We came across the bunnies. The farmer, Mona, assured me that all three of the bunnies were female. That was the deal. I was hesitant from the start with the whole bunny thing, but I remembered my grandparents’ quintessential New England farm with the bunny hutch at the corner of the vegetable garden near the lush green pasture.
Wondering how she could be so certain of the bunnies’ miniscule anatomy, I asked Mona one last time, “These are all female, right?”
The first three bunnies were Miniature Rexes. Other than their cuteness, they were basically useless, only eating, wiggling their noses and leaving little pellets everywhere. Anna took responsibility for the rabbits.
At this point, I caved in and bought a beautiful hutch from a woodcrafter near our farm. The only bunnies cohabitating were the original three ‘girls’.
Then the day came that changed our little farm forever. Anna hurried down the hill, radiant, braids flying everywhere. “Mopsy has babies!”
News flash. Mona was wrong. Sadie turned out to be Stanley. We were back to building bunny bitches, which were now starting to resemble condos. I separated the bunnies according to what I thought was their sex. Anna was over the moon having tea parties with bunnies and our one cat, Chloe, who would tolerate anything that Anna requested. She carried miniscule babies around in a basket, placed them on her math book, her music stand. Anna was the bunny girl.
Each morning I sat on the deck trembling and sipping my coffee awaiting the news from Anna after her morning visit to South Beach. “Mommy, so and so has babies.”