Four years ago, on my 21st birthday, my dad asked the classic parent question: “What do you want for your birthday?”

Without hesitation, I declared, “A bunny.”

To which he replied, absolutely not, in the same tone you’d use if someone asked to keep a crocodile in the bathtub. “Who’s going to look after it?” he asked, clearly forgetting I was now a legal adult (with the maturity of a hungover toddler, but still).

I made grand promises, I’d keep the house clean, feed it, water it, make sure it didn’t die, you know, all the usual lies we tell when we want something fluffy. After a solid back-and-forth argument (aka me whining for 3 hours), he was still saying no.

So I pulled out the ultimate weapon: complete silence and puppy-dog eyes. I stopped speaking. Full-on dramatic soap opera mode. My dad, like many unsuspecting fathers before him, couldn’t handle the emotional blackmail.

So off we went to the pet shop.

The Bunny Plot Twist

The original plan was to buy one bunny. Simple. Minimal chaos. Maximum fluff. But of course, when we arrived, there were only two left, twin brother and sister. And when we picked one, the other literally had a meltdown. Screaming, thumping, bunny tantrum the whole dramatic shebang.

We couldn’t leave one behind. “We’re not monsters“

So we bought two. And we brought them home. 🎉

They were the most adorable little creatures you’ve ever seen for about five minutes. Then the chaos began.

Bunnies Are Cute Until They Eat Your Sofa

Here’s what I didn’t think about: destruction. Absolute, full-scale bunpocalypse.

They chewed every single wire they could find. Ate the leather sofa. Tore up the rug. Munched on my plants like it was a five-star salad bar.

The first two years were like living with tiny, fluffy wrecking balls. We weren’t prepared emotionally, (financially), or mentally. Every day was a new surprise.

The Bunny-Proof Era

Fast forward four years and, after a journey of suffering, we’ve finally figured it out. The house is now bunny-proof, we’ve bought a new sofa for $2,000 (still crying), and replaced the rug (who knows how much that cost, I’ve blocked it from memory).

They’re slightly tamer now. Still sassy. Still won’t let you touch them. But oh, they’re adorable as long as you don’t mind just looking at them like royalty that refuses to be petted.

Lessons Learned: Ask for Cake, Not Creatures

After that year, I became extremely careful about what I asked for on my birthday. Lesson learned: if it poops and chews through wires, maybe it’s not a “gift” it’s a lifestyle choice.

I love them to death, but let’s be honest they’re a full-time job. A massive chunk of my life now revolves around two tiny furballs who don’t pay rent.

Oh, and whenever we go on holiday, we check them into an animal hotel. And guess what? We pay almost the same amount as our own hotel stay. That’s right. My rabbits are out here living a luxury life while I’m wondering if I can afford room service.

Final Thoughts from a Bunny Mum

So yes, getting bunnies was the best-worst decision of my life. If you’re thinking of getting one because they’re cute and fluffy, allow me to burst your bubble with some hard truths and a chewed-up power cable.

But hey, at least I’ve got a good story. And a new sofa. And two judgemental bunnies staring at me as I write this.

Happy Monday from Japan! 

How’s your Monday going? I’ve already cleaned bunny poop and wrestled with a chewed charger. Living the dream.

Loads of Luv

Hannah

IG: @boundless.pages25

PS; their name are Snow and Snowy (but they are brown), story for another time x