Tuesday, February 7th, 2006 09:51 pm
and i am a needy owner of a rabbit
Apparently, it is not all fun and fur when owning a rabbit. After bribing him with a new bed, a carrot shaped chew toy, and a wooden structure that looks suspiciously like something Child played with as an infant, Reginald the Rabbit deigned to look at me directly before wandering off.
Rabbits are moody.
This is what I have learned:
1.) Do not pick up Reginald. Those claws are not decorative, and they find bare skin like a laser guided missile. He will also leap suicidally from your arms onto any avaiable surface. Yes. I understand now.
2.) Do not willy-nilly pet Reginald. He will sometimes, if you are good and the moon is blue, sit still in your general vicinity long enough to allow you to gently pet his head for a very brief time. He reserves the right, however, to unexpectedly get up and wander off. At a disturbingly fast run. The story of the tortise and the hare now makes some epic sense. Some people might call it *teleportation*.
3.) Do not try to bribe Reginald with bananas--aka Rabbit Heroin. He will eat them out of your hand, but will leave you the second they are gone. You are not buying his love. You are not going to be his dealer that will trade pets for forbidden foods.
4.) You can sit in one stationary place and he will crawl over to you and sniff/rub/mark you with scent, and sometimes, even let you look at him, as a gift for being so still. You would think this would be a good thing, except rabbits also leave scent with droppings. Thank you, Reginald, for that bit of trauma on my back and my lap. No, really. It means so much.
5.) Reginald can teleport. No, really. No, seriously.
6.) See number four, scent markers, and how very much he wants to mark all of the den and dining room.
7.) My rabbit does not love me. I am reduced to reading up on rabbit psychology and rabbit behavior. On *multiple websites*. I am reduced to reading the psychology of a freaking rabbit. Reginald apparently is showing a lot of behavior associatd with, say, deep and powerful loathing, mixed with pity. I am pitied by my rabbit.
8.) The lizard likes me. The scary reptile that I have to feed live crickets likes me. Dearest God. Is this a huge cosmic joke?
For information, because nothing is more fascinating than listening to other people talk about their pets: Reginald is a Netherlands dwarf, about eight weeks old, dusty black, highly intelligent, emotionally manipulative, and capable of making me chase him around the room for attention for two hours while Child and Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon watch in amusement.
I have been whipped by a rabbit. Somehow, this seems almost inevitable.
Rabbits are moody.
This is what I have learned:
1.) Do not pick up Reginald. Those claws are not decorative, and they find bare skin like a laser guided missile. He will also leap suicidally from your arms onto any avaiable surface. Yes. I understand now.
2.) Do not willy-nilly pet Reginald. He will sometimes, if you are good and the moon is blue, sit still in your general vicinity long enough to allow you to gently pet his head for a very brief time. He reserves the right, however, to unexpectedly get up and wander off. At a disturbingly fast run. The story of the tortise and the hare now makes some epic sense. Some people might call it *teleportation*.
3.) Do not try to bribe Reginald with bananas--aka Rabbit Heroin. He will eat them out of your hand, but will leave you the second they are gone. You are not buying his love. You are not going to be his dealer that will trade pets for forbidden foods.
4.) You can sit in one stationary place and he will crawl over to you and sniff/rub/mark you with scent, and sometimes, even let you look at him, as a gift for being so still. You would think this would be a good thing, except rabbits also leave scent with droppings. Thank you, Reginald, for that bit of trauma on my back and my lap. No, really. It means so much.
5.) Reginald can teleport. No, really. No, seriously.
6.) See number four, scent markers, and how very much he wants to mark all of the den and dining room.
7.) My rabbit does not love me. I am reduced to reading up on rabbit psychology and rabbit behavior. On *multiple websites*. I am reduced to reading the psychology of a freaking rabbit. Reginald apparently is showing a lot of behavior associatd with, say, deep and powerful loathing, mixed with pity. I am pitied by my rabbit.
8.) The lizard likes me. The scary reptile that I have to feed live crickets likes me. Dearest God. Is this a huge cosmic joke?
For information, because nothing is more fascinating than listening to other people talk about their pets: Reginald is a Netherlands dwarf, about eight weeks old, dusty black, highly intelligent, emotionally manipulative, and capable of making me chase him around the room for attention for two hours while Child and Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon watch in amusement.
I have been whipped by a rabbit. Somehow, this seems almost inevitable.