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I had a bunny once. The girl I was living with took it from a friend. I begged her not to, but there the bunny was. It smelled so bad we had to devote the entire 'guest' room to 'bunny' room. It became painfully apparent, immediately, that neither of us actually wanted a bunny, but we had it. This was a pretty huge point of contention in an already strained relationship. A few weeks later, she was with one of her brothers friends, and in the long and painful process of moving out. It took her over 3 months to actually get her stuff out. At least she paid her half of the rent the entire time she was gone. Here's the kicker, though; she left the bunny. That bunny sat in that room for months while the rest of her belongings were at my place. I'm not a bad person, so of course I took care of it. Hell, I changed its bedding more often that she did. I would call her and beg her to get the bunny. I was spending hours and hours every week taking care of this thing that was basically the embodiment of the end of our relationship. It was horrible. She didn't seem to care. Finally, I found a somewhat 'backwoods' friend who would be more than happy to adopt the bunny from me. He wanted to make a bunny stew. Seriously. When I let her know Mr.Bunny had found a new home, and what that entailed, the rabbit was gone with her three days later.
