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.