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    Hello, My Name is Bunny!: New York City
    Hello, My Name is Bunny!: New York City
    Hello, My Name is Bunny!: New York City
    Ebook82 pages50 minutes

    Hello, My Name is Bunny!: New York City

    By Matt Bloom, Pippa Mayell and Shelley Simmons-Bloom

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Meet Bunny Bloom: irrepressible, international feline do-gooder. This first book in the Hello, My Name is Bunny! chapter book series finds a recently adopted Bunny escaping her comfy apartment in a daring attempt to rescue a New York City Central Park carriage horse from its mean owner. Helped by her new friends, Mike the Mouse, Polly t

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHello Bunny LLC
    Release dateSep 7, 2023
    ISBN9798988474210
    Hello, My Name is Bunny!: New York City
    Author

    Matt Bloom

    Matt Bloom has a wife a daughter. He lives and works in Muncie, Indiana.

    Read more from Matt Bloom

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      Book preview

      Hello, My Name is Bunny! - Matt Bloom

      Chapter 1

      Hello, my name is Bunny, and I happen to be the luckiest cat in the whole, wide world! I make sure to remind myself of that every single day. After all, how many cats get to live in a big, comfy apartment on the top floor of a fancy building on the east side of Manhattan? I often show my gratitude by leaving my favorite toy mouse as a gift for my parents. Joan, my mother, is a psychologist who spends her days helping people be happy. Robert, my father, is a diplomat who makes sure our country gets along with other countries. Joan and Robert have the same type of job in many ways; they both help make the world a happier, safer place.

      I can’t think of a better thing. Can you?

      Although I’m already one year old and fully grown, I’m actually quite small for a cat, except for my big, pointy ears. Even you might mistake them for a rabbit’s at first. It’s kind of strange that my human parents called me Bunny because they chose the name before they even met me. Joan and Robert’s two human children are adults now, so one day they decided to become parents again and took a walk down to the local cat rescue shelter. That’s where they found me, all lonely and bored and cooped up in a cage.

      Not that I’m complaining.

      The shelter was far better than Basement World, where I had been living, beneath a tenement in a bad part of Brooklyn. My Basement World neighbors included rats who’d try to bite me and roaches who’d crawl on me when I slept and people who’d yell and throw things at me. One man even kicked me. I don’t know why. I’d never done anything to him.

      To make matters worse, I was always hot or cold or hungry or thirsty in Basement World. Always scared and lonely, too. The loneliness was the worst. I’m sure you don’t like being lonely, either. I’d even cry sometimes while sitting beside the boiler thinking of my cat mother and cat brothers and sisters, who’d been taken away one day while I searched for food in the trash-filled alley outside. All ten of them gone, as if a fairy had waved her magic wand and made them disappear. I missed my cat family terribly, especially the way they always looked out for me. Everyday we’d wrestle and chase each other and play hide-and-seek. I missed that, too.

      Despite losing my cat family, I still believed in rays of light, in reasons to hope even in the worst situations. A man named Mr. Rodriguez happened to be my ray of light in the darkness of Basement World. Mr. Rodriguez was the superintendent of the Basement World building, there to fix anything that broke. Because I didn’t know if Mr. Rodriguez was a nice man or a mean one at first, I’d hide whenever he came down to Basement World. One day he started fixing the water heater. I stayed hidden behind the boiler and watched him work, increasingly anxious to approach him and say hello. I felt quite scared until I managed to push my fear aside and command myself to be brave. And by doing so, I became brave . . . enough to go right up to Mr. Rodriguez and say, Hello, my name is—

      Only I didn’t have a name yet. Not that it mattered, as it turned out: good old Mr. Rodriguez beamed his white-toothed smile, patted my head, and scratched beneath my chin. He didn’t seem surprised I’d spoken to him, which I found surprising.

      You’re a good little cat. he said. Such a cute little cat.

      Mr. Rodriguez started feeding me after that, bringing me leftover chicken and steak, even bacon. Delish! He set out a water dish so I no longer had to drink from the leaky pipe, and he would call me gata pequeña, which I later learned meant little girl cat in Spanish.

      Mr. Rodriguez brought me a big plate of hamburger one day. Yum! I felt so happy I danced on my hind legs, which isn’t easy for a cat to do. Mr. Rodriguez usually laughed whenever I did my hind leg dance. But he didn’t that day. He seemed sad

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