Sponk is a chaos rabbit.
Most rabbits I have lived with are the perfect pets. This is a secret few people seem to know. Rabbits hop around being bunnies. They make you laugh constantly. They have completely unique personalities, proclivities. They poo where you’d hope they do (and then you have finished compost to use where you want). They sometimes give you little kisses. They make absurd shapes. They flop and yawn and play with things and snuggle each other like snuggling bunny calendar bunnies. Bunnies are an adorable and enduring part of my life and it is good, and almost all bunnies are easy; then, there is Sponk.
Sponk is a reminder of primordial chaos. He is a young bun who behaves randomly. Nothing is that Sponk cannot return to compost. All is futile, says Sponk. Sleep is futile: he dances loudly at 4am, hurling his body into little explosions, throwing cardboard boxes in the air, chewing the supports of the loft bed above him that you are sleeping on. Possessions are futile: he finds them and eats them. Anger is futile: you want to be mad at him after not sleeping and finding he destroyed your permaculture maps, and then you see how absurd his shapes are and how he’s a big baby.
Sponk returns it all to zero and then takes a nap. Good job Sponk. We love you.