Obituaries

Binky made an impact from the moment he came into my life. When I entered my closet one day, two little black eyes looked up at me from among my boots. “There’s a bunny in here!” I exclaimed to @Dan Cooper, who was obviously aware, as he had hand-selected the terrified little fluff ball.

Since we knew next to nothing about how to care for a rabbit, Dan and I did some research, and discovered that when bunnies are really happy, they do this hop-jump thing called a binky. Our Binky did many of those as he got used to his surroundings—but never in our apartment bathroom, where he nervously chewed all the baseboards before we realized he didn’t like tile floors. Wiggle wiggle.

Binky had somewhat of a chewing problem. From our shag carpet to many a phone charger, he loved to make mischief. Yet we could never stay mad long.

We had many memorable moments when Binky was a young bun. There was the time he jumped on Dan’s head in PetSmart when a dog came near. Another time, he snuck a lick of my Skinny Cow ice cream and ran laps on the couch in excitement. There was the night Dan and I were watching TV on the couch when suddenly Dan says, “I think your bunny peed.” “How do you know?” I asked. “My toe is wet!” he said. We still laugh about it to this day (at least one of us).

Binky didn’t say much but was always here to listen, and occasionally stomp his foot to make his opinion known. He was a gentle soul; one time at the vet he befriended a deaf rabbit. He took joy in simple pleasures—munching on giant carrots, downing cilantro, giant stretches, the game of Touch Butt, kicking poop at Steve Irwin, and staying “out” all night with his dad.

He wasn’t much of a traveler and showed it through hunger strikes. He defied death more than once after colliding with my foot on the stairs.

He wasn’t thrilled when we brought Sammy and then Sydney home from the hospital and showed his displeasure by pooping under their cribs. However, once he got to know them, he became their protectors, staying near when they were upset, and playing Circus Bunny when they insisted.

He came to park for picnics, visited preschool for Show and Tell, and reluctantly put up with many unwelcome toddler touches. As he aged, his laps around the house slowed, but he never stopped hopping up on the couch for snuggles on Mom’s belly.

Binky could be shy and didn’t like crowds or loud noises, but he knew he belonged with me. For the past 12 years, he’s been a consistent source of cuddles, noozles, kisses and pets. He had the softest fur and could often be spotted cleaning it in the most adorable manner. He was with me before marriage, before kids, before my job, my house, and many of my friends. Binky, we will miss you endlessly. You are so loved.