There's an awful smell in my kitchen now the decorator has gone. The utility room isn't too bad so I'm having my afternoon snoozes in there. My sense of smell is superb. As soon as a banana has the skin peeled, my nose goes into sniffing action. I can track it down in seconds. My eyesight is not as good as it was but we're all in the same boat in this house so it doesn't matter much. We understand one another and make allowances.

It's ok in daylight and when the house lights are on, otherwise I hop from one room to another more slowly than I used to and stop more often to get my bearings. I was a superb speed runner in my kitten days. I'd dash from room to room like a flash of lightening. They once threatened to tie a bell round my neck like that chocolate rabbit so they could hear me coming. My excellent sense of smell makes up for my poor sight as long as my familiar tracks from room to room are clear.

I'm still a bit messy every morning and need a regular rear end bath. That's when J grumbles about her sense of smell being too good. I don't suppose that will change now. I can't bend that extra little bit to reach right down there to clean myself properly even though I try so hard for ages and ages. J asked the vet if he saw many bunnies with my problem. He said he did, mostly buns with flat faces who were a bit over-bulbous at one end. Like me, they all come for a regular rear end shave.Things could be worse at my age. I'll be ten in a few months time. That's not a bad age for a rabbit. I love my life and my flat face.

I can still see well enough to help with the clean curtains. Got to put my smell on them first though.

Samantha

More unusual news from Canada for my diary. A gorilla called Samantha who lives in a zoo in Pensylvania has a new companion. Her bonded partner died and she is too old to make friends with another gorilla so Panda, a Dutch rabbit felt sorry for her and has moved in to keep her company. They share food and Samantha tickles Panda under her chin. I like a chin tickle myself

It's raining hard today so that duck hasn't come out of her hiding place. She doesn't like rain. Niether do I. We've decided to keep the back door shut just in case. She has such messy feet. Does she know she's a duck? Daffy would have been a better name than Daisy for her.

Daisy

Oh, bother! That duck is back and she's marching in and out of my house as cheeky as you like. I think she must know I'm not a cat or a dog because she looks straight through me as if I'm not there. She has been looking around for a nesting place but it's a bit too early and there's nothing tall enough in my flower borders for her to hide in. Well, she's not coming into my kitchen to lay eggs that's for sure.

A few well executed binkies should give her the hint if she tries that on.

I can't understand why my family is so pleased about it. They keep saying how clever she is not to have been shot. I suppose I'll just have to get used to the idea of sharing my garden again this year. I don't use it much anyway. A house rabbit has other jobs to do.

Breaking the rabbit habit

I am being de-conditioned, de- sensitised and detoxed. It's hard to admit it but I have to face the fact, I am a fringe addict. All the carpet fringes have been turned under because I'm chewing them all the time. Chewy mat, hay bag, willow ball and lots of other once interesting things are all being ignored while I sit and chew and nibble the carpet fringe. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm hooked. It lies there, tantalising and tempting, compelling me to pick it up in my mouth and nibble, nibble, nibbleNobody seemed interested to start with until they noticed some of my droppings were coming out attached to a piece of carpet fringe like a string of Christmas tree decorations. They know I'm an arty sort of chap so I thought they would have been pleased but when it happened more than once they decided to take me in hand.Why do I do it? Am I imagining I'm in a field of juicy grass or trimming my pot of parsley by the back door? Who knows.
I sit beside the carpet edge where the fringe used to be and I wait and wait and wait.
It's all making me have bad dreams. The last one was so awful I shot out of my bed and flew to my hidey hole and stamped my foot over and over again. Maybe I was dreaming I was being chased by a fox or a greyhound. I've heard about these things but thought they were just fairy tales to frighten kits when they were misbehaving.
All was well though. They heard me and cuddled me on the floor until I felt better. Thank goodness I don't live in a hutch. I could have had an apoplectic fit or something even more dramatic. I enjoy a bit of drama.

Cut and blo dry.

There's one thing about going to the vet, you realise you are not the only one with problems. Mine was the usual one this time, the rear end shave. It took ages because they chatted about all kinds of things instead of just getting on with the job and getting it over. I lay there in the most ungainly and unmanly position while they discussed new web sites and how to take a cat's blood pressure instead of concentrating on me. My skin around that area is tissue paper thin and needs very delicate handling. I was very impressed with Cleo the cat who was in the waiting room with me. She made a huge fuss and palava in her carrying cage to let everybody know how much she objected to being there. She shredded her newspaper bedding and spread it all over the place. I knew just how she felt.

She is nearly nineteen so is very experienced at showing her displeasure. Her human mum just smiled and said, "She always does that when she comes here." Of course she does. How else can she explain she isn't happy and wants to go home.
I'm going to practice my shredding technique today.

Not good news

There's going to be a new vaccine for me later this year. They have combined my myxie jab with the VHD so it will protect me from both horrible diseases.
The trouble is, I don't have the VHD vaccination because it makes me quite poorly. I used to get a very high temperature which lasted for days and I didn't feel like eating or drinking and everybody was worried. My vet said because there was no VHD close to us and as I'm a house rabbit I didn't need to have it until he knew the disease was coming to my area then he would let us know. Anyway, I won't have a choice from now on. I expect they will take good care of me so I'm not going to worry until it happens.

I'm making a list of special treats to have if I'm not very well. Mashed banana with sugar will be number one then maybe crunchie nut cornflakes and then digestive biscuits. I bet they won't let me have them, because they'll say it will be bad for my teeth but I can dream.One thing's for sure, I will get a bedtime story about my favourite Tom Kitten.

It's a rabbit!

The day isn't going well. Here I am,just getting ready for my afternoon snooze when some people come to the house to collect things for a raffle. They haven't been before and they spot me under the table.
"Oh, look, it's a rabbit!"

"Yes," agrees J. She's heard this before.

"That's unusual isn't it? A rabbit in the house. Where does it live?" (IT?)

"He's a house rabbit. He lives wherever he wants to."

They are country people and still don't understand so she explains again."He lives like a cat."

"Doesn't he run away when the door's open?"

"No, he doesn't like going out much unless we're gardening, then he might. If it's warm."

I think the penny is beginning to drop but they keep on digging.

"Um, doesn't he make a mess? You know, rabbits do don't they?"

J tries again."He has a litter tray, like a cat. Sometimes there are bits about the place.

This is getting personal so I turn my back, flop out, yawn and close my eyes.

"Do you let it wander all over the house?" (Still, IT)
"He used to but we don't let him go upstairs since his hernia trouble. The climbing could make it worse.."
"Hernia, in a rabbit, oh wow!"
I snore loudly.
"It's SNORING!" They make embarrassed giggles of disbelief. Hey, spot on, I think.
"Yes," J agrees. He does a lot of that."
They shake their heads. "A snoring rabbit with a hernia. Well! That's a first."

They pick up the raffle prizes and leave. I don't bother going to the door to see them off. I don't even open my eyes. I snore loudly again.

"Hush, Harve," J says waspishly. "Don't be so rude."

Me? Rude? Me? That's rich.