A precious little 5-year girl walks into Boudreaux"s Pet Shop and asks,
"Excuthe me thur, you have any widdle wabbits?"

As Boudreaux's heart melts, he gets down on his knees, so, that he's
on her level, and he asks, "Do you want a widdle white wabbit or a thoft and
fuwwy bwack wabbit, or, maybe, one like dat cute widdle bwown wabbit over dare?"

She in turn blushes...rocks on her heels...puts her hands on her knees...
leans forward and whispers... "I don't tink my pet pyfon weally gives a thit."