A month ago, Bunty and I went out to buy cat laxative, and came home with a rabbit. We had been missing our previous rabbit, who died in November, and it had been odd not having one about the place to chase the cats. The cats were getting fat and constipated. We had wandered over to the rehoming area of the store – ” just for a look”, we told each other. Not to adopt anyone, nooo, nothing like that. And then this rabbit took advantage of our vulnerability with his eccentric ears and clumsy feet. We didn’t stand a chance.
We agreed that there was no harm in asking about the rabbits up for adoption, and it didn’t mean we were going to adopt any. It was simple curiosity, that’s all. The sign said this rabbit was called Sprinkles and, as he still had his testicles, we assumed the name was a comment on his house training; but it transpired that one of the employees had named him it because it sounded “Christmassy”. Information about his previous life was mostly lacking: no name, no age, no breed, and nothing to say whether he had been a hutch rabbit or a house rabbit. All the shop girl knew was that he had belonged to some children and had been given away because he was “very nervous” and “in need of a patient owner”.
He didn’t look at all nervous to us. But it didn’t matter, because we weren’t adopting, were we? We thanked the girl and said we’d think about it. She put the bunny back, and some kids came along and saw him and said they wanted him for Christmas, and five minutes later Bunty and I were walking out the door with him and an adoption receipt.
We have renamed him Broccles, because he answers to it and because his ears are shaped like broccoli leaves. The first thing he did upon being released into the living room was greet all the other animals. The cats were aghast. Their bowels have been functioning smoothly ever since.