Here Comes Suki: Wally Welcomes a Sister

NATICK, MA—This angora fluffy ball of cuteness is probably the biggest bunny celebrity to hit social media. Wally the Bunny, who lives in Natick with his mom Molly Prottas, has more than 220,000 followers on Instagram,and he’s been featured in numerous media outlets, including People Magazine, CNN, Good Morning America and the Boston Globe.

Now, he's not alone. Watch the story unfold in pictures.

The following was submitted by Molly Prottas:

A Wally Story Part 1: I peer through the kitchen window to see Wally feverishly digging a hole in the backyard. He pauses to examine his work then turns toward the house. With dirt on his nose and a leaf hanging from his chin, he takes a deep breath as if he’s preparing to blow up a giant balloon. “I need an EASEL! An easel please!” he yells at the top of his lungs. An easel? I walk outside to investigate. “I’m building a swimming pool!” says Wally as he jumps and twirls in excitement. “I need an easel for my architectural plans!” Uh oh. “Wally? I admire your ambition, but we can’t build a pool in our yard.” I explain that the construction of a swimming pool requires professionals and is very expensive. As if apologizing to the dirt, Wally gently pats the exposed earth. His head droops like a thirsty tulip. “But the DUCKLINGS!” he cries. “The ducklings?” I ask.

A Wally Story Part 2: “Yes! The ducklings! I told them they could take swimming lessons in my new luxury pool!” Wally sprints inside, stomping his muddy paws up the stairs instead of on the doormat. I follow his tracks to the closet, where he’s blasting Simon and Garfunkel’s “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.” Music helps Wally to calm down, and this has recently become his favorite song. I listen at the door to see if it’s playing on repeat. It is, which means that it’s best to leave Wally alone. He’ll come out when he’s ready. Later that day, he turns off the music. The silence signals Wally’s impending closet exit, so I hurry upstairs. Clutching his piggy bank, Wally emerges from among my shoes and empties his allowance into my purse. “For my Amazon purchase,” he says, as he vanishes with a broom and dustpan. I peak around the corner to see him sweeping up the dirt from his muddy dash inside. Within the dark closet, my laptop glows with Wally’s order confirmation: Ocean Reef Snapset Pool – “A snap to set up!” – for $16.74. But my attention is captured by a tab to the right: “The Enchanted Bunny League” it reads. I open the tab.

A Wally Story Part 3: I see a logo of a winking rabbit with magic wand ears. Next to it, a pop-up box reads, “Thank you for joining The Enchanted Bunny League mailing list!” Uh oh. I click the back button to discover that Wally has Googled “fairy godmothers for bunnies.” “Don’t worry! I didn’t buy anything!” says Wally, scampering over with a dustpan full of dirt. “It’s just that I couldn’t submit my 'Free Enchanted Bunny Wish List' unless I joined the mailing list.” Wally’s smile suddenly wilts to a frown and he hugs his broom. “I wish upon a star every night,” he laments. “But it’s not working. So I’m chasing my dreams another way: through my free bunny wish list!” I’m slightly taken aback; I didn’t know Wally was actively chasing any dreams right now or I would have tried to be more involved. “What are your dreams, Wally?” “To have webbed duck feet! So I can swim with the ducklings!”

A Wally Story Part 4: Two days later, Wally wakes up at 5:30 a.m. to wait on the porch for the Amazon delivery truck. When he hears an approaching vehicle, he gallops to the sidewalk, hopeful that his package has arrived. This is standard behavior on delivery days. When I return from work, I see that the backyard has become home to a bright blue plastic pool. The pool is half-filled, but I don’t see Wally. Suddenly, the screen door slams and out he comes, dragging a watering can even though the hose is inches away. “The hose water is too cold,” he explains. “So I’m using lukewarm water from the kitchen sink.” He uses his entire body weight to pour out the water. Wally sees me glancing at a mosaic of washcloths arranged under a tree. “I didn’t know we had so many duckling towels in the linen cabinet!” he says. (I'm not surprised that he assumes washcloths are "duckling towels.") Faint quaking can barely be heard in the distance. “The ducklings!" he yells. "They’re coming!”

A Wally Story Part 5: I go inside and watch from the kitchen window. Seven ducklings waddle over to the yard as Wally runs to greet them at the fence. He opens the gate, but the ducks don’t enter. I can see them talking. Wally slowly latches the gate as the ducks leave in an orderly line. His eyes fill with tears. I walk outside. “What happened Wally?” “They’re going to the pond,” he says between sniffles and snuffles. “My pool isn’t a conducive environment for duckling development.” “How come, Wally?” “Their mom said they have to learn to swim AND fish at the same time. And my pool doesn’t have any fish!” “Oh Wally! How devastating. You must be very sad.” He plucks a leaf off a nearby plant and blows his nose. "I wanted to build happy summer memories with my duckling friends. And now I’m all alone!” Wally pricks the side of the pool with a pine needle and water comes spurting out. “And I can’t swim in here either!” Before I can ask why, he adds, “Because I don’t even have WEBBED FEET!” Wally tells me he’ll be journaling in the closet and scampers inside. Later that day, I find him rummaging through his yellow craft pail. “Don’t look!” He says with a smile. “It’s a surprise!”

A Wally Story Part 6: “Surprise! There’s a fish in my pool!” yells Wally from the backyard. I see him flopping and flailing inside the drained pool. “Look! I’m a fish!” he giggles. Wally gallops to the fence looking for the ducklings. He smooshes his nose between the pickets and gazes longingly at the world beyond. But there are no ducklings. Twenty-five minutes later, he hasn’t moved. His heart is heavy and his neck is stiff. Just as he allows his chin to rest on the lower fence rail, a delivery truck slows to a stop in front of the house. I'm worried that he’s made another Amazon purchase without my permission. Wally races to the porch to discover a box stamped “The Enchanted Bunny League.” He tears off a note encased in a protective plastic pouch. “Thank you for joining The Enchanted Bunny League Mailing List! We have received and processed your wish list. Unfortunately, we have been unable to fulfill Wish #1: ‘Webbed Duck Feet.’” Wally throws his head backwards and squints at the sun. “I’m trying to be brave,” he says, almost upside down. Even though I tell Wally he can cry if he wants to, he sometimes tries to stop himself by tipping his head back. This way, his “tears can’t come because they can’t travel uphill.” He eventually lifts his head, folds the Enchanted Bunny note into a paper plane, and flies it into the bushes. Still in his fish costume, he hobbles up the stairs and lays down. But he hadn’t finished reading the note.

A Wally Story Part 7: I retrieve the note from the bushes, smooth out the creases, and bring it upstairs to Wally. “Wally? You didn’t finish reading the letter.” He glances up, appearing hopeful for a moment, but ultimately averts his gaze. “There comes a time when a bunny must gracefully accept his defeat,” declares Wally from under his fish costume. “That may be true, Wally. But consider delaying your surrender until after you read the rest of the letter.” I set the paper by his nose. As soon as he thinks I’m not looking, his eyes spring to the note: “We have, however, been able to fulfill Wish #2.”

A Wally Story Part 8: “We have, however, been able to fulfill Wish #2: ‘Gray Bunny Princess.’” Wally gasps. He dashes to the porch, still in his fish costume. And there on the steps, sprouting up from pink bubble wrap, emerges a gray bunny in a tiara. “Hi! It’s ME, Suki!” She looks surprised. “You’re a FISH?” she asks. “No! I’m a BUNNY!” exclaims Wally. “I’m a bunny, TOO!” says Suki. Together, they frolic into the grass holding paws and giggling. And so begins a wonderful friendship. … The end.