My Little Helper

Raising a bunny is like raising a child. One that you don’t have to hire a babysitter for.
I can’t eat an apple without Finnick feeling the need to help me out.
I can’t cook without him wanting to help get the ingredients from the fridge (he tries really hard).
My favorite though, is cleaning his cage… Usually cleaning animal cages is a pretty miserable job. Not Finnick. He has to be right in the middle of his mess, getting into his bags of hay, his bag of bedding, and his litter bag.
For a bunny who pretends to be all tough, he is really just a small child. And he’s growing up so fast… He’s already 8 weeks old, and getting so big. :’)


How My Life Has Changed Since Finnick

Last week, I adopted a bunny. He is almost seven weeks old now. I thought I was adopting a cute and furry little pet. This was not the case. Not at all.
What I brought home with me is part cat, part dog, and part calf, with the look of a lionhead rabbit.
Finnick Peter O’Reilly thinks he owns every single thing he looks at, including me. He explores every tiny little detail of my apartment daily to make sure everything is in it’s proper place. This includes the bookshelf by the window and shoe rack in my closet. Thus, he is part cat. I get up from my seat? You can guarantee he claims that spot within thirty seconds. You put a book or laptop down? He’s got to crawl over it and inspect it to make sure you’re following his rules. (Those consist of “don’t you dare pay attention to anything but me right now.”) He also has to stick his face in every text message. I’m pretty confident he is reading them to make sure I’m not making plans to leave him.
The dog part of his personality is because he is beyond loving. He refuses to admit it (and we’ve discussed this several times), but he adores being around people. If you are in the room, he will not leave your area until you walk away. He will wander and explore, but that includes crawling ALL over you and loving and sniffing you. He is currently curled up right next to my leg as I write this. He won’t get too close, but he had to make sure he is touching me.
If you’ve ever seen a baby calf kick up it’s heels when it is frolicking in the pasture, you will understand Finnick’s calf personality. He gets random spurts of energy (quite often, really) where he just SPRINTS laps around the apartment, whips around objects like a barrel racing horse, and kicks up his heels in the middle of the room and randomly changes direction. Not to spoil the fun, he runs into things. A lot. He’ll be booking it across the apartment, turn, and knock himself down on my bed. Then he hops right back up and does it the other direction.
He is incredibly smart though. He knows the command “kennel up.” Unfortunately, he also has very selective hearing. When you say it, he often turns around and pretends to be interested in whatever is nearest him. Even if that is only the floor.
With this all being said, I did not bring home a pet last week when I brought home my baby bunny. I brought home a new family member. ❤

Enter Mr. Finnick Peter O’Reilly

Yesterday, I went to the pet store to look at all the cute animals. I didn’t have any intentions of buying one because of course, I am a rational, poor college kid. Until I met this guy. I was watching his brother hopping around in the cage and I asked to see him. Unfortunately, some lady had asked literally the minute before, and she bought that one. So I got to hold this little gentleman. And I fell in love with him. So, I spent waaaay too much money buying things for him, and now he is happily settled in my home.
Now begins the litter box training.

I set him in his litter box yesterday. And he sat there for literally five minutes like he was on time out. I had to tell him he could leave before he started adventuring again.

This is a post-adventure picture. He literally crawls on everything and has explored every nook and cranny of my apartment. Also, he randomly gets excited and kicks up his little bunny heels and darts to the other end of the room before coming to a complete halt. I suspect he may be a cat with long ears when he does this.

He also likes to jump on my back and run up and down, then randomly flop down and watch tv. Which leaves me laying there like “Heyy buddy, I was just gonna go get some cereal, you gonna be there a while?”
To which he responds, “Obviously, Human, you are mine and you do what I tell you. Now change the channel.”
But really, I call him Finnick (I just gave him his full name today. It was a lot of work finding he perfect one) and he calls me Meg. We will love each other til death do us part. (: I hope you love him too.



It hurts so bad you don’t even feel the pain.

You just feel numb.


Because it’s your fault.

You did this to yourself,

And you can’t take any of it back.

You can only leave…

But what’s this?

Clutching your ankles, clinging to your wrists…


Pulling you back.

Not allowing you to leave the one place you so desperately need to


Your nails tear to jagged edges,

your fingers bleed,

as you claw the ground,

wearing yourself down as you try to break the iron grip.




you give up the struggle.

They drag you back.

You can only wait.

Biding your time.

Waiting for your wings.