Never tell them the rabbit died

Animal rights advocates will advise young parents to not purchase live bunnies or baby chicks for their children at Easter time. Youngsters have a limited attention span for seasonal pets, and most children aren't equipped to be pet owners, no matter what the season.

I'm an avid animal lover, and in spite of those warnings, when I was a young mother I foolishly succumbed to the temptation and brought home a little baby bunny, which we named (not so originally) Thumper.

To be honest, neither my husband nor I can recall the circumstances of that particular pet purchase, yet it was not the most thought out thing we've ever done. He'd have to be an outdoor pet, for bunny hair is a bit like cat hair, and both of our children, and my husband are allergic.

Over time I began to regret our purchase, yet that did not stop us from attempting to make Thumper's existence a pleasant one. My husband built a nice large hutch, and I (driven from guilt) made sure he had lots of yummy treats. When possible we'd let Thumper out in the back yard, to run around on the lawn. Yet, the outing seemed to make him nervous, and only served to appease my guilt for keeping this poor animal locked alone in a large hutch.

Our kids would visit the bunny when they were in the back yard, by standing by the hutch and occasionally feeding him carrots through the wired wall. Yet, I wasn't about to compound my guilt and torment the poor bunny, by allowing two young children to drag him around the yard.

One year, when we went on vacation, there was a monsoon like storm that hit our little mountain community of Wrightwood California. Our rear yard backed up to Heath Creek, and the heavy rains filled the creek, and flooded our yard, burying the bottom two or three feet of our fence in silt.

The bunny hutch was located in the back yard and was fortunately on stilts. But when we came home from vacation, it was now sitting on the newly elevated ground. We were grateful it did not flood the hutch completely, and bury the poor bunny.

Thumper survived for a few more years after the flood. But one day, when my husband was leaving for work, he discovered Thumper had died during the night.

Our two young children cried, and my husband buried Thumper in the back yard.

I was sad, but in some selfish way, a little relieved. I could take down the hutch, and no longer worry over the next monsoon. I'd learned my lesson, a bunny was not the appropriate pet for our family.

After the morning burial, my husband went off to work, and I went off to do what stay-at-home moms did in the 1980's.

But when my husband returned home that night, he had a very sheepish look on his face, and immediately started to apologize. Apparently, he had made the mistake of telling the women in his office how the family bunny died during the night. To make matters worse, he told them about how his two young children cried over the loss of Thumper.

After lunch that day, the well meaning women he worked with brought my husband a gift. A baby lop ear bunny. Of course, he didn't have the heart to tell them we had no intentions of getting another bunny.

We named him Bambi.