…and she’s one of the lucky ones.
Finelli moves a bunny in Gainesville Rabbit Rescue’s Bunny Barn, where dozens of rabbits saved from unfortunate situations live.
Dec. 16, 2022 | Story by Uma Raja | Photos by Anderson Bobo
This article is part of Atrium’s Winter 2022 issue. To view the print edition online, visit our Issuu here.
If a rabbit makes one mistake, it’s dead. Life is brutal for these innocent creatures, who serve as the perfect entrée for almost every predator and are constantly abused and neglected as pets.
I should know. I’ve fostered two rabbits since 2019 and am now a mom to Cocoa.
A phrase I often hear: “There’s a rabbit on your couch. A big rabbit.”
For the record, Cocoa isn’t big; she’s fluffy. But I don’t know why anyone would comment on a lady’s weight in the first place.
There are a lot of things people find surprising about Cocoa. Instead of sleeping in a cage or an outdoor hutch, she roams freely around my apartment. She lives like a princess in her castle-shaped home and naps in my sock drawer. She’s fully litter-box-trained and hops around the furniture as she pleases. She demands head pats with a gentle nuzzle and shows her gratitude with tiny kisses. Cocoa even had her own birthday party with a strict bunny-ear dress code.
While Cocoa is now living the life of the rabbit bourgeoisie, her story wasn’t always endearing. She escaped a hoarding situation in which 60 neglected rabbits lived in a cramped backyard, constantly breeding. Many dug under the fence and were hit by cars.
Cocoa got lucky. The nonprofit Gainesville Rabbit Rescue plucked her from the yard and brought her to the Bunny Barn in nearby Williston, where Cocoa gave birth to her eight babies.
Visiting the Bunny Barn entails a peaceful drive past pastures of grazing cattle. The quaint blue barn is embellished with rabbit-themed decor. Sunlight beams through the leaves of broad oak trees. A cat reclines on a tree stump, its tail swishing with curiosity. Peacocks strut by like rulers of a palace, and a miniature horse whinnies from the backyard.
Entering the barn, the crisp scent of hay hits your nose. You might be surprised to see 42 rabbit cages filled with creatures that are both silent and odorless. There are bunnies of every size and color, from Rooster, the 5-pound Dutch rabbit, to Mushroom, the 13-pound Flemish giant. Some cages are adorned with badges that read “I BITE” or “NO EXERCISE.” Many rabbits splay their legs out in relaxation. Others slumber with their paws tucked beneath them like loaves of bread. Babies, no bigger than the palm of your hand, hop into the air with cartoonish enthusiasm. An albino rabbit watches you with ruby-red eyes and a twitching nose.
Gainesville Rabbit Rescue saved 13 bunnies, including four brown-and-white Dutch rabbits, after their breeder threatened to kill them if they were not rescued.
Kathy Finelli, the director of the group, says Cocoa’s rescue was a labor of love. The organization runs on a team of volunteers. They don’t get paid for what they do; instead, they get rewarded with bunny affection.
“Once they get to know you, when you walk around, they come to you,” Finelli says. “They’re just happy to see you.”
Finelli became charmed by bunnies two decades ago, when she found a domestic rabbit wandering in her backyard. She joined Gainesville Rabbit Rescue in 2002, and since then, she has made rabbit welfare her life’s mission.
The organization was founded by two University of Florida students in 1998. Cages were added to an unused horse barn, and it became the base for the nonprofit in 2014.
Gainesville Rabbit Rescue spays, neuters and litter-box trains all its rabbits. Adopting one costs $100. Rabbits are considered exotic pets, so it’s a bargain considering that spaying a female can cost up to $400. The rescue loses money on every adoption, but the monetary deficit is a small price to pay for the well-being of these underrated companions.
Finelli says that one of the main misconceptions people have about rabbits is that they’re not as intelligent as cats or dogs.
“I feel the opposite; they might be even smarter,” Finelli says. “If a cat or a dog makes a mistake, they go hungry. As the prey animal, if a rabbit makes the mistake, they’re dead.”
In order to stay alive, Finelli says rabbits need to constantly outsmart predators. So, contrary to popular belief, they are highly intelligent, as well as social and quiet, which makes them ideal pets.
Kathy Finelli joined Gainesville Rabbit Rescue in 2002 and has been the director for the past eight years. Finelli found a domestic rabbit in her backyard 20 years ago, who she named Mr. Bunny. That chance encounter started a lifelong passion for rabbit activism.
I can attest that a rabbit’s curiosity often gets them into trouble. Before I adopted Cocoa, I fostered a tiny Netherland Dwarf bunny named Mochi. She had bright blue eyes and was found running loose in a park. Mochi was terrified of people. Watching her flop on the ground and expose her belly to me, the ultimate form of trust in a rabbit, flooded my mind with joy.
One day, I woke up and Mochi had vanished from my apartment. I frantically rearranged all my furniture and even called the Gainesville Police Department to file a stolen pet report.
As I taped lost pet posters around my apartment complex with tears in my eyes, I was surprised to find a large hand gently resting on my shoulder. I turned to see a typical fraternity gym bro, decked out in a muscle tee and a baseball hat worn backward.
“Hey,” he said with genuine kindness. “I really hope that you find your rabbit.”
The next day, a police officer arrived to ask questions about Mochi’s whereabouts. As I spoke to him, we heard a soft scraping noise coming from inside the wall. The police officer crawled on his stomach and relied on touch to detect a minuscule hole underneath my cabinet, invisible to the eye. He pried open the wooden baseboard, and there was Mochi — stuck inside the hole, a little dehydrated, but otherwise fine.
Mochi was adopted by a loving owner one week later. A year after her adoption, I visited her at her new home, where she greeted me with three little kisses.
Fostering Mochi and Cocoa were some of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. Gainesville Rabbit Rescue can have up to 110 rabbits at a time, and they rely on fosters to make sure there’s room in the shelter. The rescue is constantly at capacity. One rabbit leaves, another comes in. It doesn’t help that rabbits, notorious for their breeding, can become pregnant again the day they give birth.
The most common reason rabbits end up at the Bunny Barn is because owners surrender their pet shop bunnies. Two months after Easter, the shelter deals with an influx of rabbits from children who would’ve been better off with a stuffed toy.
However, many families do take in rabbits as their forever pets — and for good reason. Rabbits are known to thump in the middle of the night to warn their families about burglars or house fires.
“When you have a rabbit, they become family, and families warn each other about danger,” Finelli says.
Cocoa is truly a part of my family. She is there for me during breakups and when my eyes burn from studying for final exams. She was beside me when I drove home from college to quarantine for the pandemic, my stomach tied in knots of anxiety. But most of all, she was there for me when my mom unexpectedly died in April 2022, three weeks before my college graduation.
My mom, who I playfully called Cocoa’s grandma, had a special bond with her fluffy grandbaby. Cocoa would leap out from under my bed to greet her and kiss her gently on the nose. My mom learned all of Cocoa’s favorite foods and how to clean her litter box. She would take time out of her schedule to play with her throughout the day.
When the grief is overwhelming, I pick Cocoa up and hold her close to my chest, breathing in the sweet smell of her fur. Her size and weight are just like a newborn baby’s. She looks at me with big brown eyes. I think about how although my mom will not meet her grandchildren, I am so glad she got to meet Cocoa.
I look at Cocoa, and I often wonder how something so innocent and pure can exist within a world so cruel and callous. That is why I love rabbits. They are a reminder that life can be composed of wonderful things; that there will always be a reason to keep going despite the pain. When I open the door, Cocoa springs into the air with excitement just to see me.
My mom showed me what it meant to be loved unconditionally. So does Cocoa. I am grateful to Gainesville Rabbit Rescue for saving my best friend. I am grateful for the joy my beautiful rabbit has brought into my life. From an overcrowded backyard, to a castle fit for a queen.