Enter Mr. Biggles: I Did Not Want A Rabbit

I have never been a big fan of rabbits. They seem like such helpless little creatures that cannot be spooked, tusselled, or stressed without croaking. Nor do they fair very well with my Darwinian style of pet ownership, like forgetting to feed the cat until she is attacking my leg out of frustration. Not really a good pet choice for me...and I've got that. But, my daughter loves bunnies and has been begging for one. She's only ten and if you've been a parent for at least 10 minutes you'll know that that means I will be ultimately responsible for said rabbit. I was good at resisting her attempts at bunny ownership. No amount of rabbit care google searches, batting eyes, cute bunny utube videos, or checked-out rabbit library books was going to sway me. My husband, a steady force to me in many ways, had not built up the fortress necessary to withstand a wiley preteen girl. So it was he, who cracked. James announced at the dinner table that if Elizabeth wanted a bunny for Christmas that would be the only gift she would receive. She immediately bit at her chance. "Yes!" After much spousal deliberation, I relented...under one condition. She had to pick a type of rabbit I liked.

So began two months of researching, note taking, and uTubing rabbits. One thing became evident. People can become obsessed with anything. I was no different.  I had become enamored with a particular type of bunny that was dual purpose - a pet and potential big ball of yarn.  As a knitter and an admirer of useful things, I fell into love with Angora rabbits.  The English Angoras were irresistible to me with their cute curly ears and fluffy bunny butts.   Elizabeth, being desperate to get any type of rabbit, fell in love too...or at least she pretended.  In spite of their high maintenance, I was willing to devote 10 years or so to these little fuzzy guys in exchange for access to a free supply of wool.

Enter Mr. Biggles.  I first spotted him on a bunny webcam (yes, there is such a thing).  He belonged to an Angora breeder in Arkansas and he was not for sale.  Elizabeth and I spent about a week watching him and his littermates bouncing around on top of each other.  I cannot imagine a cuter spectacle.  We were so smitten that we had to tell his owner how much we enjoyed his bunny cam and we had actually made up a "pretend" name for one of the bunnies he was keeping.  Well, I guess he took that to mean that we would like to buy that bunny because Mr. Bunny Webcam Operator was willing to part with "Mr. Biggles" if we were serious.  I summoned up the appropriate funds and (without telling my husband, as he got me into this pickle in the first place) I made arrangements to retrieve my, I mean, our bunny.  Elizabeth and I picked him up in Waxahatchie, TX on a Saturday in January.

Mr. Biggles is a broken tortoiseshell English Angora rabbit.  Take a look at him yourself.  He's adorable.