Memoir

I remember the day when I got my two rabbits. At the very end of June, one of the last days, we drove out to the hobby farm of one of the guys my mom used to work with. It was a nice day, not too hot and not too cold, and I think the sun was shining.
We went into the barn and went into the room where the rabbits were and they started freaking out. This tiny baby rabbit had crawled out from its nest and the other rabbits were practically trampling it. I suppose it didn't help that the guy's dog was running around and trying to get in. I stepped on a bowl and some sort of nasty dirt stuff fell on my foot like fine sand. It felt like powder was on my foot and that was made all the less unattractive by the fact that I couldn't even tell you what that particular substance was.
We had to catch the three bunnies that I got to pick from, and try to tell if they were boys or girls. A black spotted, a brown spotted, and a brown bunny with fur like ginger.
"These two look the same," he said, referring to the brown spotted bunny and the brown bunny, "and this one looks different, but I can't garruntee it." We decided to go with that and take those two home, and they were then known as Ginger and Mopsy. Sadly, he was not correct, as we found out at a later date, and Ginger became Jasper, and then had to get neutered. Mopsy had two litters, and all twelve pink, little babies died.