And now I have a rabbit, a singularly self-possessed rabbit, a lady, huddled in her hutch, white with black splotches, staring wide-eyed at the shenanigans of a strange world, her name trumpeted before her—Wilhelmina, a queen's name I think—with a full scale biography accompanying her beginning with her unsung birth behind the 3 Brothers Pizza place. Before she was released from her previous home and owners I had to agree not to eat her. (Now, would I eat a queen? Really!) Of course I agreed despite the fond memory of my grandmother's rabbit tomato sauce that still lingers on my palate. When she arrived she seemed the sweetest, unassuming creature I had ever seen, and that she is. I changed her name to Gina Regina because she's Italian now, and still a queen.

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