Once upon a time a long long time ago (when I was 9 years old) we had a cat named Figaro. Unfortunately Figaro did not have a very good life with small children, so eventually she began to protest by using the whole house as her personal litter box. Never dealing well with a fecal challenge, my mother unceremoniously announces to my brother (Danny) & I that she sent our beloved (though horribly mistreated) white cat to a place of no return. After many hysterical tears, I did not speak to my mother for several days.

Just a few years later (I am now 11 years old), my younger sister has this pet white rabbit (Snowflake) who has a little eating problem where her teeth don't grow or work right. So unfortunately poor Snowflake cannot eat without hand-feeding.

One day my sister, brother and I arrive home from school to the smell of freshly baked cookies, the happy sounds of Simon and Garfunkel are playing in the background, and my mother asks us to all sit down in a nice friendly circle in the kitchen. Relaxed and calm we each get a cookie (or two) and my mother begins the story of Snowflake and how she took her to the vet to figure out a way to help her eat. As it turned out the vet knew of this little old man who lived on a place called Bunny Island where he took in and cared for pets with special needs. As my mother explained, she immediately handed Snowflake over to this vet to go to the little old man and the many other friendly bunnies on Bunny Island to ensure that Snowflake would have the best possible life and we would never have to worry that the bunny was getting properly fed. Happy in the knowledge that Snowflake was in a wonderful place with many friends and a little old man to take care of her, my brother, sister & I ate more cookies and then watched cartoons.

So lets fast-forward a bit... and maybe a bit more... I am now 22. I am taking a gap year after college in New York where Danny (now age 20 and has revised his name to Dan) is also attending film school at NYU. One afternoon I am chatting with my sister on the phone about all our family pets and we talk about how poorly my mother handled the removal of Figaro from our home, but how wonderful it is that Snowflake moved to live with a little old man and that wonderful place called Bunny Island. My sister noted that she had not noticed exit off of I-80 for... that wonderful place where Snowflake went called Bunny Island... oh...ooo...oh no. Ugh. There was suddenly a lot of silence as we realized the true meaning of Bunny Island.

I decided to check in with Dan to see if he was maybe a bit more intellectually advanced than his sisters. So I asked him if he remembered where Snowflake the white bunny of more than 10 years ago lived.... "Oh definitely" Dan replied, "Snowflake lives on a little island...with an old...man....oooo ugh".