Sunday, April 8, 2007

Rabbits we have known

Gave the rabbit a toxic-powder dousing this morning. It's to keep his fur beautiful and free of tiny creatures, but he hates it so we don't do it enough so he looks like an old carpet. A happy old carpet, though.

We've had house-rabbits for years because they're funny and fiendishly clever. We used to have one who slept across our bedroom doorway all night, popping up and downstairs to his litter tray as necessary. When the cats first met him, one of them took a swaggering swipe across his nose and he bit her briskly and deeply on the ankle. Since then, rabbits reign.

When we came to France we had two. They hated each other because we had been wrongly sold a baby male to keep the existing male company when his female died. Naturally the old male took great offence at this pointless interloper, and they spent a year ripping each other into bloodied pieces.

However, our move to France involved an agonising ten-hour drive with two cats and two buns in the back of a very tiny car, George and I snarling at each other every time we got lost and me hyperventilating my way down the wrong side of the road. When we finally got here the rabbits were too miserable even to heave themselves out of the travel-boxes.

But next morning... they were so thrilled to have come through this hideous trauma together that they fell rapturously in love, and were inseparable till the elder died last year.

We've decided not to get another, so Final Bun spends a lot of his time companionably doing whatever we're doing. Every so often he flings himself on his back with eyes closed and legs waving in the air - a sure sign of bunny delight.

He likes it when we do it, too.

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