Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Grumpy Old Bun

Feeling gloomy and neglected in the dismal springtime, our aged houserabbit Olly had a cunning plan: pretend to be ill and get pampered to death.


And our aim was exactly that because, just like Roland before him, he suddenly lost almost all the use of his back legs. Like Roland therefore, he wouldn't last much longer; we must make his final days very happy. We began showering him with favourite greens and oats, letting him select only the colourful bits of his dry mix, and giving him constant attention until his body gently gave up.


It is two months now. His appetite is greater than ever, he loves the pampering, and he has perfected methods of making demands; he only has to raise his head and glower and we rush over to proffer a banana chip and stroke his furry brow. If we have misunderstood his demand, he growls like a bear. If we hold his parsley incorrectly, he snarls and gives us a nip. From time to time he even manages to convey a martyr'd, "No, you go - I'll be alright..."


We're uneasy about inviting anyone to the house since, in spite of daily dunking of his nethers, the fragrance of bun is all-pervading. (You can always tell when someone's trying to hold their breath).


What do we do? Two months ago we had the trauma of imminent loss; now we have the trauma of perpetual hanging-in-there.

Oh damn! He'll probably leave us out of his Will now.

7 comments:

farming-frenchstyle said...

Know what you mean about hanging in there. I have a lamb just the same, can't move, wont move. At least she is outside in the sheep shed, so no problems with people visiting. Our problem is with the chickens coming into the house after the crumbs on the floor and the dog food (and the crapping in the process).

Dolores Doolittle said...

Hello farming-frenchstyle

Poor little lamb - I hope he got a bit of gambolling in before he decided to stay put.

Chickens are hilarious. When we feed a friend's birds, they come hurtling across the garden while we're still down the lane - so clever. And they mutter constantly - I love 'em. (except for the crap).

Jon Doust said...

Dolores! I've just spent a happy hour reading your blog, which, fool that I am, I did not know you were writing.

One thing though - I cannot comment on the later entries you have made: is this deliberate or just one of those IT mysteries?

Dolores Doolittle said...

Crikey, hello Jon - how splendid to see you here and thank you Hugely for your kind words!

I'm mortified that comments aren't possible on the later ones - I've obviously done something stupid which I shall investigate IMMEDIATELY!

By the way, can I ask how you landed here, because I wish more people did. (I recently set up a stat-counter, but single figures didn't seem worth pursuing).

Jon Doust said...

Ah - I clicked by chance on your avatar on the DT site, found you had a blog there (which I had a look through) and then saw you had another blog listed on your profile.

I've added you to the blogroll on my personal site and shall shortly be contriving to add it onto my Telegraph blog, so you may see a couple of people arriving from those. I hope so - your blog is very, very funny.

Dolores Doolittle said...

Thank you zillions - Please Marry Me.

By the way, still working on the comment-enabling - I did as directed and it ignored me.
('twas ever thus)

Dolores Doolittle said...

Jon - just cracked the Comment thing - Hurraaaay.

This, of course, will be of no interest whatsoever to you now, but wanted to thank you for pointing it because it would never have dawned on me!