This is Flystrike in Rabbits (graphic content)

This article is about how one of our rabbits got the worst case of flystrike our vet had ever seen.

Last night, about half an hour after I posted my last article, I got called outside by my husband. One of our rabbits, Sebastian, was lying on his side in his run, his eyes looked sort of dead but he was still breathing/moving. I wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with him, I examined him as much as I could, I actually thought he’d broken his spine. There was literally nothing showing on the outside of his body at this point. I don’t have any pictures of how we found him because I wrapped him in a towel, phoned the vet, and, upon realizing we had no car and that no taxi in the universe was going to take a sick rabbit to a vet, I ran the 2 miles to the vet, carrying the bunny in my arms wrapped in the towel, trying my best to hold him gently, with my husband alongside, carrying the rabbit carry case (because the angle the rabbit was found at, he wouldn’t actually go in our extra large carry case which is actually for my Jack Russell terrier, even though Sebastian is a Netherland Dwarf, the smallest pet bunny breed).

When I got to the vet, they were fantastic.  They literally threw out a woman mid-consult so they could take in our rabbit (I apologized profusely to her) and they got him straight to the medical area in the back.

Exhausted from the run, I went to the Spar next to the vet’s to get a coca cola, because I needed some liquid sugary crap in my system. When I got back to the waiting area, they called us straight through.

Sebastian had the worst case of fly strike the vet had ever seen in her decade or more of clinical practice. He had to be put to sleep immediately, and we held him and my husband stroked his nose (I wanted to as well, but he only had a tiny nose and my husband has large hands) while the vet did it there and then.

Fly strike is where a fly lays eggs under the surface of the bunny’s skin and they hatch into maggots that eat the rabbit alive. I don’t know if it’s a particular species of fly that does it, because I’ve always been a little confused on the fact that maggots are only suposed to eat dead flesh, but Sebastian was the first fly strike bunny we’ve had, and I saw the evidence. When the vet opened his back legs, I could see that the flies had eaten half his internal organs.

I had been checking the rabbits about twice a week (as well as obviously going out to spend time with them daily, and so was my husband), but I now know that’s not often enough. It took less than 6 hours for this to happen, for our bunny to go from his usual self to near death.  The vet said it can take under 24 hours from the eggs being laid to the rabbit being eaten alive by maggots. And that’s basically what happened.

The photos that follow show you what fly strike looks like at its worst. They are very graphic. I purposely put the featured image of a less awful picture so I didn’t upset people. I didn’t take many pictures because we needed to bury him quickly, but I wanted to share this so that people know how bad fly strike can get.

This was my pet bunny, and it could be yours:

This is flystrike in adult male rabbit age 11 years.
This is flystrike. Adult male Netherland Dwarf rabbit 11 years 5 months old.

 

Flystrike fly strike in rabbits clinical cases
This was under his fur on the outside, but his thick fur was in the way, so we couldn’t see what had happened. Bottom left was his tail.
Flystrike fly strike in rabbits netherland dwarf adult male 11 year old rabbit
This was the other side, as you can see, there are still lumps under the surface indicating that not all the maggots have hatched/emerged yet.

We showed him briefly to Fifer and Poppy, who were his (non-bonded) friends, but we couldn’t leave him with them because the vet couldn’t get the maggots out, and we had to bury him in the ground as quickly as possible, in the towel we took him to the vets in (because it had to be chucked anyway).

Sebastian lived to be 11 years and 5 months of age.  I always hoped he’d go in his sleep.

Sebastian and Neville rabbits
Goodbye Sebastian (left), you are with Neville (right) again now.

RIP Banacek: Rabbit, person, and our dearest companion.

Sunday was Banacek’s funeral. We buried him in a cardboard rabbit carrier, with his favourite toys; the chewy hemp carrot, the chewy sticks, his first cuddly rabbit (stuffy), as well as his drinking bowl. We rested him on a piece cut from his favourite blue carpet out of his bedroom, then we tucked him in with his favourite towel, the one he kept pulling under him after he got neutered.  We read him the story of Snuggle Bunny, our rabbit book puppet with the adorable bedtime story (hey, I don’t judge YOUR insomnia tactics).  The book still has a little nibble out of the spine from the time Banacek “investigated” it.
We dug a big hole and gently laid him in it, then covered him over with soil, it was absolutely pouring it down with rain and we fenced it off with rabbit run panels so he doesn’t get dug up by foxes. He’s next to Katie and Neville.
The cynical part of my brain observes that there is literally no room left for vegetables in the garden.  I was going to put in a picture of him in his little box, but WordPress crashed when I tried to upload the picture (why didn’t they put an “add pictures” button in the ‘New Posting Experience FFS), and I had to restart the whole internet to restore this backup, so I’m going to leave it with what’s already in this post.

 

Banacek bunny
Sleep well, little rabbit.  A picture from brighter times.

 

Banacek bunny cute soft
The house just isn’t the same without you.

It’s been colder in the house since he died, and we all keep expecting him to run up and down the stairs, to hop into the living room and investigate the food situation, or to try  to get into the bathroom or kitchen.  The house just feels so big and empty now.  It’s like the colour has just disappeared out of the whole house, and everything is much greyer and duller than it was before.

As the days have gone on, we have realized that we’d built our whole life around Banacek; everything from how we organize our day to the furniture in the house, the fact that we redecorated the living room with adhesive tiles to stop him chewing the first two feet of wallpaper, the stairgate-type barriers in the doorways of our bedroom and the bathroom, to stop him getting into danger.  He had his own bedroom in the house, a room which was predominantly his giant 6′ by 6′ rabbit hutch, and his upstairs toys scattered around.  Every corner of the house has a sawdust litter tray so he didn’t have to get caught short, and our Hoover is the special pet one to pick up his fur from the carpet.  The kitchen is full of a variety of dry rabbit foods, toys and accoutrements that were in rotation so he never got bored, since he didn’t have an outdoor run any more (Fifer kind of stole it), and we specifically chose and modified our furniture and electricals to make a safe, accessible and stimulating environment for him.  We only got Cleo to be his friend because he was getting lonely, and we worried that we’d have to cope with his grief when she died of old age, since she’s 11 and he was only 3.  Before we adopted Cleo, we used to take Banacek on bunny playdates with other houserabbit owners so he could socialize with members of his own species.

Nobody really gets this, but this is definitely harder for both of us than losing the baby.  I think the reaction from other people, that “meh, it was just a rabbit” response, has made it so much worse, because it’s made us realize Banacek’s profound impact and amazing presence didn’t really extend past our house.  Banacek was so central to our life that not having him here to greet us, wait for us, harass us for things he doesn’t need, to give us affection, to focus our attention on, to adore and lavish with love and snuggles…  All our little every-day rituals, all the songs we’d changed the words to so Banacek was the focal point, all the tiny bunny crockery for his different nibbles… He was interested in literally everything we did, and everything that he did was naturally awesome.  I even started this blog so I could share the delight of Banacek with the world.  And everyone who came to the house was always so taken with him; how can people be so fickle and heartless about such a wonderful bunny?

The house just feels empty.  My soul feels empty.  Everyone in the house feels the same right now.  My Dearest explained it best this morning, when he said “I keep putting the central heating on, but I feel so cold on the inside.”  The house is a balmy 16 degrees right now and I’m huddled under a blanket in my dressing gown, and I’m still freezing.

Banacek was the life and soul of the party.  And now the party’s left, and we’ve just got a big empty venue to clean up, and that one sick girl to look after who drank too much.

How do you find meaning and purpose when you had it, you were happy with it, and it got taken away from you?

Now he’s gone, I’m coming up with nothing.

We’ve lost our best friend, our confidante, and our baby bunny all in one.   Banacek was our world.  If you think that’s hyperbolic you just didn’t know how amazing Banacek was.

I promise my next post will be something upbeat, but today I needed to tell the world about how important Banacek was.

Banacek bunny died at 8am 2nd Jan 2016

Very sad times; we are struggling to even comprehend how this happened.  Cleo is doing her best to make sure he gets a good send-off, we will have his funeral tomorrow in the garden unless it’s too flooded.  This is pretty much all I have to say about it:

Katie’s Funeral

On Tuesday, I put Fifer on his rabbit lead because the carrier was at the vets with Katie. There was a spare carrier, but two boxes and a husband don’t fit in my car safely. It turns out Fifer much prefers to wear his harness and sit on someone’s knee for car rides than to be put in a box. We learned he likes looking out of the window. I told him we were going to see Katie. I wanted him to have the chance to see her again, because whilst I’d been worried about her when I took her to the vets in the morning, I had had no idea that this was going to happen or that we weren’t getting her back. I’d been worrying in the morning because Katie was worrying; it was like she knew.

We arrived at the vet’s 20 minutes early. Contrary to what the receptionist had said earlier, we were shown straight into a room and Katie was brought out for us by the nurse. We put Fifer on the table with her so they could talk in bunny language to each other and share a moment. She wasn’t very with it because they’d sedated her, she’d been in so much pain after the anaesthetic wore off that they had to, apparently. She still looked like she was in pain, and she basically just sat there and Fifer came and snuggled her and licked her nose and she just stared at him for the longest time, then she nuzzled him with her nose and sat next to him.

Our usual vet (not the one I’d seen in the morning or the day before, but the one who founded the practice and who has been seeing us since we first started going here, a few weeks after they opened) came in to talk to us about Katie’s situation. She showed us the X-rays. It was much MUCH worse than it had sounded on the phone, and as soon as I saw the X-rays I started crying because Katie’s skeleton was effectively crumbling away inside her. Before we came to the vet, I’d kept an open mind and if I’d thought there was the slightest chance of her having a pain-free or fulfilling life after that day, I would have paid the money. I would have remortgaged the house if I’d had to to pay to save Katie. But there’s only so much that can be done, and the leg was today’s problem, but as the X-rays of the rest of her showed, her other leg could split at any second, her knees were fucked, her spine was fused together, her hips showed significant lack of bone density, and that was just the lower half of her body (which was what was X-rayed). This more experienced vet told us she thought Katie was probably about 7 years old, and that from the bone density throughout her skeleton, it was extremely likely that she wasn’t actually fed rabbit food by her previous owners. From this day on, her life was only going to be vet stay after vet stay, interspersed with what they called “cage rest,” during which her movement would have been inhibited as much as possible and she would have spent months in extreme agony until this leg healed, then there would have been the rest of it, a ticking timebomb inside her ready to go at any moment, causing her more unspeakable pain and fear. I wanted my squishyboo, but I wasn’t going to keep her alive so I could selfishly stroke her nose.

Would I still have adopted Katie if I had known she was so old? Resoundingly yes. I just would have maybe expected this instead of it being such a shock. It was only last week that I was thinking that one day, in a few years time (with her and Fifer being our youngest rabbits – or so I thought), the only bunnies we might still have of our current set would be Katie and Fifer. I thought she would even outlive Banacek, who we got when he was a tiny helpless baby three and a half years ago. Because she should have just turned three last week, when I got her vaccinated. She should have had about another five to seven years of life. That was what was most shocking I think – because we have some very old rabbits (over age 10) and Katie looked and acted nothing like them.

Before I took her to the vet, she had taken herself to a spot in her hutch and stayed there. When I came to pop her in the box, she screamed in pain but she didn’t resist. She knew her time had come and she was very serene about it. I didn’t understand at the time (hence my worry before and after dropping her off at the vet that the anaesthetic would be the killer here). I never expected to end the day having to make a living death or death decision over my favorite bunny.

While we were talking to the vet, Katie seemed to perk up a bit, and she started eating the cilantro that my Dearest had brought for her and strewn over the examination table. Then, with superhuman effort, she managed to get up and hop over to where Fifer stood opposite her, and she faltered when her injured leg touched the floor, but that didn’t deter her, she went to lick his face profusely. Then she turned around, and just lay down sideways on the examination table. She only managed to do it for a few seconds before she had to get up again because her leg hurt too much in that position, but after her little energy spree, she turned to my Dearest and licked his hand, then she turned to me and licked my hand, then she licked Fifer’s nose again, then she sort of switched off again, it was as if she was saying “there, now I’ve done everything, now I have said goodbye to you all, I can go now. I’m ready.” I was in floods of tears throughout. The vet picked Katie up and took her out (they can’t do rabbits the way they do dogs because their veins are too small so she had to do it away from us then bring her back).

When the vet took Katie in the back to do it, Fifer just sort of sat there staring at the floor looking morose. Then, about a minute or so after she’d left, Fifer suddenly looked straight up towards where she’d been taken, he stared at that spot for a second, then he lay down on the examination table. It was as if he knew the exact moment when she died. After Katie was PTS (put to sleep), the vet put her on the examination table for us and then she just let us stay in the examination room and take our time.

I let Fifer have a look at her. He declared that she smelled strange then indicated that he wanted to leave. So we bundled Katie up so carefully (the vet let us have a towel). I just scooped Katie up, supporting her head because she was limp, and held her for about ten minutes, just rocking her and crying and kissing her nose and trying to deal with the situation. Then I popped her back in her dog carrier (she’s the size of one) and took the bunnies home.

When we got home, I popped her in the big outhouse where Fifer’s hutch is (they have 24/7 indoor/outdoor access and no door on the entrance to the hutch for their own freedom to roam), and I lay her down next to the hay pile. We fed Fifer and we had given him copious snuggles and strokes.

On Wednesday morning, after the school run, the first thing I did was go to see Fifer. I went to his outhouse and just sat by Katie’s body with him. I noticed there was now some broccoli in her ear. He had tried to feed her broccoli at some point in the night. The rest of her had been thoroughly groomed.

Rabbits have a special ritual when one of their herd dies. They sometimes do a rabbit dance around the dead one, and they often groom them. It’s critically important that they get to see the dead body after the bunny has been PTS, which is why I put Katie out with Fifer overnight. That morning, I lifted her up – rigor mortis had set in by now – and I took her out into the outdoor run so that Sebastian could see her as well. Fifer of course had priority because they were bonded first, but Sebastian loved Katie and would often be found on the other side of the fence snuggled up to her.

When I got Sebastian out of his run and put him next to Katie, he nosed her then lost interest. He didn’t seem to care. I put him back away and gave the rest of my attention to Fifer who was clearly mourning his Katie. Fifer sat with me and Katie for hours in the garden, and when I went to the flowerbed to dig her a grave, he came and “helped” without getting in the way. He knew what we were doing. He’s very intelligent. I lined the bottom with lots of her favorite plants. After that, I popped Katieboo in the outdoor toilet room so that bugs and birds didn’t start on her, then waited for my Dearest to finish work so we could bury her.

After I moved her, I watched Fifer from the kitchen. I saw him sniff around where she’d been before, then he laid down where her body had been, and stared into space wistfully. This is why they have to see the body – otherwise, they will wait for weeks sometimes for their friend to return (because they think they’re out feeding and haven’t come back) and they won’t eat or drink if you’re not careful.

When He got home from work, we wandered down the road and picked loads of dandelions and daisies for her. Dandelions were her favourite thing to eat that grows wild, and she’d eaten all the ones in the garden which is why we went looking. We were losing light, as the sky turned a dark pink, it was Katie’s favorite time of day (bunnies naturally are most active in the hour around dawn and the hour around dusk, and out of all of our buns, Katie and Fifer are/were the most in tune with their natural rhythms). We gathered her some broccoli and a whole carrot from the fridge, and all the rabbit nuggets that had been handed back by the vet because she wasn’t eating properly. I got her out of where I’d put her, and rigor mortis was wearing off again so she was a bit more movable than before. I placed her carefully on the bed of plants, then we placed the dandelions, daisies and broccoli where she could get at them (I put some of the broccoli behind her ears as per Fifer’s broccoli-feeding attempts, in case he knew something about all of this that we didn’t, such as that rabbits eat backwards in the afterlife maybe). We snapped the carrot and placed it in front and behind her. Then we took the bunny nuggets and scattered them around her, so she was totally insulated from soil by all her favorite snacks. It’s what she would have wanted.

The hardest part was putting the soil over her. It felt so wrong. She just looked like she was sleeping, peacefully, dreaming, with her eyes slightly open. I covered all the rest of her then I did her face last because it was so hard. Then after I’d covered her a bit I handed the shovel to my Dearest and let him put the next layer on. I was too upset. I didn’t want to let her go.

In the end, I took over again because he was too upset too. Fifer stood beside us, looking on, I’m not sure what he was thinking but he knew she was there. We put a protective fence (made of spare panels of rabbit run) around her because the last thing I want is a cat to dig her up and eat her. I’ve let Fifer out since and he’s gone to the place where she’s buried and he’s nosed at the fence, like he’s saying “that’s where Katie is, isn’t it mummy?” and I’ve replied (because I do) with “yes, honey, that’s where Katie is.”

He seems to be coping pretty well. He’s just gone back to being his loner, lonely, languishing self from his pre-Katie days. We’ll probably need to get him a new friend soon but for now I want to just let him (and us) get over this profound loss.

My Dearest asked me a question yesterday that threw me. He said, “what are your thoughts about pregnancy now?” and my answer was “it’s strange that you should ask, because when I was holding Katie’s body in the vets, the only thought in my mind was ‘if we get pregnant RIGHT NOW then we might get her reincarnated spirit.’ Because I know that Katie will get reincarnated if she doesn’t just get a free pass to the afterlife. Look, I know it’s weird but in the last 12 months I’ve lost 2 parents and 2 rabbits, I think I’m allowed to have strange afterlife ideas.

The night after she died, I had a dream that her and my dog Dillon (childhood BFF) were both pissed that only humans get let into the afterlife (in my dream it was Elysian fields, pearly gates, huge drinking festhall of Valhalla – the works – all together in the same place), so they broke in (Katie burrowed then Dillon barked at anyone who tried to stop them) until St Peter and Hades both turned up and St P. said “well, you’ve clearly made a lot of effort so Imma let you stay” and they went to the fountain of youth and drank from it and tore around heaven like racing cars.

Then I had a dream about all the ginger people I know, all in the same room, and I was looking for Katie but she wasn’t there. I had that dream the next night as well. Weird, huh?

I still can’t upload pictures, internet’s still fucked and intermittent, so here’s the link to my last set that I posted that were all of Katie doing really cute stuff.

I’m going to miss my Marmalade Princess Katieboo.
I don’t think there’s another rabbit the same as her in the whole world.

I also need to give a big shout-out to my vets who were really really wonderful about the whole thing (even when I got stressy, and even sent Fifer a condolences card with a pair of rabbits on it). If you live in York, you can’t do better than Vets4Pets for rabbit-savvy vets.

[rabbits] Helping a bereaved bunny

Those of you who have been reading regularly will know that Neville, one of our six rabbits, sadly died of old age at the end of last week.
He was survived by his brother Sebastian.

Sebastian has always been a reclusive bunny, Neville always spoke up for both of them and so part of Sebastian’s challenge in the future is going to be to learn to speak up for himself, to draw attention to his own needs without someone else there to do it for him.  Obviously, my OH and I will keep a good eye on him, but we rely on our rabbits to tell us when they’re unhappy with something we’re doing so we can change it and provide a better environment for them.  Sebastian’s just… never really done that.

Earlier this week, I couldn’t see Sebastian playing outside and felt that familiar worry, so went out to check on him.  He was just sat in his hutch staring listlessly into space.  I picked up his chewy play carrot and he attacked it with vigour, shoving at it with his nose and tearing at it.  I think it still smelled of Neville, and I got the impression Sebastian was taking out his anger, that Neville had left him behind.  I’m trying really hard not to project onto Sebastian though, because my mother died at the beginning of last month (literally two days after I started this blog, good job I’d prepared quite a few posts in advance and just needed to do photos and put it all together, but I didn’t think it was a good time to say), and I’m seeing behaviours in Sebastian that I know I’ve been exhibiting.

Anger.  Anger at everything.  That she went away.  That I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to her.  Anger that the house got broken into over Christmas and that a lot of her favourite things got taken.  That I thought we had more time.  Anger at the stupidity and senselessness of it all.  She was 53.  Sebastian is very angry when he smells Neville on the toy carrot.


Sadness.
 This feeling that there is a huge rift in your life that will never be repaired, that some energy conduit has been cut away and you can no longer feel a connection to someone.  Sadness that she didn’t get to do half the things she wanted to.  Sebastian sometimes has water around his eyes.  I know people say rabbits can’t cry but mine all seem to when there’s something sad happening.  The first night we put Banacek outside last summer, when we came to get him he was sitting in the garden, staring through the kitchen window, waiting for us and crying.  The first night we brought Katie home, and she realised she wasn’t going to be separated from Fifer ever, she had water under her eyes too (until he bit her, then she bit him back, then his eyes were watering but that was probably pain because she’s a lot bigger than him.  He’s never ever started on Katie again).

Excessive energy.  Sometimes when I see Sebastian he’s just running around his rabbit run (which is sizeable) letting off steam.  I got an early Christmas present of my OH which was a pair of roller skates, so I could just run and run and run.  Sometimes I still lie in bed and just want to go for a long walk and just keep walking until I’ve reached the end of the world.

Aggression.  This is like anger but towards other people for no apparent reason.  Sebastian does it with me, he bites my fingers, and he’s never been a biter before (except play bites).  It’s like he’s saying “you control our lives, you’re all powerful, bring Neville back.”  I keep getting aggressive towards my OH, but we have a specific way to settle our differences so it doesn’t get very far.

Sadness.  Sometimes this is just sitting for hours staring into space.  We both do that.


Looking for answers.
 I see Sebastian sometimes trying to dig a hole to get to where we buried Neville (which was outside the rabbit enclosure).  He knows it’s happened but doesn’t understand why.  Why Neville and not him.  Why not some other elderly bunny who had an even longer life?  He stares at Cleo (who is the same age) and wonders why she’s fine, and he, Sebastian, is fine, and Neville is not.  I look at elderly people in Tesco and wonder, what did they do differently that my mother did wrong?  Of course, there’s no answer because cancer is just down to bad luck, and old age is just something that catches us out, there’s no reason why some people die of old age in their seventies and others don’t go until they hit 100, thirty entire years later, and the same for bunnies.

Distraction.  We both seem to spend an awful lot of time doing the most random things.  Sebastian even enjoyed a car ride on Monday when I had bathed him and didn’t want him to go into shock on his own because baths can be traumatic for bunnies.  He just sat in a box on the front seat and snuggled up to my hand, which was stroking him whenever it was safe to do so.  I seem to spend a lot of time doing housework, gardening, and sorting out minutiae for the rabbits.

Reaching out to people.  I’ve become a lot more talkative on social media, as well as more communicative with other family members.  Sebastian sits at the side of his run and tries to get close to the other two outdoor rabbits, who are both quite young and don’t really understand what Sebastian is going through.  When I brought him in on Monday, I sat him on the sofa and he just did his best impression of a bunny slipper, sat between me and my OH, and let me just continually stroke him.  Every  time I got up to make a cup of tea, I had to take him with me because otherwise he would get very anxious and start stomping his foot, which we know is a sign of fear.

Not eating.  This is another thing we’ve both been doing.  We have both been barely eating, and when we have done, it’s been fresh vegetables.  I’m slowly weaning myself onto pasta, rice and chips again, and trying to get Sebastian to eat some hay, because we both need our starchy carbohydrates.  I’ve recently discovered fruit in a big way, so I’m actually getting three things that look like meals every day.  Sebastian is not that into fruit.  We do share an interest in parsley, however.

The Replacement Question
I’ve been debating whether to get Sebastian a new friend as soon as possible or whether to wait longer.  The House Rabbit society suggests asap, with it being easier to bond a bereaved rabbit because they’re emotionally vulnerable.  I think rabbits are all different, and that three to five days is not enough to deal with their feelings before shoving them towards someone new.  I feel it’s a bit insensitive to go “oh, sorry the person you shared a womb with and have never been apart from your entire life is now gone.  Let’s get you a nice guinea pig…”  Also until his anger and aggression have abated it might not be the best time to try and bond him, although the flipside is that new bonding might help get rid of the negative feelings.  My OH doesn’t have as much experience with pets so is leaving it to me.  And my decision making is worse than ever at the moment.  I think the upshot will quite probably be that we’ll take Sebastian to Pets At Home on Saturday and show him the adoptible rabbits (if they have any), and if he strikes up a nice relationship with one of them, we will bring them home.  Part of me is worried that he’ll bond to a Giant Rabbit, and that we will be silly and let him, which would be woefully inappropriate for both of them – it’d be like pairing a dog and a horse.

I think, even though we’ve both lost a lot of people we were close to (Sebastian’s dad died 2 years ago, his previous owners moved to Australia eighteen months ago, and obviously being a 3D person who makes a lot of connections I’ve lost at least a dozen people in my life and been to even more funerals for all those people who I didn’t really know but were peripheral to my life in a way that I still needed to pay my respects), nothing has prepared either of us for this depth of loss or sadness.  I know I will be okay because I have my wonderful other half (terminology – we’re actually both complete circles that overlap) who looks after me and sorts things out and holds rabbits when I’m trying to pour tea.  The trouble with rabbits is they only make a connection to one individual at a time (usually), and in their serial monogamy, they lose the support network that other animals have, because other rabbits who see them frequently don’t seem to understand the significance of the loss.

For now, lots of attention, lots of understanding, giving him the space to act out (but making sure this doesn’t become a time for bad behaviour to be learned.  I feel that letting him for-real bite me would be completely unacceptable but play biting me, or attacking his toy carrot is another matter), giving him lots of extra tasty food so he is encouraged to keep eating,  My main concern is making sure he feels there is a reason to keep living, because I know rabbits are very emotional creatures and can sometimes die of loneliness or a broken heart.

Plenty of attention, warmth, love and affection, whilst making sure Sebastian isn’t smothered so he can also do his own thing.  And tea.  But not for him.  I think he’s our only rabbit who doesn’t try to drink our tea.  Maybe he should start…

There are no pictures today.  I felt it would be exploitative of the situation.