Three years ago I first approached the Milwaukee shelter to volunteer with the rabbits. Many reasons were given why no such program existed and why it would be impossible to start one. After repeatedly striking out in one office, I tried another. The education department showed some interest, but the educators had no authority to create a new volunteer program. Although I had entered the shelter with plans to exercise, socialize and groom the rabbits, I ended up agreeing to present a slide lecture instead. Luckily the first house rabbit seminar was well attended. A door had opened. Today the seminars continue. Finally, three years later, a volunteer program has been started. Never mind that there is only one volunteer. It is a start, a small, bittersweet victory.

It is exciting to witness humans change their perceptions of rabbits. I know this is happening when I watch the shelter staff watch the rabbits. They stand spellbound and laugh as the rabbits take turns digging in a hay box or dancing on the mats which are set up for their play time. Sometimes, they will get down onto the floor drawn by the magic of the bunnies. The rabbits now have toys in their cages. They have willow wreaths and hay to chew on. Today I watched them eat carrots. It was the first time for most; sadly, it may be the last time for some. But isn't once better than never?

Last week two rabbits were at the shelter. Today there were twelve; every cage was occupied. Earlier this week one of the cages held a litter of seven babies. No one has mentioned what happened to the nosy black and white bun that climbed all over me last week. I did not have the courage to ask. Nor could I ask about the five guinea pigs that were housed in the same area last week but were nowhere tin sight today. I know that I must focus on the ones who do find homes if I am to avoid the hazard of burnout.

Still, knowing that many of these rabbits will be euthanized makes working with them painful. It's also wonderful to spend time in their company, no matter how few or brief the encounters. I wonder whether I'm imagining that the rabbits sense an urgency to squeeze a whole lifetime into their few days at the shelter. Most give their new play space a cursory check rather than a thorough inspection before getting down to the business of play. Many seem instantly comfortable with this unfamiliar space. Most act like we are old friends the moment we meet, skipping the get-to-know-you phase. Few bother to warm up before the aerobics begin. Do they know that they have no time to waste?

Sometimes I feel as if I am watching terminally ill patients spending one glorious last day at the playground. But these rabbits are not ill. They suffer and die because of human shortcomings: impulsiveness, lack of commitment, greed, and selfishness. They deserve so much more.

As I watch the rabbits at the shelter I know there is something wrong with a world that allows these animals to come into it so easily and go out so quickly. Most of the rabbits only have a moment. But there is reason for hope. If change can come to an overcrowded city shelter, it can happen anywhere. Change can make the world right again.

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