The second week of kindergarten, Mimi came home with a rabbit. Despite numerous mentions of the Temporary Friends project in the parent newsletter, I wasn't prepared to see my five-year-old girl cuddling a honey-colored fluffball that was genetically engineered to have fatally high cholesterol and die of a heart attack later in the school year.  

"I named him Mr. Flufferbottom."  Mimi told me.  I glared at Great-Grandpa John, who'd been watching her while I finished up my shift at the clinic.  He shrugged.  My gruff maternal grandfather wasn't my first choice of babysitter, but he needed a place to stay and I needed someone to watch Mimi after school.