10/25/2026
’𝐓𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
’Twas the night before Convention, and all through the hall,
Not a rabbit was sleeping—not one, not at all.
The coops had been set up, the carriers were stacked,
And exhibitors prayed they’d brought everything packed.
The rabbits were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Best in Show danced through their heads.
With tattoos and toenails and coats brushed just right,
We’d spent half our season getting ready for tonight.
The breeders were pacing, the juniors were stressed,
One doe had decided that now was the best
Time to dig through her shavings and scatter them wide,
While her owner just whispered, “Please, girl. Have some pride.”
The feed had been measured, the water bottles filled,
And somebody’s rabbit had somehow escaped still.
There were tables of coops, carts in a row,
And a dad asking, “Honey, how much did this show cost us to go?”
The kids had their notebooks, their Standards, too,
Their white coats were spotless—or at least almost new.
Their moms packed the snacks, their dads checked the tires,
And somewhere a breeder was muttering, “Retire?
I swear this is it. I am done. I am through.
Just one more good litter, and then I am through.”
But we all know the truth, and we all know the game:
By next breeding season, we’ll do it again.
For tomorrow brings judging, the excitement, the noise,
The long-awaited moments for our girls and our boys.
The best of the best will be called to the table,
And we’ll hold our breath, hoping our rabbits are able.
We’ll cheer for our friends and admire every call,
Celebrate great rabbits, and learn from them all.
We’ll say, “What a beauty!” and “Look at that bone!”
Then text our best friends, “You HAVE to see this one!”
We’ll celebrate winners with ribbons held high,
Take pictures of rabbits that catch every eye.
We’ll congratulate friends, though our hearts may feel sore,
And promise ourselves we’ll come back wanting more.
But somewhere between all the coops and the shows,
There’s a story that only a rabbit person knows.
It’s the youth who’s shaking, with tears in their eyes,
Who’s worked for this moment through countless goodbyes.
It’s the breeder who’s stayed up till three in the morn,
Helping a struggling doe bring new babies forth.
It’s the litter that didn’t survive through the night,
And the one little kit that somehow won the fight.
It’s the rabbit you lost that you’ll never forget,
The one that still makes your eyes a little wet.
It’s the years spent in barns when the world was asleep,
The promises made that we’re still here to keep.
It’s the money we’ve spent (let’s not calculate that),
The hay in our hair and the fur on our hat.
It’s the husband who helps when he’d rather be home,
The wife who can name every rabbit you own.
It’s the parents who drive through the darkness and rain,
Because their child has a dream worth the strain.
It’s the friendships that started with, “What breed is that?”
And the lifelong connections formed right where we sat.
It’s the mentors who taught us, the hands that reached down,
When we were new faces in this rabbit show town.
It’s the ones who are gone but still walk by our side,
Whose lessons and laughter we carry with pride.
We can almost still hear them, their voices so clear,
Saying, “Keep your best ones. Convention is near.”
And the children we once were, now grown and grown tall,
Still remember the first time we walked through these halls.
We thought it was rabbits, the trophies, the fame,
But somewhere along the way, it became so much more than a name.
For ARBA is more than a ribbon or breed,
More than the standards we study and read.
It’s a family stitched together with passion and care,
With a language of rabbit folks only we share.
It’s the kid who comes nervous, with one rabbit in tow,
And the seasoned old breeder who still loves the show.
It’s the people who teach us, who challenge, who cheer,
Who make us feel welcome year after year.
So tonight, as we settle our rabbits once more,
And check every latch like a hundred times before,
Remember the reason we keep coming back,
Through the long days, the hard years, the miles on the track.
Tomorrow, some of us will go home with a win,
Some will start planning our next breedings again.
Some will pack up our carriers with hearts feeling small,
And some will discover this was their best show of all.
But the ribbons will fade, and the trophies will shine
A little less brightly as we travel through time.
What lasts isn't the placing, the points, or the prize—
It's the people, the memories, the love in their eyes.
So hug your old mentors. Thank those who have taught.
Remember the lessons that money can't buy or be bought.
Tell your friends that you love them; don't wait till next year.
For the rabbit show family is something held dear.
And if you're a youth who's dreaming tonight,
If you're scared, if you're nervous, if your future feels bright,
Know that somewhere out there, someone once stood like you,
With a rabbit, a dream, and no clue what to do.
And perhaps years from now, you'll return to this place,
With a child at your side and a smile on your face.
You'll watch them walk proudly with their rabbit held tight,
And you'll remember your first show, your own nervous night.
You'll see in their eyes what you once held inside,
That same spark of wonder, that same stubborn pride.
And you'll realize the greatest thing this hobby has grown
Isn't the rabbit you raised—it's the people you've known.
So here's to the breeders, the youth, the show crew,
The judges, the volunteers, and the parents there, too.
Here's to the late nights, the early alarms,
The rabbit hair on our clothes and the shaving in our cars.
Here's to the ones who keep standards alive,
To the passion that helps this great hobby survive.
And here's to the memories we carry each year,
To the laughter, the heartache, the joy, and the tears.
Now the lights are turned down, and the hall settles tight,
The rabbits are resting beneath convention's light.
And I whispered a prayer as I turned out the light:
“𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,
𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.
𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐨𝐨,
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”
And I heard someone whisper, as they walked out of sight,
“𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.”
