Twenty dollars meant for tomato plants, A skinny little fleamarket bunny missing patches of fur, and what happens when I am left alone with a choice to makeup

Twenty dollars meant for tomato plants, a skinny little flea market bunny missing patches of fur, and what happens when I’m left alone with a choice to make.

I have a soft heart. It’s probably also accurate to say I have a soft mind given my track record for debatable choices and equally debatable sanity.

Three years ago I stood at a table covered with plants, one of dozens and dozens stretched across a dirt lot and filled with chachkis, second hand items,odds and ends, and homemade crafts.

An old woman sat on a folding chair in a small portable pen with rabbits for sale around her feet. They were adorable. I just couldn’t resist moving a few steps closer to get a peek.

The thing that caught my eye was this very small, very skinny baby bunny hiding under her chair. He was much smaller than the other bunnies and missing so many patches of fur from being picked on by his heartier siblings.

I asked if I could hold him and she scooped the wee thing out from under her seat and handed him to me. I could feel his ribs. I don’t think it took me more than a second to fall in love with that poor creature and asked how much to buy him.

My husband just shook his head when he turned up with the car to load the tomato plants, only to find me standing with absolutely no tomato plants, and cuddling a very scared bunny under my chin.

I named him Buttercup because he was a buttery sweet thing. He wouldn’t eat at first. He just huddled in a corner of a Rubbermaid tote in the corner of my kitchen, looking sad and sleepy.

I nudged him and tried to coax him to drink but he stayed tucked and shaking. I worried over him and didn’t want him to be alone so I placed our three little ducklings in with him.

They quacked and bothered him with their curious plodding, and splashing around his food and water. Little by little he made his way over to his food and started nibbling. Every time the duckings tried to get to the food, he nibbled faster. There’s nothing like a little healthy competition to urge an underfed bunny to get hopping and eat!

It was amazing to see that wee thing start to strengthen and fatten. His fur grew back soft and silky. He grew bold hopping around our kitchen finding new edges of books to chew on and baskets to devour.

He’s three years old this month. His belly is nice and round and fat. He has a lovely double chin, long droopy ears that sweep the floor, a gentle heart and is definitely the best thing I ever bought for my garden.

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Blogger, life enthusiast, queen of chaos. Author and star of #closertocrazy, and Hairbeast Productions. I live in north central Massachusetts on a tiny misshapen, entirely accidental farm. Life is always an adventure! Available for freelance writing and social media Brand Building consultation Contact me at to discuss projects and fees

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