The Easter Bunny isn't real. Unlike the leprechaun I spoke of last week, the Easter Bunny is clearly a fabrication of our culture and collective imagination.

There is not much known about the Easter Bunny. At least with our other mystical trespassers, we have a basic idea of what they look like. Santa, for instance, is known for his white beard, his belly that jiggles like jelly and his Coke-red tracksuit, along with his affinity for reindeer and a Tourette's-like impulse to exclaim, "Ho-ho-ho!" Such minutiae don't come from nowhere. Clearly, there have been Santa sightings, rendering him real. Same could be said of the green top-hatted, butt-pinching leprechaun and the hairy 10-foot sasquatch, whom we know to enjoy taking casual walks through the woods during the wintertime. So much is known of these creatures, yet we can't even claim the color of the Easter Bunny. I have seen him in picture books as white, pink, brown and yellow. He's been drawn bespectacled and vested, in suspenders and in a full three-piece suit. This inconsistency of fur color and attire can only mean one thing: The Easter Bunny has never actually been spotted. And what are the odds of that? I mean, even Nessie, the Loch Ness monster, screwed up once or twice.

It's not just the inconsistent look of the Easter Bunny that leads me to believe he isn't real. Oh, no. There is his affinity for jelly beans over juicy carrots, and there's the premise that he enjoys hugs from children — and don't even get me started on his presumed geography skills. But more than anything else, I'm thrown off by the big giant bunny's behavior.

Mom to an 18-pound rabbit named Pig, I have seen firsthand the behavior of an R.O.U.S. — a rabbit of unusual size. Let's start with the Easter baskets. Beautiful wicker baskets filled with grass shavings — if that isn't a prime afternoon snack for an ever-gnawing gigantic rabbit, I don't know what is. How could he leave behind a basket for every child when he is too busy turning it into sawdust? And that's before we even get to the candy. Leaving behind little brown pellets: common. Leaving behind little chocolate pellets: uncommon. Not to mention the eggs. I don't care how big the Easter Bunny is; all rabbits are too afraid of a chicken to sneak in to a coop and egg-nap.

OK, maybe not all rabbits. A few months ago, information about Atlas, the continental giant rabbit in search of a home, went viral. Knowing my affinity for fluffy lovelies, many friends sent me links to the Scottish SPCA announcement about the lagomorph. Atlas was described as loving cuddles and having a mischievous personality. And he no longer wanted to hop from home to another.

Or did he?

Earlier today, I looked into the status of Atlas and discovered he's been resettled into a loving home in Scotland, where he was photographed with a — wait for it — basket!

Suddenly, I'm not so sure the Easter Bunny isn't real. All the pieces are falling together! Could it be? Atlas is the Easter Bunny!

Consider the hard evidence. We didn't know what he looked like, but we do now: fawn-colored and unclothed. Though, as a Scot, there is a chance he will adorn himself with a glass of Scotch, which would explain why the Easter Bunny is roaming around people's backyards in the middle of the night. And Scotch, as we all know, is a type of whiskey. "Whiskey" sounds like "whiskers." Like the whiskers on a rabbit. Get it? Scots are also known for The Highland Chocolatier. Pretty convenient for the baskets, don't ya think? If that weren't enough, Atlas' breed of rabbit is the continental giant. And what comes in a continental breakfast? Hard-boiled eggs! Do you see the evidence staring us in the face, people? Atlas is described as loving cuddles. Such as from children at the mall during a photo op, perhaps? He is also known for being mischievous, certainly a behavioral prerequisite for trespassing on people's homes and leaving goodies behind. And as if we needed any more proof that we have finally found the mythological rabbit that can find his way around the entire world, hopping around it in just one night, look at his name: Atlas.

I was wrong. The Easter Bunny lives.

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Photo credit: Till Westermayer