When I was growing up, we had a bunny. Her name was Roxy and she was pretty much the devil's spawn. She was the daughter of two wild bunnies and as such, was never tame and had a habit of running away. There were many nights spent in the backyard with the badminton net trying to trap her. She was more of an experiment of a pet. She died about three years ago and we didn't replace her.... until recently.
My brother and mum were at the local animal shelter when my brother saw a big, furry bunny in the window of one of the rooms. He wasn't moving around much and when they asked the volunteer about him, she said that the bunny had lost half of his front leg in an injury.
They felt in love with him immediately and two days later, he was ours.
After a vigorous voting process with many name options (Ramsy, Floppsy, Elliot, Yeger and Mr. Nosey were the top five), we eventually landed on Elliot.
|Curious bunny. He kept poking my camera.|
|Relaxing by the fire.|