Feaster Bunny

Suryakumari Dennison tells you about a lively, adorable pet

Linda was returning to her country. She had been Divya’s neighbour for a year, and was as sorry to leave as Divya was to see her go.

“I’ll miss you, Linda” said Divya, as she watched her friend cram clothes into an overflowing suitcase. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” said Linda, with the drawl that Divya could mimic perfectly, much to the young American’s amusement. “By the way, I have an Easter gift for you.”

That evening, Linda arrived at Divya’s house, cradling what appeared to be a cushion. “Whatever is it?” asked Divya eagerly. “An Easter egg?”

Linda chuckled. “Much too big for that. Try again, Divya.”

“I give up,” said Divya, staring fascinated at the moving ‘cushion’. “Please show it to me.” Linda whisked off a shawl to reveal a small white rabbit.
 “How sweet!” squealed Divya. “May I hold him?” “Of course,” said Linda, handing over the cuddly creature. “He’s yours to keep.”

“What on earth does a rabbit have to do with Easter?” asked Divya. “I can understand eggs and chicks symbolising new life, but rabbits?”

“The Easter Bunny of folklore is believed to bring Easter eggs,” said Linda.

“In this case, of course, Bunny has brought himself.” “Bunny,” Divya repeated, stroking the rabbit’s soft fur. “I’ll call him that, but why is a rabbit called bunny?”

“My teacher explained that bunny comes from bun,” said Linda. “Apparently, that’s an old word for tail. Don’t you think Bunny here has a real cute stumpy one?”

“He’s a darling,” said Divya, “but where do
I keep him?”

“Outside, in the shade,” said Linda. “Rabbits can’t stand much heat. I guess your dad could make a hutch.”

Divya could no more picture her father building a rabbit shelter than climbing Mount Everest. Linda seemed to think that all fathers were like her own diplomat-dad, who washed his car and mowed his lawn, whistling as he worked. “What about feeding him?” asked Divya, whose head was starting to spin, out of excitement — or maybe it was anxiety.

“Plenty of hay and fresh greens,” said Linda promptly. “I know because we used to keep rabbits. Here, let me show you how to handle Bunny, so that his sharp claws and strong kick do not
hurt you.”

After Linda left, Divya’s excitement began to fade. She supposed the gardener could manage a simple cage, but only the following day. Until then, her new pet would have to stay indoors. What if Bunny made a mess? As if aware of Divya’s thoughts, Bunny began to wriggle. Divya put him down for a second, and then — following Linda’s instructions — picked him up by the loose skin at the back of his neck with one hand, and grasped his hind legs firmly with the other.

Carrying Bunny thus, Divya went into the kitchen. Setting him on the floor, she watched him fondly as he explored his strange surroundings, eyes bright, ears erect and nostrils twitching. Divya served Bunny a meal of carrots and shredded cabbage, and as he devoured his food, Divya earnestly hoped that her parents would find him delightful rather than demanding.

When Bunny had finished eating, Divya took him upstairs to her room, and placed him gently on the rug beside her bed. Tired out with her recent exertions, she fell asleep. The next morning, Divya awoke late, relieved that it was Sunday, and there was no school. She looked for Bunny, but he was nowhere to be seen. Divya felt that there was also something else missing, but didn’t quite know what it was. She ran out into the garden, where she could hear her parents laughing.

To Divya’s great joy, they were playing with Bunny, who was nibbling grass as they fussed over him. Raju the gardener was busy with wood and tools, building a rabbit house. He had already made a litter box.

“Then I can keep Bunny?” said Divya, a little anxiously. “Of course, dear,” said her mother. “We were expecting him. Linda asked our permission last week.”

“I’d be grateful,” added Divya’s father, “if you’d keep Bunny away from my clothes.” As Divya looked puzzled, her parents pointed to a scrap of blue material, lying some distance away.

“All that remains of your bedside rug,” said Divya’s mother. “This little fellow chewed it to bits, but that didn’t prevent him from consuming a heavy breakfast. Now, he’s hungry again. Your Easter Bunny might more aptly be named Feaster Bunny!”