He stares at me, eyes wide, slowly blinking. I can tell he's judging my every move, staring at what feels like my very soul, making sure I don't disturb him too much. I never thought we'd be friends, considering he's not my type at all, but somehow, we've ended up together.

His nose twitches slightly; he stands on his hind legs for just a second, and then jumps onto the bed.

I've always liked animals, but that doesn't mean I've really wanted to be this close to them. I like dogs, puppies especially, and kittens are alright, but anything else I like to see firmly secured somewhere I know they can't bite me.

So how did I end up babysitting a bunny?

The fish in my apartment can attest, I'm not so great at the whole 'let's babysit the animal thing.' Really, it took a year for him and I to finally warm up to one another, and that's only because my roommates had left town and I felt bad that he hadn't eaten. Again, I have no problems with animals, but I just think most of them belong behind cage bars.

It's a funny thing however, this little guy. I haven't had much experience with bunnies in general, so he's a guinea pig in the scheme of things. I've seen wild rabbits before, but they're skittish creatures, and I'm sure if I had gotten close enough they would've bitten me.

Speaking of bite, this little guy knows how to use his teeth. It only feels like a pinch, but when he's not having it, he's not having it at all. Especially when I try to take him for a walk; he does not like having to wear a leash (yes, I was shocked too that bunnies can apparently be walked, it's pretty funny!).

To be fair, I think he's only jumped up onto my bed not for me, but for the comfy pillows that I keep for decoration. He seems to like me well enough, but is also a bit unsure, as though he can see my hesitation and thinks it is better if he just avoids me all together. Joke's on him though; I'm the one who has to refill his food.

On the other hand, joke's on me, because at night in his cage, he refuses to calm down. At 2 a.m. I can hear him, stomping away to some inaudible beat. At 5 a.m. I can hear him munching on the carrot I left for him as a treat. It's pretty annoying, and I let him know with a sharp rebuke; he stops only for a second, before continuing on doing whatever he wanted to do in the first place.

So, here I am. I'm not an animal person, but I'm now in charge of this three-pound, spotted bunny, whose cute and cuddliness is wearing off when I realize he's snuck out of his cage, again, and could literally be anywhere.