Bundle of Joy

Let me tell you about a new addition to the family. The treasures and I are the proud owners of our own little baby rabbit, Jiffy. She is a teensy-weensy black bunny, bought from the shop where we found our lovely cat, Mme Bovary. Poor Mme B is now in high dudgeon, failing to understand why she is being upstaged by a creature she regards as little more than a snack. But who could resist the downy-soft fur of a ten week old rablet?

Quite a few people, apparently. Linda, the petshop owner, said that all Jiffy’s brothers and sisters were snapped up long before her – because she is black. Honestly! Discrimination, in Forest Hill of all places. We are all shocked, and mightily protective of dear Jiffy as a result.

We are now on Day Two of rabbit ownership, and already I see the parallels with an insane love affair, not unlike mine with TL. Yesterday we were struck with love-at-first-sight, then our love was rapturously returned as Jiffy snuggled happily in our arms. Now Jiffy is showing the first signs of rebellion. We’ve had a bit of scratching, excused as she can hardly help having long toenails, can she? And then, 50-odd hours into the relationship, the first definite cracks – she has bitten Child Two.

Already, I am tempted to scurry to the Internet to look up the lifespan of Netherlands dwarf rabbits. For that is the other thing about Jiffy – she is a purebred pedigree bunny. Another highly-strung female in the house, as TL would no doubt say. And she cost £35! Or the price of a full trolley at Lidl! This is a fact that the petshop owner failed to reveal until both the children had had a go at holding her, of course. Sigh. Mme Bovary may have a point.

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