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.