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.