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.

Outdoor problems

The buzzard is flying high across the valley today which doesn't bother me unduly as long as he stays there. I have more pressing problems closer to home now the garden birds are in action and raising their broods. They attract all the local cats with their twittering and fluttering and might just as well hire PA equipment and shout,"Attention all moggies! A happy nesting time to you! Here we are, ready for the chase and by the way, there's a tasty bunny here as well."

Next door's cats Big Kenny and Mollie know they have to stay away from my part of the garden but a black and white bully has moved into the neighbourhood and is terrorising everybody. He has a red collar and very obvious male bits. He sprays anything and everything and has even been through Ken and Moll's cat flap, duffed poor Kenny up and sprayed their hall. He needs sorting out but I wouldn't want to be the one to do it. As a prey animal it's better to keep my head down and get on with my diary. I wonder if the buzzard has spotted him yet. That red collar is a dead give away even from a distance. Mmm, I'll just sit on the doorstep, might see something to my advantage.

Cats and foxes are a problem and Harve is very small. We always stay with him outside although he doesn't seem inclined to venture far. I planted patches of grass, carrot, parsley and mint but he still goes for the valerian, rose petals and something that looks a bit like clover. Gosh, he's stubborn.

Early Days

It's time for more about the early days before I came to live here. The story is quite sad but has a happy ending. This is Willow.

Changes to my life began about two years ago around New Year. As I said in I Knew I Was Special, I was living with Joanne, Simon, Willow the dog and Summer the blue cat. Suddenly I didn't see so much of Joanne and I spent more time on my own. Don't misunderstand me, I was very fond of my garden house and was well cared for but I missed my long play times with the family. It wasn't long before I heard snatches of conversation and words I did not understand. I knew carrot and no, Harvey and bedtime but not these new ones. Cancer and operation were strange sounds to me and my Joanne cried a lot. She was only thirty eight years old at the time, I was four so in rabbit years we were pretty much the same age.

The other thing that happened about the same time was an addition to their family, another Hungarian Vizsla. A puppy. What bad timing. She was absolutely manic and tried to catch me and toss me about. Willow had no influence on her at all neither did Joanne nor Simon.

Poor old Summer had her own problems. Her food bowl was always empty. Things looked very bad for my freedom but then my life took an unexpected turn and I was taken to live with the family's older generation. I had always spent my holidays with them as the only pet in the house so nothing was strange or scary. I knew all the best places to sit and where the softest patches of soil were in the garden so I could make a good scrape to doze in. My litter tray and food bowl were in the same place and there was a great smelling cardboard box which used to hold vegetables given to me to use as a basket. From that moment I became a full time house bunny and as you have already heard, a very important one at that.

Joanne is fine now and comes to see me very often as she lives nearby. She is going to run the Edinburgh marathon on Saturday to raise money for breast cancer research wearing a fancy decorated bra on top of her other running clothes. I hope I don't have to see that.

And our life changed! Harve took to the house like a duck to water. We began by having his hutch indoors thinking he would need the familiar. Wrong! He sticks to us like glue on a shoe and we were assimilated into his life on his terms. Having always kept cats we have been bowled over by his uninhibited show of affection, companionship and confidence. Who would have thought so much love could be given by such a tiny scrap of fur.