We once had a rabbit that lived behind the fridge. Ma had rescued it from a nest that the dogs had dug up, and brought it up on Bengers Baby Food fed out of a dropper. He got very tame and became convinced that he was a puppy, curling up on the rug in front of the fire with the dog and climbing on top of the dog's head when she sat up. The dog was pretty embarrassed by this, not least because she'd been responsible for eating the rabbit's mother.
When Bengers became too old to keep in the kitchen - and when the environmental health inspector told Ma, very politely, that it was probably not a good idea to have a rabbit in the kitchen while you were making apple pies to sell to the general public - a Bengers Repatriation Programme was put together.
Bengers was given a home outside in a hutch and a pen for a while, and then taken down to the bottom of the field and released in to the wild. Every night Ma would go down to say goodnight to him and take him a 'finger of fudge'. Five hundred other rabbits would head for their rabbit holes when they saw her coming, and one would pelt towards her to get it's sugar fix.
Motto: Make sure that the sweets at the checkout are placed so your rabbit can't reach them.