Now Playing: Don't Give Bunnies For Easter
Topic: The Next Generation
Hullo. My name is George and I amma Easter Bunny.
That's right. I came innu this werld assa Easter Bunny - an ancient symbol of Spring, ob new life, of regeneration, of rebirth an' Hope Inna Future.
At least, that's whut Maman says. She knows aboud these things, about hist'ry an berry old stuff dat nobunny else seems to care aboud. She says Easter is alla'boud rebirth an Hope Inna Future, but that most hoomins hab fortygotten whut Easter rilly is an' make believe dat it is aboud candy an coloured eggs an buyin bunnies inna pet store.
An' den she gets sad an says, "George, you usta be an Easter Bunny."
But I rilly don't bemember much aboud being an Easter Bunny, 'cept dat it was no fun. Bein' an Easter Bunny had nuffin to do wif candy, an nuffin to do wif gettin' borned, an nuffin to do wif' habbin enny kind ob Hope at all.
Here is whut I bemeber aboud bein' da Easter Bunny:
I was berry small.
I got picked uppa'lot.
I was squeezed.
I got fed lettuce.
It made my tummy hurt.
I libbed in a small cage wif some food an wadder. An' ebberybunny seemed to wike me at furst, but preddy soon, dey fortygot aboud me. I guess da "Noo" wore off. Or mebbe I wasn't cute ennymore. Or mebbe I was just inna way.
Cos, you see, I dunno why nobunny wanted me. I wassa Easter Bunny, wasn't I? You know, da Peter Cottontail, Hoppin Down Da Bunny Trail!
Yeah, dere is ebben a song written aboud Easter Bunnies like me. You hear dat song played a lot rite around now.
And it's kinda hard to unnerstand how you can be all lubbed an' wanted one day an then shoved innu a small cage an' become a "chore" the next. I mean, I can't help bein' alive an havin to eat an habbin to go sit inna pootie-box now an' then an all. That's whut bunnies do. An' I can't help it if when all I have issa small cage, all I do is sit. There's not much room for ennyfing else, is there?
So howecome I got shoved innu a box an then left atta V-E-T's office?
Issat whut happins toda Easter Bunny?
Cos dat's whut happined to me.
Sumbun putted me innu a box an dribed me inna car toda V-E-T's office. Dey put me down an den left.
An' dere I was. All by myself.
An' I was three months old.
Now, OnAlone is the most Awfullest Thing that can happin to a bunny. Bunnies are susposed to lib in Warrens wiffa wotta udder bunnies. If you're a bunny, you get borned, an you habba Mawmie, an you learn frumma udder bunnies an get 'Tellygint, an grow up to be a Top Bun. An' den you hab kits ob your own dat you teach to be 'Tellygint along wif alla udder kits, so dat you love, an' are loved in return.
But bein' OnAlone means dat nobunny loves an cares for you an you don't love or care for nobunny. You have no Warren to be in. You are not part ob sumfing bigger, you don't belong and you are sad an sorrowful an skert.
I know, becos I was OnAlone. An I was sad, an sorrowful an skert all by myself inna box inna V-E-T's office while my furst people drived away.
An' whut were dey finkin', leebin me dere? Dat da V-E-T wanted me? He didn't. He didn't want an extry rabbit. He issa doctor to care for sik bunnies, dawgs an ebben catz an make dem well again. He doesn't need to hab an extry well-bunny to feed.
I guess does furst people wanted me dead. Cos dat happins a lot at V-E-T's. Cos dere is no room for extry bunnies. No Warrens to take us in, no places for us to sleep, no udder bunnies to teach us, no critters to welcome us.
An' so we are sent off toda Rainbow Bridge by ourselves, to find our way inna darkness. Mebbe you don't see it, but afta ebbery Easter, dere is a crowd of berry liddle bunnies, all skert an' alone, wiffoud Mawmies, all OnAlone, an dey are runnin, an hidin' an wide-eyed an' terryfied - poor widdle lost souls dashing through the cold an' nighttime, not knowing where they are fleeing to unable to turn back and afraid to go forward. Behind dem is Terror, ahead lies Fear an so dey run for dere lives.
An' ahead ob them issa Bridge an' it is high an white shining against the darkness obba sky, like a thin strand of moonlight stretched across black velvet. An skert as they are, the tiny bunnies run toward it, becos it is the onliest place to run.
You can't know whut it's like. You can't imagine it, but I can. It is the nightmare born in every liddle bunny's waking dream as soon as a breeder-person takes us frum our Mawmies. We are OnAlone just as the Werld comes innu focus, an OnAlone inna pet stores winders, an OnAlone in tiny cages, OnAlone as some starve to death, or are hurted to death, or who are let go inna wilderness obba city park wif predators wiffa nightmares obba silver moonlight Bridge stretched acrosst da Void anna cries ob tiny bunies ringing in our ears.
An' I had those nightmares, too, until I managed to get heer. When I finally got heer, I met Hunny, an Poet, an 'speshully Belinda, an they all told me dat da Bridge is notta nightmare, dat onna udderside ob it there issa Meadow wif alla bunnies who hab ebber libbed, all playin' inna sun. An' Hunny sed dat The Bridge issa place where old buns go to feel young, an' where sik buns go to get well.
But if I hadn't been rescued, you see, I nebber would have knowed dis. I nebber wuld hab had enny teachers, nebber wuld hab had friends an rewayshuns, an no Maman or Dadda. I wuld nebber hab learned dat da Bridge wassa good place, an dat it is pawt obba Cyrkil ob Life, an dat I don't hab to be afraid ebber again.
Becos I was rescued.
Maman came an took me away inna box an brought me to Our Warren, where I'm notta Easter Bunny enny more. I am George, George ob Our Warren.
So, you see, dere shuld be no more Easter Bunnies wike me. No bunnies shuld be sold as "presents". Dere are udder fings dat make presents at Easter Time, an' heer issa pickhure ob my friend, Clementine (he libs in Texas) wif some ob the GOODgifts to gib at Easter.
So, go ahead an gib candy for Easter, an gib sombun a plush, stuffed bunny toy for Easter, but please, please, please don't buy a living bunny as a toy.
We are not toys.
We are like you -
Living, breathing Memebers of God's Great Warren,
Alla Us Togedder, NoBunny OnAlone.
------ By George