here is my furry friend ; 
Hey, DL ... we got my oldest daughter a bunny for Easter one year when she was young, and it ended up being a great pet. It immediately used the litter box and was a lot less smelly than our indoor cat, though it liked to chew on furniture, (which was the ultimate reason we had to get rid of it to a good family).
When I was growing up, my brother, sister and I were always bringing home orphans - rabbits, squirrels, woodchucks, my favorites were three baby flying squirrels we found, one died, but the other two grew, became great pets, and we let them go in a line of trees by our house. I would come home from school each afternoon, make this little call, and they'd come jumping from tree-to-tree, sit on my shoulder, and I'd feed them. They eventually ended up as part of the road, though we didn't have the heart to check "close-up".
The best pet I've ever had, (other than my dogs and present Tom cat, who's just a massive, unaffectionate, major tree-climber ... and my best buddy), was a skunk that had it's glands removed. It was white with a black stripe and we got it when it was a baby. You can have them in Maine, but you can't buy or sell them here. We got ours in New Hampshire, as I recall, or Vermont, and it was such an affectionate, happy little creature. Loved to be around people and cats, (I think it thought it WAS a cat at times), and we'd go to these skunk conventions where everyone would bring theirs to show off. I never knew skunks came in so many different colors and varieties, or that they were so popular, but I've always wanted one since.
We had ours for 11 years and finally had to put it down, as it had cancer. I think, when my present buddy, Cosby, has "moved on", that I'll get another "stinkless" skunk. I could never get one now ... Cosby was a stray, he showed up freezing and starving one Novenmber and adopted me, and he's huge ... 21 pounds and he thinks every living thing his size or smaller was intended for his amusement, to attack or kill, and a skunk without it's protection wouldn't stand a chance. He spends hours in trees, just waiting for little climbing or flying things to come and feed him, and they
do, and the entrails usually end up on my "Welcome" mat, where they present an ever-so-pungent welcoming gift for the mailman or any visitor that comes to the door.
I'll never forget, not long ago when I had gone to the door to meet the mailman, as I had a couple packages to sign for. He was standing there waiting for me, and looked down at the mat ... there, squirming on the welcome mat was a night-crawler, which he found compelling enough to pick up, as night-crawlers just don't normally come out in the daytime, let alone to set in the sun, squirming on a welcome mat.
So, while the mailman is looking at this "night-crawler" and puzzling as to it's seemingly bizarre daytime appearance, the true horror of the situation hits me. This little "worm" that he was holding and studying so closely, was not a worm at all, but the fresh, still-writhing intestinal remnants of some little hapless creature that Cosby had recently killed and left so thoughtfully on my mat, for the next human to come along where they could no doubt appreciate his hunting skills.
Needless to say that about the same time this realization came to
me, the mailman had begun to grasp the nature of this nightmare as well, and was not amused in the least. Grown-men screaming like little girls is not a pleasant sound, no matter what the factors involved, and the sound of him that day still echos in my mind, and haunts my memory. As I recall, he was back inside the safety of his mail truck before his screams had stopped, and never looked back!
This was the last time that this particular mail-carrier ever spoke to me in what can be considered a "friendly" tone, and every time he dropped the mail off after that, he would look down at the mat, look around for my all-black Tom-cat, Cosby, and make this grunt, all the while his lip curling ever so slightly. After the mail was safely in it's box by the door, he'd walk away shaking his head and shivering, and glancing around for the cat .... or maybe some other horrible little gift left lying on the property.
Well, that mailman has been replaced, but I like to think that, wherever he is, there's a warm spot in his heart for the thoughtful little gift that Cosby left him that afternoon, and that every time he spots a similar welcome mat, he'll remember that special day when an over-sized, grumpy but well-intended Tom-cat, taught him the true meaning of "never judge a book by it's cover" ... or a "worm" by it's squirm, so to speak.
