My Christmas box

All the packages, paper and lights around the place are for something called Christmas. A friend brought a cardboard box with a big label that said Harvey's Christmas box. It was full of carrots and beetroot from his allotment. The smell was like a deep soily burrow, a grassy field and a vegetable patch all rolled into one. I sat in it surrounded by carrots, my dream had come true. I dived headfirst for the biggest carrot. Mmm. Bliss. I like this Christmas happening.

My family told me a story to explain things, all about a rabbit family living together long ago in a stable full of hay. One night in the coldest part of the winter some travellers came to share the warm shelter and while they were there a human kitten was born. All the rabbits snuggled up to the baby to keep it warm with their soft fur and when the baby put its hand out to grab one of them that bunny's fur turned white. He became the Great White Rabbit who waits for us all on Rainbow Bridge.

A Very Merry Christmas

A handsome chap

I'd done everything by 8 o'clock this morning. Punched the end flap down in my cardboard tunnel, eaten my bit of carrot, shot upstairs to check on M, completed two speed circuits through dining room, kitchen and hall, cleaned J's soapy hand and tried to pull her bedsocks off with my teeth. After a good wash and brush up there was nothing else to do but sit it out until crunchie time. How boring. Then I found this. It was on the floor ready to throw away. It was a bit of a surprise when I first saw it but immediately peered behind, saw nothing so decided to have a long look at the handsome chap therein. Me. What grace, what elegance, what ears, what glossy fur and such a happy twitching nose. It's funny how it keeps going. I don't do anything special. Seems to have a life of its own.

Not too sure about the back view. Does my bum look big?


Your diary's filling up fast Harve, only a couple of pages left.

Strange Happenings

What on earth is this? I hope they haven't brought one of those giant rabbits to live here, there wouldn't be room because most of the house space is mine. Anyway I couldn't compete with such extraordinary sized messages. And look at the sparkles! I couldn't do that. My bits are always a darkish brown and being so fastidious I try to clear them up as I go along unless I decide litter tray action is needed, you can see a sample beside my water bowl below. Can't smell any food inside either. And something else has moved in next to my sleeping cushions. I've given it a good sniff but it doesn't roll along or make a noise. Better ignore it, it's probably something they've mislaid. My usual floor tracks aren't as clear as they should be either, boxes and bags keep appearing on my mats and some of them are too heavy for head-butting action. Hmm. There is definitely something unusual afoot.
Anyway, to important matters. I have a message for Smudge from the dottie about dog training. She says have you tried leaping from a great height, claws at the ready and landing on its face. She says it always works for her. Good luck!

Teeth

10.40 am; visit to dentist who looked very much like my vet. Smelled just like him too. They thought I had toothache because I kept stamping my foot and moving away from my crunchies each time I took a nibble. I can't remember why I did it but Simon thought I might have bitten my tongue by mistake or a bit of sharp crunchie could have hurt my mouth. He carefully felt round the outside of my face and gums which was a bit like a cuddle to see if I had an abscess or anything unusual there, then stuck a 'scope inside but all was well. My back teeth are a smidgen long but nothing out of the ordinary. It's said you can only see a quarter of a bunny's teeth when you inspect with a torch but if you are an exceptional rabbit specialist like my vet it's more like two thirds.

When he clipped my nails he noticed there was white paint on one of them and asked if I had been helping with decorating. I was so proud when J said I'd been overseeing things. Well, there was such a mess everywhere, just look at it.

As we left the surgery we saw a very sick rabbit waiting its turn. It had myxomatosis because it hadn't been vaccinated. J looked in its cage and was almost crying as we drove home. Poor bunny. It will have crossed Rainbow Bridge by now.

Harve knows the ropes and was very well behaved.

Bonjour

I'm so excited! I've been invited to visit my pen-pal, half-a-tail Mimi who lives in a ninth floor apartment in Paris. Naturally she's a house cat. Or a flat cat. Here she is taking the sun on one of her big balconies.
Our humans keep in touch for us so we know what the other one is up to. Living indoors means we get up to the same sort of things, eating, sleeping, hiding in various places, getting under feet and entertaining guests, so we'll have a lot in common. I'd say I'm more helpful around the house. She doesn't get so involved with what's going on and prefers to watch from a distance. The other morning about 2 am. she knocked over a vase of flowers and there was water all over the lovely wood floor. Then she paddled in it and tried to drink it so Sheila wouldn't notice but she made too much noise.

If I decide to go I wouldn't know what to wear. This beret is chic and very French but would Mimi be more impressed by English city style? And should I take champagne or onions?

I don't expect she's met a rabbit before as she was rescued from the streets so we might get on quite well. I know she'll be impressed by my manly appearance, most people are. She's quite pretty for a cat, a colourful coat with decent whiskers, I think I'll accept the invitation.

She also has teeth, Harve. And she's fast.

Comfort zones

Another success for rabbit-kind! YES! My hints for a litter tray upstairs in my bedroom have worked. Of course I am always my usual fastidious self in my concern for cleanliness, apart from that one tiny slip-up when I had to point out to visitors they were trespassing by sleeping in MY bedroom. The first rule according to the Great White Rabbit on Rainbow Bridge is never mess on ones own patch. This meant when I was upstairs and needed the -er- bathroom, I had to leave my comfort zone, scoot along the corridor, scamper down the stairs, freewheel across the hall, long jump from mat to mat in the kitchen and hook a right into the utility room cross legged.

Now, whenever I want a spot of personal space I can stay put in my favourite upstairs room, next to the airing cupboard and above the Aga. That's three separate areas in three different rooms I can call my own. Woe betide anyone who says they're not mine!

Must dash off and enter telepathic mode to get a bowl of water up there in case of overheating, dehydration or mirages. Water ... water ... water ...

Food and drink stay downstairs you lazy bun.

Kitten days

Here I am on my first day in my new home when I was mostly a big fluffy head with floppy ears and not much rear end.

Bet you can't guess which is me. I'm on the left of course. My brother Dylan who was bigger than me was a bit bad tempered and didn't like me much so some friends took him to live with them. He had a fenced in lawn and a large smart hutch but he was never a house rabbit. He died a couple of years ago. Sadly he ate some grass that had weedkiller on it. Poor Dylan.

I suppose I have always been a bit bossy, even as a kitten. Willow, my dog, soon got used to being told what to do, where she was allowed to sit, and when she could play with me. My game rules, naturally. You can tell she's waiting for instructions in the photograph. We were great buddies. It's nice to see old pictures and reminisce.

Harvey fell on his feet when he was bought for £30 from a pet shop. Had we known about rabbit rehoming and rescue he wouldn't be where he is today.

Filling in time

I've been busier than usual this morning, just filling in time till I hear George has come back home. Kept a beady eye open from my lookout in case he passed by but I think he lives too far away for that. I leaned out as far as I dared just to make sure.
Then I heard the lawnmower so that had to be watched.
Then I thought they were throwing my cardboard tunnel away because I don't use it so had to sit inside to stop them.

Then J went upstairs so I followed in case she went into my room. She did, so I hid under the bedspread to make sure nothing was moved and did a lot of thinking. If George had been chasing a rabbit down its hole he will be able to back out when he gets a bit thinner so that's what I'm waiting for. I've heard of this sort of thing before. A family friend has a little terrier called Jasper who got stuck once. They walked and walked until they heard him whimpering, then had to dig him out.
I've decided to keep a clean page in my diary for when George comes home.

George

George, my friend Celia's cat, is missing and we are all very worried in case he has been run over or caught in a trap. He's much younger than me and has a very happy home with plenty to eat, soft warm beds to sleep on and a wonderful garden next to fields and hedges to play in. My human had a lovely cuddle from him when she visited. She said he was very polite and came when he was called which I don't always do.

It was Celia's idea for me to start my diary when George was doing his but I don't feel like bothering till he comes home. He always left me a message on my blog along with my other feline friend Smudge. This is George, I wish someone would find him and take him home. If you visit George's website you will find out what you can do to help. http://george-online.blogspot.com

We are all hoping George will come home soon.

Raspberries

When you are small, soft, warm, cute and irresistibly cuddly like me, living indoors can be a bit of a nuisance at times. Being munched, kissed, cuddled and having warm raspberries blown on the back of your neck can be a bind when you've already settled down for a snooze and are floating gently over a garden full of carrot tops inhaling their perfume and mapping out where to land. Being a crepuscular animal I like to do this every afternoon but as soon as I prepare to put down my landing gear and pucker my mouth into munching mode, a voice says, "There you are." and I'm disturbed again.

Of course I love the cuddles, who wouldn't but I do need a bit of privacy now and again for, well, personal things. Afternoons are set aside for this. The caecotroph happening is something I'm not in control of and it upsets me so I like to sleep through the process and when it's over, shake the, er,um, poo off and move as far away from it as possible then pretend it has nothing to do with me.

I could write a book about the private life of the rabbit if it hadn't already been done. That might give them a hint about my need for my own space now and again but what if they took it to extremes and put me in a hutch at the bottom of the garden? NO, you gotta go with the flow when you live in a house with humans and have adopted them as your own. Anytime is the perfect time to put up with a few warm neck raspberries while I stretch out, put my chin on the floor, close my eyes and purr. This is the life!

And I love all the nose licks and even the muggings Harve. I think we've got it about right.

Genius or instinct?

Problems, problems. Every day a new problem. Take these dark mornings. My PCG gets up early, gives me my piece of carrot and has a cup of tea. M, my secondary care giver thinks it's still night time and doesn't move. Now this could affect my breakfast so I need to work out a way of getting him downstairs and slotted in position as crunchie provider number two in case my number one decides to have an early bath and forget my breakfast. It has been known but I don't hold grudges.

For a vertically challenged rabbit like me there are several moves. First the door to the hallway needs to be opened. Sit and stare at it. Then I take a long calculated look at the first step of the staircase. Will I be able to jump that high without bumping my head on the next step up? Which foot do I put first? I can never remember. Geronimo! Staircase secured! Next there's the mad scamper to the top followed by whether to turn right or left. Found him! There he lies, thirteen stone of lumpy human male under a rose covered eiderdown. I give a few tugs at his overhanging bedsheet with my teeth. Nothing. So Harve-the-mountaineering-hero, saviour of his crunchies, THUMPS!!! From the depths of the duvet he mumbles those reassuring words. "OK, you win, Harve." Eureka.

This would be called problem solving by humans, using known information to reach a conclusion. And they would claim it as intelligence and their perogative. My brainwork they refer to as instinct or conditioning. What arrogant nonsense. How can it be conditioning when I do a thing for the first time. Nope, I decide on a plan, work out how to do it then put it into action. On one hand there is nature, things I would do in the wild when survival comes first, then at home there's nurture where food comes first. Why would I want to know how to get a human out of bed if I lived in the wild? Have you ever spotted a human dozing by a rabbit hole with a packet of crunchies in his hand? Of course you haven't. No, I work out every problem as it comes up. All by myself.

I've never doubted your genius, Harve. You're a very independant young man with very definite ideas.
Thanks for the early morning call. No need to repeat it. M.

Marauders on the loose

Look what I found this morning on my garden path while I was sniffing around for a bit of late dandelion and an overlooked overripe Victoria plum. Someone had committed murder in the night although I didn't hear a thing. Whoever it was, and I have my suspicions, could have eaten some of the poor creature instead of just biting its head off and leaving it there for the flies. While the dottie was staying here she caught three flies on the window but at least she ate them. I was very proud of her because she was such a baby at the time.

When I go outside it is usually to help with the daily chores, not to kill somebody. This time of the year there is log stacking to be done. Each lump has to be checked in. I wouldn't like to think of beetles or spiders being burned alive, they are such useful creatures, so it's a lengthy job. Then there's the tidying round the back door. Lanky herbs have to be nibbled down, you can see the expert job I did with the parsley and the edges of my grass patch trimmed. It's all go now the nights are drawing in.

If I lived in a hutch my day would end there but in the house I have lots of things to keep me busy when I've finished outside. I find I doze more now I'm six and I like early nights and a slow start to the day.

In human terms is it sixty, Harve?

Dear Diary

It's just you and me for the next few days while everybody's away again. As usual I had to lend a paw with the packing otherwise they would have taken far too much stuff. I tried to explain that other places have shops but it fell on deaf ears. Then a brilliant idea came to me. I could hide in the suitcase and jump out when we got there. I could see the news headlines," 'arve, le brave. Le baggage binkying bunny," but as I knew they were going to France I changed my mind. Frogs and snails should be in the garden, not on plates thank you very much. A bit of crusty baguette can be tasty but it's not worth the journey.
There's a new hidey-hole in the kitchen. A sort of tent with cushions inside has been fixed up and there is a stool to climb on so I can reach the window seat. The tent is OK, quite cosy, but I would rather be under my big table to see what's going on. And what if Pauline the Postie can't find me when it's crunchy time? I like to be beside my bowls when I hear the back door rattle, it saves her such a lot of time.
The Canadians have gone away with them. I pee'd in their bedroom just to show them it's really mine and they shouldn't be there so I was under a bit of a cloud when they left. Time for a zizz before Simon or my Joanne comes to check me and say goodnight.

One carrot, two carrots, two and a half carrots ........

A Winter's Tale

Not so long ago, one bitterly cold evening in Niagara-on-the-Lake, when the snow was deep and the skies were dark and heavy, a gentle family cat brought a healthy baby bunny to the warmth and heart of his family. He placed it carefully at Alison's feet and went about his business. The family was thrilled at the cleverness of the feline and praised its sweetness and concern for the half frozen rabbit kitten. They made up a cosy basket, gave it cereal and water and left it to recover overnight near the fire on a lovely white fluffy rug safe from the cruel Canadian weather.

The next morning the lovely white fluffy rug was a red fluffy rug. The gentle family pet had returned for a snack in the early hours.

All rabbits should tell this story to their children and grandchildren and especially to the humans they live with.

The photographs are of me and my friend Celia's cat George who has a blog like mine on http://george-online.blogspot.com I dislike being picked up usually but I have to tolerate it for the sake of my public. And for the vet. And at poop-check time. It's a hard life when you're a celebrity like me and have to face the paparazzi so often. Anyway just take a minute to look at George and me and see how alike we are, both black, both small mammals, both kept as pets by humans. Yet if George caught me he would eat me starting from my lovely face so that my fur would lie the right way and wouldn't interfere with his pleasure. Good night and sweet dreams. I think I'll sleep upstairs under the bed tonight.

I think Harve's winking at us.

Photograph of gazebo in Niagara-on-the Lake by Bruce Jackson

What is a happy bunny?

A happy bunny is one
Who runs to you with a kiss each morning,
Who dashes about the house ecstatically leaping through the air as he runs,
Who pushes his face into your hand and leaves it there to show how much he loves you,
Who sings as he hops along when he hears the word "carrot" or " dinner",
Who makes a game of running out through one door and in through another, over and over again until he is tired,
Who nudges your feet to let you know he wants attention
Who confidently throws himself sideways in an attempt to roll over but never quite manages it,
Who introduces himself to visitors then shows them to the door as they leave,
Who makes a nightly sofa circuit to tell you he is going to bed,
Who has the self assurance to keep a bouncy kitten cornered and well away from his personal space,
Who stretches out at your feet every evening just to be close.
Hey, who's been writing in my diary and where's

my picture?

Will this do?

Harve in helpful mood.

Home alone.

I was left on my own overnight while my lot popped off for a couple of days. I never get bored on my own. With my house to supervise boredom isn't on my agenda. They are very lucky they can leave me here to look after the house when they go away. Anything could happen to the place if I weren't on the spot. One of my best friends is Pauline-the-Postie. She comes in to sort things for me when she has finished her village round. She gives me my crunchies, changes my litter, tops up my water and hay bowl and generally checks me over. We have a chat and a cuddle although usually I am much more interested in my food. Then my Joanne, or Simon, comes after work to say goodnight and give me my evening carrot. If they have time we watch a bit of television then they text my lot to give them an update. I appreciate a day or two when I don't have so many interruptions or somebody saying "What are you up to Harve?", "Come out of there Harve", "You're very quiet under there, Harve", as if I'd get up to anything troublesome. What a nightmare it must be to be imprisoned in a hutch, however large, perhaps with one visit a day from human family. What do those rabbits do all the time if the only light they see is through a piece of chicken wire. What have we done through the centuries to deserve this? All we ask is love, loyalty and a bit of freedom. It costs nothing.

Hopefully Harve has forgotten we took him to rabbit kennels for a week to try it out. Our careful instructions were not followed, perhaps they thought they knew better and when we returned he had stopped eating. We took him straight to our brilliant vet who kept him in for a few days and hand fed him with a complete food mixture to get his system going again. It took a week with covering antibiotics to get him back to his old self. I sat up at night with him to make sure he knew I was there. Never again.

Birthday boy

I'm six today! This is the present list I made and left by my basket last night.

1. One whole banana just for me, all at once.

2. One whole, large carrot just for me, all at once.

3. One piece of carrot cake with extra large juicy raisins.

4. One packet of cornflakes.

5. One ripe pear.

6. One ripe peach, peeled.

7. One bouquet garni of mint, parsley, dandelion leaves and rocket.

8. One whole day when I don't hear the word "NO".

No need to wrap.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

Ok, where's the carrot cake?

Happy Birthday from all of us, Harve.

People say the oddest things.

We had visitors today. As a very social animal I like to keep up to date with group activities as nature intended me to so I dashed smartly under the table beside all the feet to be in the best position to catch up with gossip. People think I sleep a lot of the time under there but I don't miss much. I learn a lot listening to chatter while I pretend to doze. Such a great way to collect notes for my diary. I realised very early on humans don't give much thought before they open their mouths. This afternoon for instance one of them looked down at me, laughed and asked "Which end is which?" I mean although I am black all over apart from the grey tips on my front toes, people who can't tell a head from a tail shouldn't be allowed out alone. Then with no consideration for my finer feelings she peered again and said "I see he likes blackberries." My PCG was quick off the mark as she spotted my caecotroph. "Not well enough," she replied drily. In my opinion verbalising is rarely a good move.

My Primary Care Giver frequently explains to friends who question her about life with me that my behaviour is very kittenish. She must mean my play behaviour because I am nothing like the dotty. Also, when I do my speed running round the house with my long ears flapping debonairly she says I'm like a huge black bumble bee trying to take off. You see what I mean, no consideration.

By the way, Smudge, a binkie is much like a high kitten leap but we rabbits do whirly twists while we are airborn. We can either execute a complete turn in the air or land facing in a totally different direction. Air aerobics are wildly uplifting. Try it. You may have to take off from a height if you are a sedate cat.


I'll have to think more carefully before I say anything.

Ways and means.

I've been working on a couple of new ways of getting behind the television if there are no cushions stuffed in each side. Although, with a bit of scrabbling, I can easily pull them out then clamber over if my primary care people are dozing, which they do a lot these days. You have to keep planning if you're a house rabbit, after all in the wild I'd be designing new burrows all the time. Anyway, if they're wide awake, this is what I've tried and it works pretty well. First of all I dash round the room flipping the occasional binkie to entertain them, then, without pausing for a second .... you have to be quick here .... I dive, mid-flight, behind the set before they've realised what's happened. This brings loud applause, well, hand clapping, shouts of Har-vey, Har-vey, and other screams of delight. They love it.
Then there's the gangster method. I mooch nonchalantly backwards and forwards in front of the screen, looking casually in other directions as if I'm casing the joint then suddenly twist and jump with expert precision down the side! They never expect it. I love a good chuckle. People don't realise what a sense of humour we have unless they keep rabbits themselves. I planned all this to get my own back on my pcg who started hiding behind the sofa and jumping out at playtime. She surprised me a couple of times, I have to admit but the third time I was ready and crept along close behind her. She didn't know where I was so she was the one who got the surprise.

We often play together on the floor.

I'm getting too old for all this.

Musings

I think about food a lot and everybody knows rabbits nibble. Our teeth are made for nibbling, big ones at the front then little ones for munching. Some of us nibble in fields one blade of grass at a time, garden relatives nibble on lawns and brave or silly rabbits nibble by the roadside. Nibbling is fine for some but it's far too slow for me. I like a good mouthful. With a mouthful you get more flavours. That's one of the many good things about being a house bunny, you can stuff as much grassy salad into your mouth at a time as you want because it's picked for you. I just shove my face and my front legs into the pile and open my mouth. There's a patch of grass by the back door especially to keep my teeth busy if I am ever bored but I don't bother. If I stare at it for long enough then go for something I'm not allowed, they cut a pile for me. It's all a matter of knowhow.
If I spent all my time nibbling, how would I get through my daily chores? I mean, even small things like making my bed and writing my diary wouldn't get done. And who would clear the cobwebs from the dark corners of the inglenook where, I'm ashamed to say, nobody else ever goes? I'd be nibbling all the time. Can't be done.

Fortunately, there's not enough flavour in furniture for Harve's taste. Nor in electric wires thank goodness.

It IS a cat.

The worst has happened. The dotty is here again. The family has gone to visit somebody called Florence who lives in Italy and Florence doesn't want the dotty. Nobody asked ME if I wanted it. I should have guessed when the little basket was put on the floor the other night that something was afoot. I tried to get rid of it by chewing through some of the wicker but I was told off.

You should see the dotty's tail now, it's a mile long. Last time it came it kept trying to catch it but couldn't reach. Now it's so long it trips over it. That's how I know it's a cat. I think long tails are very common and showy. Rabbits' scuts are so classily understated.

They haven't closed the door between our two rooms today and it has been bouncing at me again. If I stand my ground it makes itself as small as it can by flopping out but now and again it flaps its paw at me and the pins are still there. It dashed right at me under my table a few times and attacked me but I wasn't going to be pushed away from my own patch, so when I'd had enough, I did a very high binkie, landed on top of it and gave it a hefty shove with my back legs. I was superb. It has been very polite since.

I've had a few laughs though so far. It tries to get right inside the sun hat to nap the way it did last time but it's too big now. The dotty, not the hat. It hangs over the edges. And when it was put outside to play it used one of the garden troughs planted nicely with flowers as a litter tray! It made no attempt to come back inside as I always do, to use the proper place. Such awful manners.
I think I'll have an early night and see what tomorrow brings. I may bite it if it gets too pushy. I can, easily. That's how Willow the dog and I became good friends. I only had to do it twice and she is much bigger than the dotty.

At last Harve made a stand. The proof of the pud will be if he allows her to watch television with him.

Who needs clocks.

Weatherwise it's been a mixed sort of day today, warm then blowy with spots of rain. Changes in weather put me out a bit. I can feel when there's going to be a heavy downpour with thunder and flashes. Some dogs and cats make a terrible fuss but not me. I'm a laid back chap most of the time.

And talking about time that's another speciality of mine. You might not know this but I have a magical sense telling me when things should happen. Harry Potter needed a rabbit as a sidekick, not an owl. That was a big mistake. A rabbit would have been able to feel danger looming. Too late now.

Anyway for some weird reason at the end of last year they moved time backwards without telling me. I dashed past them into the sitting room for the 6 o'clock news as usual and felt such a fool when I heard the church clock strike five. Worse still everybody laughed at me. I did the only thing possible at a time like that and zapped into washing mode. Cats learned this trick from rabbits. If in doubt fudge the issue by having a wash. Post Office Margaret in our village says it can take her cats a month to get used to the silly time change. Well, cats! It would wouldn't it. That White Rabbit in the book didn't need a pocket watch to tell him he was late. He should have known. I would.

Bunny bedtime.

Apart from the carrot bit, these ideas will work for most house pets though I'm not sure about budgies.

1. Watch carefully for signs leading to bedtime and ask for a piece of carrot. This gives them confidence and they think you are ready for bed.

2. Eat carrot quickly then dash past them and make a run for the stairs.

3. Hide where they don't expect you to.

4. Keep as still as possible, any movement can give your hiding place away. Don't make a lump under curtains or bedspreads.

5. Try not to get impatient. They sometimes pretend they've stopped looking for you, so stick it out.

Three things can now happen so get ready to use following tactics.

a) You may be found and they'll try to chase you downstairs. Easy to manage, dash under the nearest bed and keep moving just out of reach of groping hands.

b) After about ten minutes they will be so annoyed they'll put all the lights out and pretend to go to bed. Stay where you are until things go quiet then stamp your foot as only rabbits can, several times, until one of them gets out of bed to see what you're up to.

c) Worst scenario, they'll grab you and carry you down to your basket. Not a lot you can do about this. I usually act cute, stand on my back legs and tell them I haven't had my bedtime carrot. Usually works. George or Smudge might have some better ideas for me here.

Still not sure about budgies.

We made up one or two new names for Harve last night. Poppet wasn't one of them.

Under the weather

We have no floods here but I'm still a bit under the weather. I feel really groggy this afternoon. They didn't realise they had both given me my bits of apple and banana so I had two lots. I did my best to explain but not wanting to disappoint I forced it all down. I'm not allowed much fruit because of my little problem. That goes for greens as well, apart from grass and a few herbs. Otherwise it's tummyache and I end up facing the nearest wall until it goes. If you must know, cabbage and broccoli are like chocolate pud to human babies. Straight through and out the other end. On top of all that I went out to play and cleverly found dandelion leaves and valerian so I'm on a bit of a high. I know what's coming. It'll be nothing but hay and water. How boring. Unless I can sneak outside for a few rose petals. Ena Harkness is my favourite, mild, with a gentle perfume and a hint of crunch. I suppose I could leave home for a day or two, hang out with the locals who visit our vegetable patch.

It took time for the vet, my lot and my friend Celia Haddon, to clear up my dirty bottom problems. I have a photo of Celia and me chatting about important rabbit matters. She understands these things. People give bunnies far too much bought food and just keep filling their bowls up. My vet cut down packet food by one gram a day until my weight was just right and I was squeaky clean and then all I have is hay and grass. It's a grass salad really, parsley, mint, baby carrot tops, rocket and bits of dandelion leaves. And don't forget the bedtime slice of carrot. And the odd raisin in a bundled paper towel and my nibble of pear and tiny taste of banana and .........

Nope. I don't think I will leave home.

Leave home? He doesn't go into the garden unless one of us is out. Sorting his digestive problems was a gradual business but very worth while and essential as he lives his life as a house pet. Tempting as it is to spoil him, we stick to the rules. He is such a good boy. But don't tell him.

Mice and the Hole

There's never a dull moment in our house. This morning we found a hole in a corner of my bag of food on the pantry floor. "Mice," my PCG squealed, "rabbit food everywhere." She's been a bit funny about mice since Figgi the cat died. Packets, boxes, jars and tins flew off the shelves and were put down for me to check. The cornflakes needed special attention to make sure there was nobody hiding inside. You never can tell with mice.
"Not a sign of a single mouse," she announced when everything had been put back. I could have told her that, I know who nibbled the hole. Can't say though.

Never a dull moment is right.

It's Gone.

It's gone, it's gone, the dotty has gone. Yes. Yes. Yes. It won't come here again, I'm sure of that. It disgraced itself completely. My family knows how very lucky it is to have a house rabbit. It pee'd on my curtain burrow and on the carpet in the corner of the room in spite of having two litter trays. It scratched all the chairs, chewed my diary and generally interfered with everything. M couldn't do his crossword in peace. It kept biting the pencil and batting the newspaper with its paws. Its batteries never ran down, I could hear them going even from the kitchen. What atrocious behaviour. What a mini tornado.

I still feel shaky when I think of it. What if it escapes and finds its way back? I can feel my back legs beginning to quiver.

I'd forgotten what lovely time-wasters kittens are. Dotty is such a happy little thing, no fear of anything. Harve is his old self again, checking and sniffing in every corner and dashing about all over the place. By the end of her stay he was creeping into the room and watching her from a distance. He would never admit it. If he spotted me watching he hopped it.

Dotties in the house

Whatever you do, never let a dotty into your house. They have pins in their feet. We have one staying with us at the moment and the last two days have been a nightmare. It binkies in a fashion all over the place, ignores my foot stamping and has no sense of self discipline. It never stops bouncing and when it spots me it wiggles its bottom and tries to jump at me. Worst of all, it smells awful and its litter tray is disgusting. I couldn't have a child of mine making such a mess.This particular dotty was thrown away by somebody and I'm not surprised. House rules and the fact other folk might have opinions never enter its silly head. My Joanne found it and took it home with her. Who knows why?
I had a close look at the dotty while it was shut in a cage. It could be a sort of cat but I have never seen one that small. My family keeps it well away from my kitchen and utility room but I wish it would go away. I'm really depressed and try to sleep most of the time. I want my home back.

Poor old Harve. He's lost his sparkle and doesn't know which way to turn. The kitten's eye colour has just turned from blue and as she's too young for injections she can't go outside so we have her here till Sunday. Dotty thinks the whole world is hers to play with and conquer. This includes Harve. We pop her into the cat basket now and again for him to inspect at close quarters. He hops around the cage stamping his foot pathetically which Dotty enjoys hugely. It's Showtime! She had complete control of the dogs from the beginning. The pins in her feet did it.

Wellingtons and Water-wings

What a palaver this morning. The fridge-freezer where my carrots are kept gave up the ghost during the night and the utility room floor was awash. None of my stuff was wet but my Primary Care Giver seemed a bit over agitated. "How can you sit there calmly doing the crossword while the rabbit is paddling around in wellies and water-wings," she said to M. I wasn't,of course, I was under the kitchen table waiting for the odd cornflake to fall my way. Anyway, I don't wear water-wings. She exaggerates at times.

There was a load of sorting out for me to do when everything was dry. It's easy enough to nudge my bowls back if they get out of line but this was a bigger job. Everything out of place at floor level is my responsiblity.

They were a bit manic after that and before I realised what was happening, they grabbed me, held me down in a half-nelson and started pulling at my loose fur. I didn't grumble, I just flopped out and let them get on with it while I thought about the treat I'd get when they'd finished. When moulting time comes around I have decided to put up and shut up. It's over and done with in no time and I feel less itchy and scratchy afterwards although it can be a bit scary watching the pile of fur grow taller. I hope they leave me a bit to cover my modesty.

The trouble with life with humans is, if it's not moulting time its poop-check time or it's Rearguard time or weighing-in time or injection time. Wild rabbits don't have problems like this and these events are never organised by me. I don't want to be too critical of my family but have you noticed that human beings have a Mendelian trait which precludes them from remembering stuff really important to rabbits? Carrots, bananas, pears, apples, sweetgrass, herbs, dandelion leaves, rose petals and cornflakes. These should be indelibly imprinted on their genes like the colour of their eyes or hair. Why can't they put important things first? After all, I'm not a faddy, fussy, furry person am I?

Harve, please stay away from books or instead of research by an old monk you might come come across a recipe for jugged hare or that certain kind of pie.

And yes, he did grumble!

The Old Cat Basket Trick

Can you believe it? There I was, dozing happily under the table, listening to the rain battering against the windows and dreaming of a sunny field full of dandelions and clover when without any warning I was scooped up, plonked into the old cat basket and dumped in the car.

Great, a visit to the vet. Just how I'd planned to spend the day. My absolute, unfavourite happening and not a thing I could do about it.

The journey was bearable. I spent it making the basket comfortable by tugging and scrabbling my blankets and pulling them about with my teeth until I got it to my liking.

When it was time to see my doctor, Simon, I'd prepared myself for the worst. The weigh-in wasn't too bad, I was perfect as usual. The stomach prodding was ticklish then he peered unceremoniously at my rear end and listened to my heart. Not too scary. That is until he decided to check my teeth. It was horrible. He held my mouth wide open and shone a torch at everything in there, it lasted for ever. "Do his snuffles get any worse than this," the vet asked. Snuffles? I wasn't snuffling, I was making the loudest sound I could with my mouth jammed wide open and a whacking great torch stuffed inside. My PCG explained for me. "Ah", he said, "it's just for my benefit is it?" Too right. Who else would

I be complaining about. I ask you.

Not a hair was left unturned and to crown it all there was the myxie jab. As a matter of fact I didn't feel a thing but what would be the point in arguing anyway.

I was just breathing a sigh of relief at being put back in my basket when I was whipped out again and he attacked my toe nails. I don't know what I would have done if he'd decided to trim my beautiful whiskers.

The old cat basket felt comfortable and cosy on the way home and thinking about it now, I quite enjoyed it all. It was a change. I had a ride out, met some very friendly people and Simon always always gives me a cuddle and chats to me when it's all over. My Cat and Rabbit Care Clinic in Northampton won an award for good "cattitude" in a national competition so I know I'm one very lucky bunny.

Harve came through with flying colours and a bag of pure, dried grass. The vet said he can't repeat often enough to owners of bunnies that grass and hay are so important to a rabbit's diet. Too much packet food leads to obesity and poor digestion which in turn can result in tummy problems, dirty bottoms and the horrendous fly strike. Harve is checked daily and twice in hot weather when there is more chance of flies being around. This is the time of year for an application of Rearguard. Some rabbits put up with such a lot of unnecessary suffering. Rabbits Deserve Better is the motto of the Rabbit Welfare Association and Harve backs that one hundred per cent.

A Day in the Life of .......

You'll be well up to speed now with the fact my primary care giver knows very little about bunnies. The new training sessions are not going as well as I'd planned. Take a quick look at yesterday's diary.

7.30 am. PCG comes downstairs. Dash about, give her a lick and tell her it's 9.30 am, time for my breakfast. No luck.

8.00 am. Trip her up when she goes for another cup of tea. Tell her it's 9.30 am. Ignored.

9.00 am. Sit on mat in utility room, stare at my empty bowl. No reaction. Run in circles round her feet, trip her up again and tell her it's 9.30 am. Nothing.

9.25 am. Fed up. Go to sleep.

9.45 am. A whistle ! 24 grams of crunchy deliciousness. Eat too much too quickly. Flop out under table until things shuffle down.

11.00 am. Very wet day so am allowed upstairs to play. Find newspaper by side of bed so decide to help with tidying.

12.00 Finish sorting newspaper. Exhausted. Get no thanks for expertise. Am chased downstairs.

Sleep most of afternoon with time off for grass and hay.

5.00 pm. Have good wash. Manage to get ends of ears into mouth. All ready for TV.

6.00 pm. Television time ! Do not disturb until I'm ready to play

.

You see my problem? I wonder whether a doe in the house would be as difficult to train as my human female.

No comment. No doe.