Square eggs?

Well, I think I've heard everything now! There I was keeping a close watch on my space to make sure everything was put back in exactly the right spot on my mat as I do every morning while my second in command was doing a bit of a clean up when he suddenly said Why can't this rabbit make square droppings so they wouldn't roll around all over the place.
Well, to start with, the droppings as he calls them are not done on purpose. They seem to spill a bit when I jump out of my litter tray that's all and secondly this rabbit has a name! Anyway, I make them this way because it is more comfortable for me. Does he ask hens to lay square eggs?Of course he doesn't. How would he get his egg spoon into the corners if eggs were square?
In my opinion it's time my base station was put back in the utility room so I won't get so many complaints. This means the kitchen door would need to be left open for my freedom during the night and it's still a bit chilly in the back porch which they like to shut off in cold weather.
If I complain too much they might decide to get a sleeping cage for me and I wouldn't like that so it's best to suffer all the slings and arrows and pretend I don't understand what they say. I love sleeping under my kitchen table anyway. It's my eventing arena as well as my safe place.

This is my safety zone where I sleep, perfect my jumping skills and keep watch over everything in the kitchen. I'm ashamed of the dust on my table and chair legs but I can't reach very high.

A hutch is not enough.

I've been thinking a lot about other rabbits this winter while I snooze beside the fire. I wish they could all live like me or have comfortable garden homes like my friend Viola Rose. This is Viola Rose. She lives with her large family and every summer their lovely garden is open to raise money for less happy buns.

They each have a luxury pad and their own bonded partner for company as well as the garden to play in. This is how we bunnies should live. We need to be able to hop and run and binkie whenever we feel like it. We need company and someone to cuddle up to. We need everything other companion animals have. We need a life with someone to love us and care for us just like everyone else.The bedroom in this picture is for two Netherland dwarf buns. The bigger members of the family have bigger master bedroom suites but they all have their very own playground just like this one.
Parsley is another member of Viola Rose's family. He is a house rabbit and sits on a chair beside Twigs while she writes her books. When the garden is open he and his partner have a play pen so they can share in the fun.

If you read this page in my diary please tell as many people as you can that a hutch is not enough and please, please ask people to buy their human children a chocolate bunny this Easter instead of a real one. Unless you are sure they can live a life like Viola Rose.

Keep an eye on Dr. Twigs Way's website for open days if you would like to meet Viola Rose and her family. You can sit in their lovely garden and smell the roses. http://www.twigsway.com/

Brrrrrr it's still cold

Had a peep outside today but its too cold for me in the garden.

They say it's the damp and draughts rabbits don't like not the cold but to be on the safeside I stay away from them all. Well these experts are always doing research to prove something or other then somebody else pops up and proves the opposite. It's better to stick to my own rules I say. After a bit of firm persuasion my lot soon catch on. They know on chilly evenings I like the fire to myself. If I really stretch out I can keep them away from my warm spot and if J gets in my way I squiggle my way in between her and the fire. To get rid of her completely I just have to find a bit of her and keep licking until it drives her mad and she moves away.

Life with humans is a doddle really if you chose the right kind. That's the hard bit, chosing the right kind. I try not to think about some bunnies freezing to death in their hutches. People should have to pass exams before they are allowed to keep rabbits.

Fame on a cushion

It has arrived at last. MY cushion. The one I modelled for. It's soft and velvety and smells new and I love it. This is going to be my special seat now. I can even watch TV from this spot.My friend Anna is one of the best textile artists there is. I think she must love me very much. You could find her at www.annasteiner.com

The art of back turning.

I did not do it! It wasn't me and if it was I wasn't there. Somebody spilled my alfalfa all over the carpet and I got the blame as usual.There's only one thing a rabbit can do in such circumstances and that is, turn his back. If you don't want to be talked to, turn your back. If they try to blame you for something, turn your back. If you want to object to anything at all, turn your back. It might seem a bit rude at first but it's the only solution if you can't make the sounds a human makes. Back turning is an art because once you have done it you have to stick to your guns. If you give way, if they wave a piece of carrot under your nose and you turn towards it you are lost.
Then there were the grumbles while I was roootling around in my litter tray this morning. Must you make such a racket, Harvey, we're trying to listen to the weather forecast they said. For goodness sake, can't they look out of the window at the weather? Digging a reasonable space in my litter is what I do best and it takes time. Anyway, I like the noise and it keeps me in training for scrape making in the garden and it's the only way to get into exactly the right position every time for...you know what. I need to make sure I hit the right spot . It's my ritual and bunnies need rituals.

Huh! Whose house is this anyway!

Not Again please!

In case all my friends think I have an easy life, that I live like a lord, that I am a spoilt rabbit who doesn't appreciate his luxurious lifestyle, take a look at this.Do I hear shouts of unfair to rabbits? Are you crying into your hay? Are you stamping your back foot and tossing your water dish in the air? I hope so.

They call this de-fluffing. I call it criminal.

I have carefully pointed out to them on many occasions that I will not be groomed with a a brush so what do they do? They grab me while I am dozing peacefully, hoist me onto the bench, hold me down in a half nelson with one hand and have the temerity to yank out great clumps of my beautiful, powder-puff fur with the other leaving the most unsightly bald patches near my er, tail.

Even worse, they were taught how to do this by my vet! The man I thought was my friend. The man every rabbit should turn to at least twice a year to maintain his healthy lifestyle. Well, think again friends.

Then sometimes when I look at the photograph my friend Celia Haddon sent of a rabbit in her garden in the snow with his myxi eye and his desperate nibbling of her Eleagnus bush to prevent starvation, I pull my cuddle blanket over my head and count my blessings. Moulting time is nothing in the great scheme of things is it?

January

Sometimes there's not much to write in my diary and January is one of those times. The doors and windows are shut so there's no point in sitting on the doorstep and it's not worth climbing onto the window sill so I have no idea what's going on in the garden.

I don't mind much because my house is my domain and people-training sessions fill my days. That and bed making which is much like making scrapes so I keep my hand in ready for garden maintenance when the time comes. I can go on scrabbling with my paws and tugging my comfort blankets with my teeth for hours on end. It's very therapeutic.

Sometimes J joins in. She pulls my blanket over my head and we play Where's Harvey? Then I poke my head out and say Here I am. It gives her something to do and I quite enjoy it.

A dog came to visit the other evening and I had to stay in the kitchen. His name is Bingo. When he had gone I had to check about to see if he had been in any of my places. He had. I could smell him. He had even been on my sofa but I don't think he had any of my carrot. Afterwards I wouldn't take anything from J's hand until she had washed them thoroughly. I prefer the smell of soap to the smell of dog.

Did you forget to mention you have taken a great interest in the carpet fringe, Harve? Has it become one of your best friends?