Hopper

Hopper was the best pet a boy could ever have.

I once had a rabbit named Hopper.

My father had bought him for me on my birthday.

He was small and all white except for little black spots

on his back. He was a happy little thing, always moving around,

Never once staying in the same place. He liked to hop all day,

hop all night, hop, hop, hop, until he couldn't stop.

 

Hopper was no ordinary rabbit, I was sure.

Other rabbits just sat there, proving to be a bore,

Whilst Hopper sprang about, sniffing the underwear

in my mother's drawers, biting the heads off of flowers in

Grandmother's garden, and trying, but failing miserably to

bite his own stubby tail, twirling and twirling around in circles.

 

I loved playing with Hopper. I loved him like he was my own brother.

Hopper and I were inseparable. I looked out for him and he looked

out for me. We had each others backs. We stuck together like glue.

We would stay together forever, I decided, 'till death do us part.

 

Until one day, I couldn't find him. I looked high, I looked low,

My parents and I searched everywhere we could think of, but

came up with nothing. I was getting really worried, but I willed

myself not to cry. My grandfather once told me that men did

not cry, no matter what happened, so I didn't, because I was

a man and I would find Hopper, I just knew I would.

 

And I was right. I did find Hopper.

 

He was lying in the middle of a street downtown, ripped open,

sliced clean down the middle so that I could see all of his insides.

A pool of blood surrounded his body. His left leg twitched for only a

slight moment before going completely still.

 

I wanted to cry, Oh God I did, but I was afraid of disgracing my grandfather

and the rest of my family. Because, as he told me, men do not cry, no matter

what happened. They stood tall and fierce against the violent wind.

 

And that's what I did: I stood tall, I stood fierce, despite the loss of the dear friend

I called Hopper.

 

Author's Note

The person I'm talking about who had the rabbit was not me. It's just something I made up about a little boy. Please, keep that in mind.

Reviews

[Rose Tyler]

A real man can cry, and show he can feel emotions versus how society wishes men to present themselves as - no emotions but strong willed and able to protect. Societyy's told us that men should not be emotional, or it is a sign of weakness. But really,
Strength is pain leaving the body.

[nono]

AWWW I LOVE BUNNIES LOL! I JUST CHANGED MY NAME TO BUNNY BLUE ON FACEBOOK! AWWW THIS IS AWESOME I LOVE IT I JUST LOVE IT. sorry ta here what happened :'( I cry for you! even if it's made up i crying!

[David W Moore III]

The beginning was filled with so much childish wonder. It was fantastic. And then innocence was lost. and it was sad. And from the beginning boys are taught not to feel, not to show emotion. And then we wonder where are the sensitive men are. (well not me, we, but women) Quite well done.
David

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Oh, I got the little boy reference immediately. Story started out with so much promise of a happy ending, but that came crashing down with a boisterous SPLAT! And you did that well, Kristen.

[Cynthia]

I love this!
That's pretty sad...
That's really emotional and a nice poem!

[Cassiopia Summers]

I think this is absolutely amazing, with the exception of the bunny dying. Ah well. Great poem dear.

[(JR) Joshua Hernandez]

0.0 how sad, i luv rabbits, good story

[deeps]

Ah! this is so emotional and so well written.

[Gianna Perry]

There was so much emotion to this, I really loved it. The lack of a rhyme scheme is only emphasizing how you felt about your rabbit Hopper. The descriptions are also very well written (although about a very sad thing). Overall, this is an excellent poem. Very well written, very meaningful to you, and that's what really matters with poetry, the meaning.

[R E Tree]

I love to hear about peoples pets. I use to have five rabbits can you believe it. All girls I can remember there names Snowy, Pursy, Ebony, Sophie and Donna. My sister came up with the names but sadly Snowy died of poison that was thrown into my garden by our horrible neighbours. Ebony was eaten by a fox. I know this is dreadful thinking about it. Pursy, Sophie and Donna passed away of old age. So I now have a cat he is black but white on his paws. He is a lovely cat but has a bad temper. I called him Max he is also very greedy. At the end of your poem I felt sorry for Hopper poor rabbit. I guess it was a fox, wolf or even a vicious dog that did it