The Dizzying Rise and Tragic Fall of My Rabbit’s Instagram
It was never supposed to be this way.
I adopted my pet rabbit Pillow in early February after being gleefully Instagram-free for nearly three full months. When friends asked me why I’d suspended my account, I told them the truth: It was a time-suck, and more importantly, it made me sad. I hated scrolling through photos of people whose lives looked infinitely more exciting than mine: more romantic, more sun-drenched, and more naturally VSCO’d. I needed a break. After the first couple of weeks, I stopped missing Instagram. If I wanted someone to see a photo, I’d send it to them directly. I was done waiting around for likes. I was free.
But then Pillow bounced into my life, a bright-eyed bunny with a permanent smudged-eyeliner look that was just begging to be ‘grammed. And after some intense coaxing from my friends — none of whom seemed to grasp the full extent of my raging FOMO — @PillowtheBun was created.
The Rules
I had to set some ground rules for myself when starting this account. Personal pics would be limited, and needed to include Pillow. The captions would not be made from Pillow’s “voice.” I would try to post at least once a day. And most importantly, I would not engage in the bizarro, cutesy, pet-netspeak that runs rampant in the world of Instagram animals. Examples: hoomin (human), boonana/nana (banana), and nesquiks (poop). Sadly, I have succumbed to the occasional “everybun.”
Baby’s first Insta. Photo: Instagram/@pillowthebun.
The Debut
Things started off slow, which I expected. The world of Insta-rabbits is already super saturated, and I wondered if Pillow would be able to stand out amongst all those lazy, round-headed lops and angoras with funny haircuts — not to mention the buns whose accounts appear to be run by professional photographers.
But I had to start somewhere. I began by following a ton of rabbit accounts (163 to date). I asked all my Facebook friends to follow Pillow, warning that I wouldn’t be following any of them back. The only hoomin I followed was my mother. Then, armed with a slew of rabbit-related hashtags (#bunny #cute #soft, etc), I posted Pillow’s first Instagram: Her looking completely gorg snuggled up in a fluffy blanket, her permanent black liner accenting her giant marble eyes. It got 21 likes in two hours.
Pillow x Eames. Photo: Instagram/@pillowthebun.
False Starts
The sixth Insta I posted was a video of Pillow on my fake Eames rocking chair, really doing nothing but sniffing the air. It ended up getting 601 views and 292 likes — WAY higher than anything I’d ever gotten on my personal Instagram, on which I’d be lucky to break 11 likes per pic. To this day, the likes on that seconds-long clip keep a-coming. Who knew the combination of clichéd midcentury design and a five-pound bunny could be so unstoppable?
Sadly though, the rocker vid turned out not to be a reflection of the account as a whole being a hit, like I’d initially thought — and a month on, I’ve still yet to mirror the success of that one perfect post. The ones that followed all failed to achieve the same amount of interaction. “Likes” hovered in the twenties, and while no photo ever fell below the magic 11-likes mark (when the usernames get replaced by a more anonymous numeral), it certainly didn’t feel like P and I were on the fast track to Insta-fame — or even the local route.
When not grilling carrots, Bun enjoys a selection of grass hays. Photo: Instagram/@pillowthebun.
Slow and Steady
Things may not have been progressing as swiftly as I’d have liked, but that’s not to say they weren’t moving forward. Our follower count climbed steadily, capping out around 180. But even cute staged pics — like one of Pillow “grilling” baby carrots on a miniature charcoal grill — weren’t getting the kind of attention I felt they deserved. I mean COME ON. A bunny? Cooking carrots? On a TINY BBQ? That’s worthy of at least 100 likes.
The Turning Point
Just like with hoomin kids, “bunny mamas” like to engage their babes in playdates from time to time. P’s first-ever playdate was with a brown lop living in Brooklyn as well, whose parents I know IRL. It was an adorable idea — what could be cuter than two rabbits snuggling and playing? But things didn’t go as smoothly as we’d all hoped. Pillow ended up spending the majority of her “date” eating vast quantities of hay from about four different sources, and showing off her couch jumping skills. And every time she worked up enough courage to approach her proposed playmate, he’d briskly hop towards her, sending them both sliding across the parquet floors in a fit of panic. Meanwhile, we parents spent most of the date trying to snap photos of the buns each time they stood within the same vicinity of one another. Because the only thing better than one bunny on Instagram… is two.
I should probably mention that Pillow’s playmate is much, MUCH more famous on Instagram than P. I’m talking 10K followers-famous. He’s been in the game for almost two years, and evidently, he’s played it right. The photo that resulted from our tense afternoon together — which showed P and Bun 2 munching on hay and lying in a cardboard box respectively, ended up being our most liked still photo of all time — with 131 likes at press time. Bun 2 posted a similar photo, his garnering nearly 500 likes and plenty of comments inquiring about future playdates. Within hours, I’d been followed by 65 more accounts.
We even began receiving “challenge” invitations from other bunny accounts — posts asking P to participate in certain hashtagged challenges, like #IWokeUpLikeThis and #ShowUsYourBestSelfie. How a rabbit takes a selfie, I’m not sure — but I was willing to try.
Yeah, not so much. Photo: Instagram/@pillowthebun.
Backlash
And so Pillow and I were on Insta-Cloud Nine. But as with all types of fame, the more success you achieve, the more people want to take you down. We’ve all seen Behind The Music.
This past Tuesday began like any other day. With the #IWokeUpLikeThis challenge in mind, I went to P’s hutch with my phone in hand, ready to snap her first pic of the morning. Unfortunately, she was too quick for me — and I decided it’d have to wait until another day. So I cleaned out her box and gave her fresh food, and we snuggled and took some cute vids. Then I went to work.
That’s when it happened: Amidst the “likes” for my new ‘gram, I saw two new, paragraph-long comments on a three-week old post, showing P lounging on the floor by her hutch. There were also several private message requests from accounts I didn’t follow, each of them scolding me for having a hutch for Pillow — which I’d (very proudly) built myself. According to the bunny crusaders, this didn’t provide Pillow enough room. About this point, they were very, shall we say, passionate.
I was under attack by the bunny people. My friend soon joined in to come to my defense —and before I knew it, we were involved in a full-fledged Insta-bunny battle.
Sure, I’d seen other accounts get flack, but most of them seemed to keep their pets in small cages throughout the day. Pillow, on the other hand, only sleeps in her hutch at night, and is free-range in my apartment the rest of the time. Furthermore, she seems to enjoy being in there most of the time, hopping onto her top level to chill during the day. But the attackers wouldn’t stop. They directed me to photos of dying, neglected rabbits who lived their lives in tiny boxes and with sore feet and broken bones. It was mean.
She looks happy, right? RIGHT? Photo: Instagram/@pillowthebun.
The Future
Even though I knew they were wrong, the insults and accusations hit me hard. I was distracted at work all day, wanting to go home and have Pillow tell me that she’s happy and that I’m not the world’s worst Bunny Mama (and yes, I’m aware that rabbits can’t talk, thanks though). But the upset was enough to make me consider deleting @PillowtheBun altogether.
For now, things seem to have quieted down on the drama front — though the likes and follows are still on the ups. Is the potential fame worth the potential torment? I’m not sure. Me and Bun are keeping on and hopping forward — with her hutch out of the frame, natch. Haters gonna hate, and all that.
P.S… Follow her?
