My rabbit is one of the cutest animals I have ever seen (in my perfectly non-biased opinion). His name, Midnight, usually reflects his fur, which turns out to be a mixture of chocolate browns and golds in the summer, so it’s not entirely accurate year round. I promise, I’ll rename him someday, and his new name shall be Charlie McFarlough. It took Midnight some time, as he’s a naturally suspicious rabbit, but eventually, I got him to like and even trust me. Now, I’m not so sure that’s such a good thing, because he loves (craves) attention. Actually, there are, as far as I know, only two things he likes: being petted over and over for long periods of time, and eating. Eating. Eating all the time. Whenever I’m around, he stops whatever he’s doing and flops down on the ground with such a pitiful look on his face, I can’t help but sit next to him and stroke his soft fur for a long, long time. Oh, he knows what he’s doing, the little con artist.