She was four legs and a ball of fur, hiding under the table when I arrived. The family had spoken about it. But 'pet' is not a word that sits comfortably with me. I like animals, but I am scared of them, no matter how Lilliputian they are. And above and beyond all other all considerations, their honesty scares me. Unlike humans who may go in for a facade, animals don’t. When you don’t like them, they don’t like you. When you are scared of them, they are scared of you. Very simple.
I remember myself being an irate human being that day. Ridiculing my folks for valuing a rabbits point of view regarding my likeability. Blasphemy.(Did I mention she's a bunny?). But we had two weeks between us and we had to give each other fair chances before calling it love/hate.
So my first day was spent speculating if she would be like a dog or a cat. But she was not, she was exactly like a rabbit. Tucking in the greens, sleeping galore, chewing hay, doing her business in the litter box, nibbling some bunny poop and romping around mad at night. I was overwhelmed by how busy yet unfussy this tiny thing was.
Interspersed between her modest schedule would be her secret moments of euphoria. Things she would do well-timed behind our backs. She could not contain her joy while shredding books, chomping off clothes, murdering 7 phone chargers and 5 ear phones (latest counts).
But I have to admit it , by the time I left back for Germany I fostered an unhealthy level of attachment with her. She did not speak my language, but I enjoyed her company much more than I have enjoyed socializing with humans in a long time.
I always thought without a pet our houses would be cleaner and our holidays would be particluarly easier to plan. But our long-eared missy was a slideshow to the non-consuming and unconditional love that animals bestow. They fill a void in our life, one that we don’t even realise we have. And now we all love her so much that our fur ball is not a pet anymore, she is family.