The Love Miss. Sweet Thing Left Behind
The bittersweet mother-and-son story behind two consecutive NARBC Giant Angora Rabbit of the Year honors.
It was just announced that Mr. Giggles won the 2025-2026 NARBC Giant Angora Rabbit of the Year. His mom, Miss. Sweet Thing, won that same honor for 2024-2025.
Mother and son. Back-to-back winners. It is the kind of news that should send a breeder running to the barn with happy tears, ready to smooth a hand gently over the top of a glorious coat, feel its wonderful softness, and whisper, “You did it.”
Oh, how I wish I could tell them.
Neither one is here to hear the news.
That is why this is more than a story about sweepstakes points, pedigrees, or show-table wins. It is a story about Miss. Sweet Thing, the five chestnut children she left behind, and the beautiful, unpredictable, sometimes heartbreaking life of raising rabbits.
As their pictures pass across the screen, along with many of their relatives, I hope you will see what I see. Not simply beautiful rabbits, but individual souls with their own personalities, their own stories, and their own places in my heart.
Miss. Sweet Thing
Some rabbits live in your barn. Others quietly take up residence in your heart.
Miss. Sweet Thing was one of those rare ones.
Sweet Thing was a stunning ruby-eyed white Giant Angora doe, huge, gentle, and quietly magnificent. Her coat was everything I could have dreamed of: long, dense, soft, and surprisingly easy to care for.
One of my great joys is taking a rabbit in a very long coat to the blower station. The blower lifts and fluffs the wool, separating fibers that might otherwise begin felting together on the rabbit. It is both an important part of caring for the coat and one of the most satisfying transformations to watch. When the blower is finished, the coat is full, airy, beautifully separated, and simply stunning. I run my hands gently over the top, and admire the magnificent rabbit in front of me. With Miss. Sweet Thing, that quiet moment could make the whole barn seem to settle.
Miss. Sweet Thing never demanded attention. She simply made everything feel better when she was near. She was a wonderful mother, too. Steady, patient, and natural. She seemed to understand exactly what her babies needed and gave it to them without fuss.
When Miss. Sweet Thing won the 2024-2025 NARBC Giant Angora Rabbit of the Year, I was over the moon. It was an unforgettable triumph, the kind that makes every grooming session, long drive, and nervous moment at ringside feel worthwhile. Yet the title was never why I loved her. Long before the points, legs, and recognition, she was simply my girl. My gentle giant. My unicorn.
Sweet Thing gave me one litter: five chestnut babies.
I did not know they would be her only children. I imagined another litter someday, perhaps several. I thought I had more time to plan, more time to dream, and more time to sit beside another nest box and watch her become a mother again.
There was no warning when I lost her. Miss. Sweet Thing had shown no signs of illness. There was no indication that she was feeling unwell, no sign of wool block, and nothing that told me to watch her more closely or prepare myself for what was coming.
One moment, she was my beautiful girl. Then she was gone.
That is one of the hardest truths about rabbits. Sometimes they die without giving us an answer. We search our memories for something we missed, replay the last feeding and the last quiet visit, and wish there had been one small sign that might have helped us save them.
But sometimes there is no sign. There is only an empty cage and a broken heart.
The other rabbits still needed me, so the work continued. Food, water, grooming, nest boxes, and chores do not pause for grief. You keep moving because living creatures depend on you, even when part of you wants to sit beside that empty cage and stay there.
After Miss. Sweet Thing died, her five chestnut babies were no longer simply a promising litter. They were the last living pieces of my unicorn.
Five Chestnut Children
Mr. Dazzle. Mr. Cheerful. Miss. Harmony. Miss. Jubilee. And Mr. Giggles.
Five siblings, each completely different. Five lives that would carry their mother's legacy in ways I never could have planned.
That is the funny thing about raising rabbits. We study pedigrees, choose pairings, and imagine the future on paper. Then the rabbits take the story into their own paws.
Mr. Dazzle
Mr. Dazzle, never left the barn. He was my favorite of the litter.
There. I said it.
I loved them all, but Mr. Dazzle held a special place in me. He grew to more than ten pounds and became a big, beautiful buck with tremendous promise. While his siblings went to shows whenever they had the coats for it, he stayed home. I told myself I was keeping him safe. He was my insurance, my treasured son of Miss. Sweet Thing, tucked carefully in the barn just in case.
Then Mr. Dazzle was lost in a tragic accident. I had kept him close because I could not bear to lose him, and I lost him anyway. It was a painful reminder that loving an animal fiercely cannot protect them from everything.
Before he died, Mr. Dazzle gave me one beautiful gift. He sired a gorgeous, full litter with Miss. Dahlia, TKL56. Like his mother, he had only one opportunity to reproduce, and he made that one chance count.
Miss. Dahlia was already a special doe in her own right. She finished as runner-up for the 2024-2025 Giant Angora Rabbit of the Year, right behind Miss. Sweet Thing. Together, she and Mr. Dazzle created babies who carried his story forward.
Now Miss. Dahlia is beginning another chapter. After a date night with one of my favorite Chocolate Agouti bucks, she will travel to a new home near Spirit Lake, Idaho, where a young woman and her daughter are beginning their own Giant Angora journey.
It is hard to let a rabbit like Miss. Dahlia go. She holds memories of Mr. Dazzle and years of my own work and dreams. But sometimes love means trusting a wonderful rabbit to carry hope into someone else's barn.
Mr. Dazzle never left my barn while he was alive. Through Miss. Dahlia and their children, a piece of him will travel farther than he ever did.
Mr. Cheerful
Mr. Cheerful is another of Miss. Sweet Thing's boys, and his name fits him perfectly. He is handsome, steady, kind, and blessed with the sort of personality that makes hard barn work feel lighter.
He also has wonderful density and many of the qualities I value in a Giant Angora. He did very well on the show table, but ribbons show only a small part of who he is. They cannot measure the affection that grows through hundreds of ordinary mornings spent feeding, grooming, and simply enjoying a rabbit.
Soon, Mr. Cheerful will go to a young woman and her daughter near Renton, Washington. They need a large, strong buck to help improve their herd, and he may be exactly the boy they need.
Making room for the next chapter of my Chocolate Agouti program is necessary, but that does not make saying goodbye easy. Mr. Cheerful is part of the only litter Miss. Sweet Thing ever gave me.
Still, I can imagine him becoming the cornerstone of something wonderful in their barn. Sometimes the greatest compliment you can give a rabbit is to trust him with someone else's dream.
Miss. Harmony
Miss. Harmony grew into an enormous doe, well over eleven pounds and nearly twelve. She has a big body, big curiosity, and an even bigger personality.
She needs to know what is happening at all times and seems personally offended if anything takes place without her involvement. Miss. Harmony investigates everything, participates whether invited or not, and regularly makes me smile.
Miss. Harmony showed well enough to become registered and granded, but her most beautiful accomplishment happened far away from the judging table.
Miss. Harmony became a mother, and she is wonderful at it.
She is tender, attentive, and confident with her babies. When I watch her settle beside them, I see something of Miss. Sweet Thing in her. Not the same face or the same white coat, but the same steadiness and quiet devotion.
For a moment, her mother feels close again. That is one of the unexpected gifts of breeding animals. Years after a loss, the past can reach forward through a daughter or grandchild and gently touch the present.
Miss. Jubilee
Miss. Harmony's sister, Miss. Jubilee, is also registered and granded, but the two girls could not be more different.
Miss. Harmony believes the world is full of mysteries requiring immediate investigation. Miss. Jubilee believes the world should admire her and bring snacks.
She is laid-back, beautiful, and entirely unbothered. I can almost hear her saying, “Yes, yes, everyone is very busy. Just put my food over there. I will be resting here, looking stunning.”
Recently, Miss. Jubilee tried to become a mother. Only one baby survived.
Even after years of raising rabbits, that kind of loss still hurts. You look at the babies who did not make it and wonder what they might have become. Then you turn toward the tiny life that is still fighting.
Miss. Jubilee's survivor is doing well with a foster mother. Every full belly and every new day matters. Soon, Miss. Jubilee will have another date night and another chance. That is not forgetting what was lost. It is choosing to carry hope alongside the grief.
Mr. Giggles
And then there was Mr. Giggles, TKM105.
His coat seemed determined to stay forever. While his siblings chewed their wool, lost condition, or missed the show table for one reason or another, Mr. Giggles simply kept going. His baby coat remained beautiful, he hardly matted, and he barely seemed to molt.
Mostly, he ate, grew, and ate some more.
Mr. Giggles became huge, glorious, and impossible to ignore. When Mr. Giggles reached the show table, he hit it hard and heavy, earning leg after leg, easily earning his grand championship and registration. His coat was magnificent, his body was impressive, and he carried himself as if he knew he belonged there.
Every win brought that deep, private joy a breeder feels when years of work suddenly come together under a judge's hands. Mr. Giggles was Miss. Sweet Thing's son, and he was following the same remarkable road his mother had traveled.
After his show season, I thought the next chapter would be babies. I could already imagine his children and the pieces of Miss. Sweet Thing that might appear in another generation.
Finally, it was Mr. Giggles' turn to become a baby daddy.
He was placed with a doe, and he was excited. Perhaps too excited. God only knows what went through that big, enthusiastic head of his when he saw her move.
I accidentally left the cage door open.
Mr. Giggles did not pause. Eager to chase the doe, he took a flying leap from the cage.
One second, I was watching this magnificent buck begin the future I had planned for him. The next, everything changed.
The leap broke his back.
I have replayed that moment more times than I can count. I have wished I could reach backward through time, close that door, catch him, or stop him one heartbeat sooner. It was one small mistake, followed by one impossible jump, and suddenly all those plans were gone.
I prayed he would recover, but Mr. Giggles never did.
When a rabbit dies that suddenly, you mourn more than the life already lived. You mourn the babies who will never be born, the future breedings, the next show season, and all the ordinary years you believed were still ahead.
Then came the announcement.
Mr. Giggles had won the 2025-2026 NARBC Giant Angora Rabbit of the Year, the same honor Miss. Sweet Thing had won the year before.
For one shining moment, pride rose above the grief. He had done it. My great, glorious boy had followed his mother all the way to the top. All those wins, all that magnificent wool, and all the work that carried us from one show table to the next had become a mother-and-son triumph.
The joy was real. So were the tears.
I let myself celebrate the extraordinary rabbit he had been, even while wishing he were still there for an extra treat, a gentle touch, and one more whispered, “Good boy.”
Mr. Giggles never sired the babies I had planned, but his story was not small because it ended too soon. He shone brightly, made his mark on the show table, and carried his mother's legacy with beauty and strength.
Now Miss. Sweet Thing and Mr. Giggles stand together in the record books. Mother and son. Back-to-back Rabbits of the Year.
Some lives are not measured by their length. They are measured by how deeply they are loved and how impossible they are to forget.
What They Left Behind
Miss. Sweet Thing gave me one litter, but those five chestnut children carried her far beyond that single nest box.
Mr. Dazzle left his babies. Mr. Cheerful will help another family build its future. Miss. Harmony carries her mother's tenderness into her own nest box. Miss. Jubilee reminds me that hope can survive even a heartbreaking litter. And Mr. Giggles followed his mother all the way to the top.
None of it happened exactly as I planned.
That may be the truest story of raising rabbits.
There are long hours, difficult choices, fragile babies, sudden losses, and accidents we would give anything to undo. Sometimes there is no warning and no answer. Rabbits can break your heart.
Yet they also fill a barn with personality, purpose, laughter, soft wool, new life, and a kind of love that reaches across generations.
Now, as I ramp up for my Chocolate Agouti adventure, I can feel so many new and thrilling moments waiting just ahead. There will be new babies, new discoveries, new show coats, and fresh reasons to stand at ringside with my heart pounding.
I am bracing for the heartache because I know it is out there. Experience has taught me that every dream carries risk. But I refuse to let the fear of loss steal the joy of what is still possible.
Instead, I am holding tightly to the fellowship of my fellow breeders. There is something special about the friendships formed at rabbit shows, the shared excitement around the judging table, and the people who understand why one beautiful coat, one promising baby, or one hard-earned win can mean so much.
I also treasure the people who share my fuzzy fiber fun. My rabbits have given me more than show memories and pedigrees. They have placed soft fiber in my hands and opened an entire world of spinning, yarn, knitting, crocheting, and quiet creative pleasure.
That inspiration spills into nearly everything I make. It is in my tie-dye T-shirts, glitter pins, stationery products, T-shirt designs, and all the other colorful crafting adventures sparked by my love for these critters.
I am having a blast!
Perhaps that is the greatest legacy of all. These rabbits have filled my barn, my hands, my imagination, and my life. They have brought me friends, challenged me to keep learning, and inspired more dreams than I could ever fit into a single nest box.
Would I choose it all again, knowing how some of these stories would end? Yes.
I would choose every peaceful morning with Miss. Sweet Thing, every moment with Mr. Dazzle, every smile from Mr. Cheerful, every curious interruption from Miss. Harmony, every queenly demand from Miss. Jubilee, and every proud moment watching Mr. Giggles on the show table.
Worthwhile does not mean painless. It means their lives mattered enough to make the pain worth carrying.
Miss. Sweet Thing was my unicorn. Mr. Giggles was her glorious chestnut boy. Together, they gave me a story more beautiful and more heartbreaking than anything I could have planned.
Now their story leads forward, into Chocolate Agoutis, show-table friendships, soft yarn, bright colors, busy hands, and all the wonderful things still waiting to be created.
Raising rabbits is rarely easy. In fact, it rarely goes according to plan.
But it is always worthwhile.
And in the end, the love is always bigger.
Stay Fluffy My Friends,
Tammy, BTW, if you want to join our Colored Giant Village on Discord, Here's more information;
We’re creating more reasons for people to stay engaged, to show up at shows, and to fall in love with Angoras all over again. And that right there… is what this is all about.
Life’s just better with a Giant Angora hug
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