Hey all, some of you might know us, we're a rabbit and rodent rescue in Edinburgh, Scotland.

At the moment I'm campaigning hard to find homes for some of our special needs bunnies, I just can't bear to see them getting overlooked day in and day out while the other bunnies go off to their forever homes. I know most of you guys aren't looking for more rabbits, but I just want to spread the word as much as possible!

I've been focusing especially on our girl Snowy who is one of our dental buns and has some behaviour issues (purely with trust/shyness, she's not aggressive in any way). You can read about her here http://paws-here.livejournal.com/31413.html and see a photo of her and profiles of some of our other special bunnies in this post here http://paws-here.livejournal.com/31548.html


Thanks so much for reading and if you can help us by letting others know then please do! I'm working on getting photos of the other dear bunnies up too.

She's chewing up my carpet, and I can't do anything to stop her! I've tried bitters, vinegar, loud noises, pats on the lower back, even pushing her away from the spots. I put a few blankets down around where she's been doing it the most, but she just pushes it away and goes to town. I'd put her on tile if I could, but in my apartment, the only places to do that are in the bathrooms, and I don't want to leave her alone in there.
I need suggestions, and fast! Are there extremely nasty things rabbits absolutely hate that's stronger than vinegar? Or any other advice at all. This is driving me nuts, and I've more than likely already lost my security deposit because of her. I just hate that she looks over every single chew toy I've given her, including a mat made of grass, wooden blocks, and a stuffed carrot, and goes right to the carpet. She leaves wires alone, strangely enough. She just rearranges them. She's also not spayed yet, if that would change anything. I'm waiting for my next batch of financial aid to come in for summer semester to do so.

What happens if a rabbit eats meat?
She ate some by accident this morning; it freaked me out….

Also, I don’t know when it started but she growls and attacks me T^T
I didn’t know rabbits could be so vicious; is that normal?

This has gotten ridiculous.

I continue to catch Dayna eating out of her sister the cat's bowl at least once a day. The cat eats Wellness Indoor Health, a grain-free brand of kibble. Why on earth would a bun want to eat THAT?

And yet she does. Otherwise she is normal, has access to her own food and chew toys, poops like it's going out of style, the whole nine yards. Due to the cat's age and medical conditions, it's not really an option to place her bowl somewhere out of Dayna's reach. She's never had a cage in her life; it's not like I can lock her up when I catch her, all I can do is clap, say "no", and chase her from the bowl.

Is it a problem that she likes the cat food? Or should I just try to teach the cat to stand up to her alpha little sister?

I'm a relatively new rabbit owner and am looking for more rabbit-centric blogs to look at. Any suggestions? Very active blogs are a plus, as well as those that include a community! Thanks for the help.

The Phooka has been having elderly-problems. About a month ago I had tried to start him on aspirin and glucosamine as per our vet. Whereas it did seem to bring him some pain relief, it also started up additional problems - poopy-butt,

Two weeks ago, the vet had me take him off all meds and foods other than pellets and hay, although I kept him on his papaya as he was shedding terribly, and one Cheerio at bedtime. Neither of those had added sugar to them. I also gave him more pellets at his normal salad time, because try feeding three cats and NOT the bunny. Ain't gonna happen, and he needed the extra food since I was essentially doing away with one meal.

For about two years, he had lost control of his "pooping" muscles. That has stopped almost entirely. Apparently he had gas so badly that the poop was coming out with it. I had never noticed, because he never showed any symptoms other than what I chalked up to old age. He is moving better and grooming more. He does still have some occasional bouts when he is asleep, now that I know what to look for, but they seem more fleeting. He still has arthritis-related issues - he can't jump up on furniture - but he is getting into mischief (had to pull him out of a closet today) and for the last three mornings, he has snugged up to my feet under my desk as I work.

Friday, the vet ok-ed to start him on liquid glucosamine, as the powdered/capsule version was a disaster. This is cherry flavored. He was actually squeaking in eagerness before I had even given it to him, just from smelling it.  I've never heard him do that before. Honk, yes. Squeak, no. Today I gave it to him on a little plastic lid, rather than syringe and he happily lapped it all up. And lapped. And lapped. I thought he was going to lick a hole in the plastic!

I'm working on altering a ramp so he can get up and off the bed by himself. My father had made a ramp for Gekko many years and several homes ago, so he could scamper up to a window perch. It is about the right length to prop in the lower drawer of my storage bed at one end and the top drawer at the other end, but it doesn't have any traction for him and it makes him nervous. Still, I have plans to put ridges across for claw-holds. There's still a eight inch drop from the bed surface to the ramp surface and the ramp is the width for a mini-lop, not a French Lop, but it has a raised edge on the free-standing side, and I think it will work. I just don't want him jumping off the bed - even two of the cats have a hard time getting up and down from it because it's so high.

And he does love his naps with me on the heated mattress pad. He now shoves all blankets aside, so he can be right on the heat. His favorite way is to have me on my side, so he can shove his rump against my chest and under my chin, then stretch out with my arms on either side of him. As he relaxes more and more, he gets longer and longer, until he is out at his full length with his head shoved under my hands. There is lots of licking until he falls asleep. Yesterday, he sat up and dugdugdug... then suddenly FLOPPED! He hasn't done a real flop in a long time - just a Lean Against This And Slide Down type of movement. And he flopped while he was in my arms. Then he went into a very deep sleep and had dreams, with twitching paws and whiskers.

If a cat joins us, especially little Mew who will shrink against him if Smidge comes near, he is in even more bliss. He'll still teach them a thing or two; Mew was startled by his digging last week and bit him. He remained still for a moment and I could see the thought process: This is Mew. She's a scared cat. We give her leeway. But... We Do NOT Bite The Bunny! And he bit her back. She was very startled... but she hasn't bit him since. I'm taking a note from his book - when she bites me, I'm biting her back too, and her biting has backed off a lot since then. The Phooka is very wise and knew she was ready for discipline and not so much coddling now.

for those of you in the U.S. who have long haired rabbits, please remember that it is grooming time. bunnies are starting to shed and it's much easier to pluck, brush, or shave now rather than wait until your friend is a matted mess.

much love,

sweater & scarf, the angora horrors

It has finally come. I can't even believe I'm writing this post. After seven amazing years with the most incredible creature I've ever know, he's gone.

DaVinci died last night.

He's been steadily declining, but until yesterday, he was eating voraciously. The hydrotherapy hadn't gotten him to hop unassisted again, but I kept it up because I figured it was good for him anyways; the warmth, the water, the movement.

On Wednesday morning, I brought him downstairs; I thought he'd like to be around everyone for the day, and since he couldn't move, I didn't think it would be a hazard for the babies that were over. I put a diaper on him to eliminate smells and pee stains, bundled him in a towel and set him on the floor with some romaine lettuce. He ate happily and relaxed. When we moved into the living room, I put him in his bundle on the rocking recliner, gave him some carrots that he quickly ate and some bunny yogies that he was happy to have. It was about 3:30 when I put him back in his cage with some dandelion greens; I adjusted his towels and moved his water bottle to an easier location for him to reach, turned on the radio for him and said I'd see him later.

That night, when I got home, I went to check on him. The dandelion greens were all still there. That was very odd for him; he's a pig and never leaves anything. His nostril on the left side of his nose was very blocked, which was odd since it was the side that had been completely fine this entire time. I picked him up to take a better look and he yawned and started making squeaking noises while he was breathing. This terrified me as noises from bunnies are never a good thing. I wrapped him in a yellow towel and ran downstairs to my husband. His breathing wasn't labored, just slow and slightly shallow. He was calm and peaceful. I tried to give him a carrot, he refused. I tried to give him banana, his FAVORITE; he refused. I cried and cried and decided to bring him up into bed with me for the night.

He remained quietly by my side all night and I periodically woke up to check on him. After being kicked a million times by my husband (who moves constantly in his sleep), I moved the pair of us to the floor. In the morning, I tried giving him a dandelion green and he ate it fairly well. He took two more and then refused. I went downstairs and got some parsley for him. He ate one and was almost done with the second when he stopped chewing part way through. He was still aware and okay, just not chewing. It took some prodding to get him to finish what was in his mouth and he let the rest fall away; not a good sign.

I had to go out that morning. My mom stopped by and checked in on him and said he was all right; still breathing and still relaxed.

When I got home around 2:30, I went to check on him. I took him out of his cage and brought him down to the couch. His breathing was still slow and shallow and he seemed very tired. I gave him a slice of apple and he quickly started eating it. I got excited and cut up more, but when I came back he'd only eaten 3/4 of it. I gave him the piece of apple back and he started to eat but his jaw was sort of clicking and I could see that he was having trouble chewing; he couldn't find a good place for the food in his mouth. When he finished that bite, refused more, and started grinding his teeth loudly (which rabbits do when in pain) I knew; it was time. I sobbed and stroked his head. He clicked his teeth now and again; sometimes in pain, sometimes in the loving way he used to do.

I called my husband and told him. I asked him to call the vet for me; I couldn't make it through the call. He called back to tell me that the appointment was for 6:40; it was about 3:40. I partially hoped DaVinci would go on his own (though I've seen that with a few animals before and it's horrible and traumatizing), partially hoped that they'd bump up our appointment and hoped even more that 5:00 would magically never come and he'd heal and become my little baby bunny again. After a few minutes, the vet called back and changed it to 5:00. I called my mom. She and my husband arrived at 4:45 (she had to stay with my daughter who was napping). In the meantime, before they arrived, I sat with my face to his and stroked his forehead just as he'd always preferred. I talked to him and cried quietly. Every once in a while, he'd reposition his head. I held his head in my hand and stroked his ear. I dreaded the coming of 5:00 while wishing it would hurry and arrive so he wouldn't be in pain any longer. When they got to the house, I ran to the bathroom -- I had refused to leave his side, despite my bursting bladder, until they got home. My mom stayed beside him and pet his head.

I asked my husband to drive. I wrapped DaVinci in a large yellow towel and put him against my chest inside my coat to keep him warm. My mom was crying as she stroked his head and said goodbye. I held him up to Vedder (our cat and DaVinci's best friend -- they adored each other). Vedder was disinterested, but DaVinci must have smelled him because he perked up, turned his head toward him and reached out his nose to sniff. It was his goodbye to his best friend.

We went to the vet.

All the way there, he remained very calm. I stroked his ears and kissed his head and sobbed as I thought about what we were doing; I couldn't believe it was happening. I couldn't believe the day had come.

We walked into the office and they ushered us right into a room. They came in and had me sign some paperwork. The vet came in and explained how it would work -- that he'd get an opiate cocktail to make him very euphoric and calm and that after five minutes she'd come back to administer the injection. She said it would go straight to his brain; it was like going to the basement and flipping off the main circuit; like going under anesthesia except that you kept on going. I opted to stay in the room. She gave the first injection (he only slightly flinched) and left. I sat with him beneath a window and wept and wept while petting his head. My husband sat beside me and talked to him, telling him that he was a great little guy and that he had made us so happy. He stayed very calm.

She came back for the next shot. I stood up, crying, and kissed him one more time. I put him on the table. She shaved a bit of fur from his leg (didn't have to shave much as his back legs were so bare to begin with). She was talking and I just wanted her to stop. I wanted silence in that moment. She was trying to ask me questions about my daughter but I couldn't answer and she and my husband talked. I knelt in front of him and stroked his head and cried. After a moment, his eye (the one on the right; the only one I could see) grew a bit larger and opened a bit wider. She told me I'd taken such great care of him as she put the stethoscope to his belly. She said, "But I'm gone now, mom; I'm gone now." My heart shattered and I put my forehead to his and sobbed. He shuddered slightly and his mouth moved a little as his internal organs shut down permanently. The vet left the room, promising to get us a box for him. A woman came back with a box and apologized to us for our loss; she said she'd had a rabbit once; a large white one. We said that DaVinci was wonderful. She said, "I've heard you can litter train them and everything, too," and was amazed that he had been. She asked if we wanted a paw print keepsake. It seemed barbaric. I couldn't subject his sweet little body to something like that after he was gone just for a keepsake; turning his limp little leg and pressing it into a mold...no. I thanked her but refused. She said to take all the time we needed.

I cried for a few minutes there with my head to his, then I picked him up and placed him gently into the box. My husband put the top on, took the box and we walked out of the room, out into the cold and to the car.

I am devastated. I am heartbroken. I miss him so desperately.

He was my first rabbit, my first "big" pet after my dog died the month before; he became my new puppy and was just like a little dog. He was amazing; smart, feisty, funny, sweet, cuddly. I feel an aching, horrible void in my heart. It has been seven years and I no longer know what it is to live a life without him and I can't fathom how I will. I know that I will but I can't grasp how that will happen. I can't understand how I'll never see him again.

But I feel honored to have known him. I feel blessed and privileged to have been the one that brought him home that cold winter's night so many years ago. I feel so grateful for all of the memories I have with him and for the love he gave me. I truly feel bad for everyone else on earth who didn't know him. He was wonderful.

I miss you, DooDoo. I miss you so, so much.

Dear Mew,

I am delighted that you are getting braver and that the brave is coaxed even further by curiosity. I think that by now, your sleeping during the day in the linen closet is more by choice than by fear, although I do wish that you would jump to the HighestHigh Shelf on your own without begging me to heist you up there. It's not much higher than the low shelf, which you manage quite well. I know you have short stubby legs, but if you can jump up onto the bed, you can reach the HighestHigh Shelf from the toilet.

Coming down is even easier, and you have managed that pretty well.

This, however, does not mean that I recommend that you walked off the HighestHigh Shelf onto my shoulders.

ESPECIALLY when I am cleaning The Phooka's poopybutt.

He is embarrassed enough by his elderly need for this cleaning. Not to mention is it a Delicate Area involved and that he has to be turned upside-down for such ministrations. Having you step off the HighestHigh Shelf onto my back, walk up my shoulders to peer over and watch for a few minutes, then turn around and SIT ON MY HEAD, BACKWARDS, with your front feet on my neck and your butt on my head and your tail hanging over my face... is not conducive to making sure the baby oil goes onto the right part of the rabbit. Most importantly, it does not help the grumpy rabbit to withhold his temper and not KICK THE BEJEEBUS OUT OF ME while your tail is drifting back and forth over him. In front of my face.

That rather ended all productivity. I managed to set The Phooka down. You refused to step off my neck. You weigh ten pounds now, kid. You hurt. I managed to wobble-walk to the bed, intending for you to step off there.

Smidgeon was on the bed.

This did not bode well.

Disgusted with the whole situation and smelling rather strongly of bunny poo, I admit, I shoved you.

Which meant that you, Smidge, and The Grumpy Phooka were now all within three square feet of each other.

I did the wisest thing possible.

I fled.

Under the guise of scrubbing my hands, of course, but yes. I fled.

When I came back, Smidge was still on the bed, tail lashing. You were in the clothes closet, and The Grumpy Phooka hadn't moved.

He glared at me.

Thumped.

Left the room.

He had waited just long enough to tell me off.

Next time, dearest Mew... STAY IN THE CLOSET! We'll all live longer.