I knew I was special

The day I got my first e-mail from Las Vegas I knew I was special. It read, Dear Harvey, would you like to explore a career as a Forensic Expert or Law Enforcement Officer? The second temptingly offered a "momentum slim down" ... I could lose 6lbs in two days and a third promised help to buy property in the tropical paradise of Costa Rica.

My family blocked my incoming mail after that. Not because they doubted my capabilities, it was just that I am a five year old, black, dwarf lop-eared house rabbit and nobody wanted me to emigrate to take up a position so far from home. My vet did offer to check out the Costa Rica paradise for me, which was kind but they all wondered how someone had managed to break into our system and mistake me for a human in spite of Firewall and other such protection. The second indication of my importance is an excellent photograph of me, back view only, on my friend Celia Haddon's website. If you click on "Can my rabbit use a cat flap?", there I am, watching TV from my favourite viewing place. Finally, Celia's book, "One Hundred Ways to a Happy Bunny" has been dedicated to, guess who? Yep. Me!

I must have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth because I was found in a pet shop by Joanne. She took me with her and gave me a lovely home. It had two floors with a ramp to reach the first where there was a cosy bedroom and a sitting room. My food and water were here and my large litter tray was downstairs with plenty of hay and straw. As soon as Joanne came home from work I was allowed to play in the garden with Willow, the dog. In cold weather we both spent more time indoors until bed. Summer, a blue cat, was too snooty to play with us but life was good. Changes began two years ago but I will tell you more about that another day.

There was a fourth e-mail which we kept from Harve. It was addressed this time to the 'Rabbitt Family'! He was getting a bit too big for his boots as you can tell so allowing him to think he was head of the clan would have made him impossible to live with.

E mail from Canada

There was e-mail from family in Niagara-on-the-Lake today. "Come over and bring the little guy with you," they said. Little guy? What do they mean? Now, chap I think is an acceptable English mode of address. Bunny- bun- bun makes me cringe and Harvey-Nicks, well, what do you think?
When visitors come for the first time and see me flopping out in front of the television they say things like," Oh look, there's a rabbit." That's what I am so it's ok but what were they expecting? An aardvark? Or they ask, "Where's his hutch?" Another non-starter. After spending some time under the table with me another family friend announced, "He's a Cog!" He'd noticed, very cleverly for a human, that rabbits clean themselves like cats and are hospitable like dogs but that's where it ends. I am vegetarian so I don't smell the way dogs do and I can't be sick all over the place like cats. Rabbits don't do sick nor leave messes all over lawns for humans to pick up. Pretty perfect eh?
A lot of care should be taken when choosing a name for a house bunny. Buster is quite manly I think And Fred. On the whole people who have house rabbits are sensible. If you look through any RWA magazine you will see what I mean. You can find out all about it by putting www. Rabbit Welfare Association into your machine.
If I become even more famous I might change my name to Napoleon or Nelson. Either one would suit my personality perfectly.
By the way, something new has been stuck on the wall beside my food bowls. I think it says "Home Sweet Home." That's nice.





Why all the fuss about a name all of a sudden? He only answers to a call if it suits him or if there might be something food related in the offing. Otherwise he uses the back turning trick.

Out of hiding

I have just come out of hiding, saved once again by the forest of table and chair legs I use as my haven. Why was I hiding? A signal for poop-check time sent me diving for cover. I can tell things are getting dangerous when they both come into the utility room at food time. If they shut the door behind them there is no escape and I have to suffer being picked up while my, well, my personal bits are inspected. Normally a quick check is all I need but if I have missed a bit at wash and brush up time they might decide to snip a piece of my fur. That's when I complain. We rabbits are supposed to be silent creatures but let me tell you I can grumble and grouse with the best of them. I can sing too, as I hop along when I'm happy which is most of the time. Then I can do a special sort of chortle in my throat when my primary care giver is cuddling me on the floor. It's a sort of purr and you can feel it under my chin, if I let you.

Hello, someone is whistling. That means food. It will be juicy grass at this time of the day. They put it in my hay bowl but I can pick out every single blade without touching anything else. Gotta go.

What a performance! All for a few seconds bottom check. If he anticipates it he sets off round the house like a heat seeking missile and once he is installed under the kitchen table or the piano he is impossible to get at. He would know what distress is if he ever got Flystrike. It will soon be time for an application of Rearguard to prevent this awful problem of flies laying their eggs in rabbit faeces. Because of all his cleaning it makes him a bit off colour for a couple of days but being eaten alive by maggots is unthinkable.

Toys

I would like to state categorically and especially bun-egorically to rabbit experts of the world, I do not like toys. I see no point in a rope carrot (what a disappointment) a jingle ball, (what is it for) or a cardboard box full of bits for scrabbling in. I mean, why am I scrabbling? To what end? If I want a treat I sit in my basket on my back legs beside the fridge whenever someone opens the door.

A few weeks ago I found a cardboard box with paper, straw etc in the utility room, a place I use for breakfast and for my litter but why would I want to spend time there when I have the rest of the house at my disposal? I did my bit for them, naturally. I looked at it then turned my back, which should have been a big enough hint but they picked me up and put me in it. I sat there, nibbled a bit of paper, put it down then jumped out. Would you give up an Aga, a cosy rug, TV and the possibility of the odd fallen cornflake for a tiled floor and an old cardboard box full of shredded paper? I don't think so. It is not on my list of things I must include in my life. Like the rope carrot.

You might be forgiven for thinking I'm playing if you see me flicking through the pages of a book left on the floor but I am merely checking the plot to make sure it is suitable reading for my primary care giver. A newspaper is ok to sit on for a few minutes while I nibble the edges and I can sniff out a piece of carrot in a cardboard roll in a second. You pick up one end and the carrot roles out the other. Where's the skill in that? A paper towel screwed up can hide a juicy raisin or two but if it has been folded too tightly, well, who cares. Back to the television I say.

The bottom line here is, I do not do floor shows with shop bought items. Now, when we have visitors I am willing to help with entertaining. I scrabble around under the curtain puddle ( my indoor burrow) and stick my head out now and again to surprise them. That goes down well. And I always follow them into the hall when they leave, to help them on their way. These are small things a well mannered house rabbit should know but playing with rope carrots? No thanks, please do not underestimate my intelligence.

Harve thinks he has trained us to give him treats whenever he hurtles into his basket beside the refrigerator. He tries this on if he sees the door open. He doesn't miss a trick. The box full of shredded paper was removed. He eventually pee'd in it. We got the message.

I placed a stool under the window seat for easy access to a look out point. He made use of it straight away, hopped up and down two or three times and that was it. Curiosity satisfied, he hasn't bothered with it again. Been there! Done that! He will invent his own occupational therapy, thank you. They say there is no such thing as a normal child. Replace child with house rabbit and you are getting to know Harve.

The nicest compliment I ever had

The nicest compliment I ever had was paid to me by my doctor, Kim. "I love his little front legs," she said. Now you might not think this is a big deal but when I tell you that Kim has come from Australia you will see the magnificence of the words. Australians are not generally big on rabbits. It's an historical fact. I think in some states people are banned from keeping them as pets. I could be wrong. There is an Australian House Rabbit Society so if anyone out there is reading this you could let me know. Kim said she couldn't believe the popularity of pet bunnies when she first came here. She and her husband Simon are famous as cat and rabbit care specialists. That proves how influential a rabbit and his little front legs can be. The extraordinary thing about them is the way they can walk, individually, like dogs, while back legs hop forward together to meet them. Try getting your dog or cat to do that! If a rabbit can win over an Australian with his little front legs, the world is his oyster.

The vet's actual words were, "I love THEIR little front legs. Harvey has selective hearing most of the time but on this occasion we can forgive him. Knowing how edgy he gets on the examination table he needs all the confidence he can muster.