The Story of The Travel Bunny

Ottawa Bunny

Have I told you the tale of the Travel Bunny? Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

One Easter weekend, a long long time ago, I was in the magical Town of King’s visiting my mother.

I was very poor. I was attending university and all my funds had gone into paying for my classes and the cold, dingy hovel I shared with 4 other students and 3 UNIX boxes.

Food was scarce and money was scarcer, but I had scrapped together enough pennies to get me to my mother’s house for this important celebration of hams and lambs, of eggs and bunnies and chocolate.

When I arrived, I told my mother of my empty wallet and pillaged pantry.  I asked, if once, just this once, she could set aside the seasonal trimmings and perhaps use the money saved on less delightful diversions such as provisions that would keep me from starving.

Now my dear mother, who always made sure that I got my fair share of the season’s hams and lambs, eggs and bunnies and chocolates, was quite concerned.   

“It’s Easter,” she despaired, “how can you celebrate without hams and lambs, eggs and bunnies and chocolate?”

“I will just have to make do,” I said stoically, trying not to be drawn into her despair, “I really do need groceries more than chocolate.”

She fretted and worried, worried and fretted all weekend.  Concerned that somehow the blessings of the season would pass me by if I did without hams and lambs, eggs and b… well you know the rest.

When it was finally time for me to prepare to leave, we headed down to the store to select provisions for my return.  As she was preparing to pay, she spotted a Gund.  “Aha,” she thought craftily, “not really a ham, or a lamb, or an egg, or a bunny or even chocolate. It’s actually more like a bear, but it is cuddly and warm.  I wonder if I could sneak this into my daughters provisions without her noticing.”

At this point, I was standing outside attempting not to feel guilty that I had ruined my mother’s holiday joy.  I looked up and there, the window — not a ham, not a lamb, not an egg or a chocolate – but a bunny.  A bunny that seemed to be calling to me… “Hey! You!  Yes, you with the stupid look on your face!  Get me out of this stinkin’ window would’ya?”

Not really a classy bunny.  More direct and kind of rude but familiar in a way.  Kind of reminiscent of… yes, that’s it, a cat with some boots I’d heard of.

I rushed into the store, not quite sure what to do, when my mother turned around guiltily holding the Gund.  “Ah, er, um,” she sputtered, holding it out towards me, “it’s cute don’t you think?  I simply couldn’t get you nothing.”

I pointed to the bunny in the window, my mother donned an outrageous grin. “A bunny it is then,” she said grabbing him from the window.

And just hours later the Travel Bunny and I were on our first adventure, returning to our hovel, our pack filled with provisions.

Or, more succinctly:

my mom bought him for me one Easter and I photograph him when I travel.

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