much of a sense of humor, but he was cute. And, at the time, my kids, then 8 and 10, were grieving for the loss of our two dogs, Kristy and Jezzie.

The bunny was my attempt to distract them from that grief.

I could have adopted another dog, but dogs are a big responsibility, and I thought we might have to move. Finding a rental that allows a dog can be tough. I didn’t think it was a good time to bring another dog into our family.

I wouldn’t have conceived of the idea to bring a rabbit into the house except that my kids missed our dogs so much. Especially my daughter. The sound of her sobbing into her pillow at night was too much to bear.

“What’s the matter?” I’d ask.

“I miss Jezzie,” (our old dog), she’d say, gulping in despair. This went on night, after night, after night.

I shared with my friend, a fellow dog lover, how much my kids missed their dogs. She suggested that I buy them a bunny instead. “It’s like a little dog, only it doesn’t bark and it’s easier to take care of.”

It was almost Christmas two years ago when I decided to get the kids a bunny.

We ended up going to The Rabbit Hill in Benicia, where they raise dwarf bunnies for shows and to sell. The owner, a school principal, was very knowledgeable and helpful and taught us how to care for the bunny.

Floopy received a hero’s welcome into our home…though my son initially decided he didn’t like him much after Floopy bit him a couple of times when he tried to pick him up.

Here’s what I learned about bunnies:

• First of all, if anyone tells you they are easy to care for, they are lying. It’s work. Our bunny’s nickname was Professor Poops-a-lot for a reason.
• You have to brush them, clip their nails, feed them bunny food and hay, refill their water bottle and clean their cages daily. (You haven’t lived until you’ve cleaned a bunny’s litter box a few hundred times.)
• Even when they are “litter box trained,” they still drop pellets all over the house when you let them roam free. The pellets are dry and easy to pick up… but still, a never-ending chore.
• Bunnies aren’t thrilled when you come home the way dogs are. Open their cage, and they may or may not even want to come out. To get Floopy to come to us, we had to sit on the floor and do something other than ask him to “come here.”
• Bunnies, like all animals, need exercise. We were told you have to let him out of the cage at least 20 minutes a day. After litter box training our bunny (which took a long time), we let our bunny roam free in the house. It was fun to see him hop around and scamper…but he ate the baseboards and chomped the chord to my lamp.

When we moved to our apartment, we knew better than to have him in the house, so we put his cage on the balcony. Bunnies like colder weather, so that worked out okay, and it seemed ideal for him to have a contained space where he could roam in and out of his cage.

But the small balcony didn’t provide ample room for him to exercise. And since he was outside, he was also out of mind. The kids didn’t play with him as often. They argued over who had to feed him and clean the cage.

I often got stuck cleaning up after Professor Poops-a-lot. And then the deal breaker happened. He got an eye infection and needed veterinary care.

But more than that, he needed better care. His hair was matted, his nails overgrown. He needed more exercise and more attention.

I just didn’t have the heart to suggest that we give him back to the bunny farm we got him from, even though the owner said that we should if there ever came a time when we couldn’t care for him anymore.

Thankfully, the idea to give back Floopy came from my ex-husband. After seeing Floopy’s right eye, red with infection, he said to our kids, “You guys can’t have a bunny in this apartment. It’s not fair to him.”

Lucky for me, the kids agreed. “He needs a place where he can run free,” my son said.

And so, with their blessing, I returned Floopy to the Bunny Hill last weekend. The bunny lady pulled out his matted hairs and put him in a cage with a “girlfriend” bunny, who, she explained, would lick his eye to help it heal…though she would also give him antibiotics.

She promised to find Floopy another family to love him, but until then, he would be well cared for at the Bunny Hill.

Floopy helped my kids recover from the loss of their dogs. He taught them how much it takes to care for another living being…and that it’s okay to admit when you’re not up to caring for an animal you love…it’s okay to find it a better home. It’s the right thing to do.

Before leaving him at the Bunny Hill, I snuggled Floopy and pet his little smiley back. He purred to let me know he liked it.

“Goodbye, Floopy,” I whispered in his little floppy ear. “We love you, little guy.”