Say hello to Francis–and then listen to me on my soapbox

This is my rabbit, Francis. Should I have spelled his name Frances? Yes, but it’s too late because I already told the vet to spell it the first way. His prescription bottle basically acts as his birth certificate. It’s the only concrete evidence that he even exists.

I love my rabbit, to everyone’s dismay; my family’s, my boyfriend’s, my friends’, past coworkers, etc. etc. But I really don’t care, because he is hilarious, potty-trained, and mommy’s favorite boy!

I won’t go into details about the nature of rabbits, how misunderstood they are, what great pets they make…I’m already getting carried away…so I will just say that if your are thinking about getting a rabbit, please read up on them first. There is a wealth off information on them on the internet, like: AND because I spend so much time reading about rabbits, you can also contact me:

Also, make sure you don’t make the mistake of getting your child a cute rabbit, chick, or [insert Easter creature] for Easter. I mean, you can, no one’s stopping you; however make sure you know that you and your family will be committed to taking care of the animal–they get older, and less baby-fuzzy later on in life. Just make sure you keep that in mind!

The humane society says it better:

There will be more Francis to come

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