Nobody has claimed the bunny. Nobody has called the local shelter or the police to report a missing fluffy wabbit. Nobody has read the neighbourhood mailing list to thrill at the retrieval of their beloved pet. Nobody has posted "Wanted: Woolly lap-warmer" signs on nearby lampposts. Maybe BunBun escaped from indentured servitude or a mitten factory, or a house with no phones and no internet.
First thing this morning, we rang the local shelter and ascertained that they would take the bunny later in the day. It's a no-kill shelter, lest anyone accuse us of heartlessness, and will keep him until he's claimed, or adopted if nobody claims him within a reasonable time. Once that was done, I felt it was safe to let the children know there was an animal on the premises.
They were excited to hear there was a surprise - that we would not be keeping - in the basement, but once they saw it they were understandably puzzled.
"It's a dog!"
"It's a cat!"
"Here, BunBun!" I said, trying to coax the fluffball out of its cage so we could change his newspaper.
"It's a ... bunny?"
We took BunBun upstairs for a look around.
I think B was the one most taken with the rabbit.
"You love him!" I accused.
"He's just so fluffy," replied my very macho husband, cradling him like a baby.
So this afternoon, BunBun (Bunster, says Dash) went to the shelter. We might visit him in a few days' time, but we're not planning to adopt him when and if he comes on the market. I really hope he finds his family. For one thing, I want to know what his name is.
It's probably Arthur.