BEE-AAAA-TRIX!
BEATRIX PLODDER!
CUTELITTLEFURRYBLACKCREATURE!
MOMMY’S LITTLE BUNNY WABBIT!
TAPTAP IT TAPTAP IT – IT’S A LITTLE BLACK RABBIT!

Bea is my first bunny, and this is her song. We purchased her at a pet store (impulse buy before Easter) without knowing anything about rabbits. She quickly became an excellent bunny teacher. When we got her, nearly 10 years ago, the sales clerk said, “She’s not bigger than a minute.” But she was feisty—still is.

I have loved animals all my life—furry, feathered, and finned—all have had a place in my heart, but no creature has had the ability to wrap itself around my heart like a bunny. The only comparison I can think of is the feelings of love I had for my own daughter when she was a newborn. Some people think that’s a little strange, but Bea was the perfect baby substitute for me when I could not have any more children.

I no longer think of Bea as a baby--in bunny years she’s about as old as my grandmother (94). She has that wise look of the ancient in her eyes now, and I respect her as a beloved friend. As I mentioned earlier, Bea has been a great teacher. The first thing she taught me was that rabbits are not cats or dogs (make no mistake about it!). Over the years she has taught me about various health issues of rabbits—everything from nutrition, importance of spaying, bladder stones, importance of fiber, abscessed teeth, proper housing, healthy toys, litter training, and bonding. I’ve also learned bunny language and behavior, proper rabbit etiquette, and just how special and amazingly smart these little creatures are.

When Bea was still an only bunny she had a lot more freedom in the house. She would run across the hardwood floor, put on the brakes and come to a sliding halt, much to our delight, and, I think, hers. She taught us about bunny flops and that rabbits have a sense of humor. You know how little bunnies, and sometimes older bunnies, too, will suddenly throw themselves down in a flop and if you didn’t know about bunnies before you think they have suddenly keeled over dead? When you go over to see if they are still breathing they look up at you like, “What?!” I think they get a kick out of that.

Bea seemed to learn English much quicker than any of my dogs or cats ever did. Or, maybe she and other bunnies just listen better. She learned “no” very quickly and still responds to it better than my daughter does. She knows “scoot, scoot” for when I want her to come out from under the bed, hop back in her cage, or get back in the bunny room. She knows “Hop in the box” will get her easy transport out of and back into her cage when it’s on the stand. If I say “Do you want to come out and play?” Bea will hop in the box. If she doesn’t I know she’s not interested at that time. She knows the word “salad” and has an uncanny ability to know exactly when the fridge door opens and a treat is headed her way. “Apple snacks” gets a quick response, too.

Bea’s favorite food in the world is Italian parsley. Once, when she was still very young, I was trying to lure her out from under the bed with a sprig of parsley. I thought I had her, but the bunny was quicker than the eye. Before I realized what had happened a little black nose had darted from under the dust ruffle, snatched the greens, and disappeared again.

Bea is proof, I think, that bunnies have at least nine lives if not more. I have loved her back from the brink of death on several occasions when she went totally anorexic with various medical problems. I have agonized over her health as if she were my own child. The last time she nearly died I fought with her for what seemed like weeks, force-feeding, medicating, coaxing with all her favorite foods, receiving many bites and scratches along the way. Finally, I gave up. I said, “Bea, you must eat or you will die. I don’t want you to die. I would miss you terribly if you did, but if it is your time, if you are ready, it’s okay, I can handle it.” The next day she started eating again and hasn’t stopped. At the time, I promised I would never put her in a cage again, and I didn’t for some time. But bunnies have a way of multiplying in my house—even when all of them are spayed. For her own safety, safety of the other rabbits, and my sanity, Bea is back in a cage (with frequent outings). Her cage sits on a stand high above the other bunnies (rabbits can inflict nasty bites even through the bars). She doesn’t miss a thing that happens in the bunny room. She watches with great interest when other bunnies are having their play time out. She checks in on all the others when she’s out. When the young bunnies are making mischief Bea looks at me as if to say, “Aren’t you going to do something about them?”

Beatrix has given me the sweetest bunny kisses and the nastiest bunny bites and every kind of bunny adventure I could ever imagine. If I had it all to do over again, knowing all I do now, I wouldn’t hesitate to walk out of that pet store with her again.

FLOPSY MOPSY COTTONTAIL!
FLOPSY MOPSY DOODLE OOO!
FLOPS-A-ROO!
THE SUNSHINE BUNNY!

Flopsy is the second bunny to join us in our home, and the oldest. We think she is around 11 in people years. Flopsy’s first owners were 4H people. For four or five years Flopsy went by the name of Fudge (maybe because she’s so sweet, but if I were inclined to name my pets after food, she’d have to be Caramel as she is exactly the color of that candy with the white cream in the middle). As a beautiful Holland Lop, Flopsy was a show bunny, and a breeder bunny. We don’t know how many babies she had or how many blue ribbons she won, but that doesn’t matter to us. She lived in a small cage outside with other rabbits and a barking dog nearby. Her only shelter from wind or rain was a tarp pulled over the cage as needed. She lived on alfalfa pellets alone with only hay during the winter, to keep her weight in check for showing. Her owners were ready to retire her and no longer had time for her and thus were giving her away. I fell in love with Flopsy at first sight. While talking with her former owner I learned that at least one other bunny in their family had ended up on a dinner plate (because it was a biter!*). We wasted no time bringing Flopsy home and into the house. We thought that Bea may be lonely and needed a bunny friend. We were wrong. Bea had bonded with me and saw Flopsy as an intruder in her territory. Try as we might, we have never gotten Bea and Flopsy to be friends. One of their first scuffles left Flopsy missing a portion of one of her beautiful loppy ears. It had been pierced and tattooed for showing purposes, and it tore easily in the fight. I was broken-hearted. After many attempts we decided that Bea and Flopsy must be kept separate, although they do tolerate being in the same room. Recently, Flopsy took a bite out of Bea’s nose. Bea stuck her nose through the bars even though I warned her, and the old girl was quick with her teeth. I guess they are even now.

Other than being beautiful and glamorous, we soon discovered that Flopsy had talent as well. She used to love to push a large ball around with her nose—bunny soccer. She also hummed as she scooted along. It was a charming sound, but to our dismay, after she was spayed she stopped humming.

Flopsy was very skittish when she first came to us. She would dart about so fast, slip sliding on the floor, bumping into things when startled, we were afraid she would harm herself. So, she has been confined to various cages over time (all larger than the one she used to live in) with individual time out for playing. Over the last year she has gone blind in one eye and bumps into things while she’s out. The solution: an open fence enclosure in the bunny room. She is flat on the floor without having to hop in or out of anything (except the litter pan and her new “toy”). She has a little hideaway to go into when she’s not feeling sociable, and blankies all around to make hopping about softer. A tarp on the floor keeps her from slipping, and protects the floor. Flopsy’s new toy is a large plastic pan—the kind used to mix cement in (about $5 at Lowes) with topsoil, newspaper, and hay to dig in. She had been scratching on the tarp in her hideaway for some while and I knew she just wanted to be a rabbit and dig. Since I can’t turn her loose outside I brought the dirt in to her. She hops in that pan and digs to her little heart’s content. Yes, it’s messy, cleanup is a pain, but Flopsy seems to be enjoying it so much. At her age every day is a blessing so I figure whatever Flopsy wants, Flopsy gets. She naps a lot these days, when not digging. I know that all too soon she will go to sleep forever, but as long as I have anything to do with it, she’s going to enjoy every minute of her retirement. And, because age has its privileges, she eats all the applesauce she wants.