Rabbit Proof House

Bonsai is the culmination of 25 years spent longing for a rabbit.

She's a six year old, black and white Dutch rabbit who arrived last week, from Nottingham, upon Katherine's departure for Boston. Since then, I've been trying to fathom her out.

She's had quite a few traumas in the last ten days: separation from her home of the last few years; close contact with Dougall; a long, hot car journey; a new residence; loud noise from workmen, and being dropped when the bottom fell out of her cage as I tried to take her out of earshot of the workmen. Taking lots of photos of her yesterday afternoon seemed to be the final straw.

So it's probably fair to say that Bonsai hasn't been on top form for the last week. Even so, some strong likes and dislikes are becoming apparent.

Her favourite place, without doubt, is under the table. When not lying perfectly still, she likes hopping over the struts on the dining chairs. Bonsai also ventures out from time to time, to have a good sniff around. But she refuses to go into the kitchen and hasn't attempted to go upstairs yet.

As for food, a carrot, lettuce heart or apple core will be devoured in no time at all. Bonsai will take or leave raisins, radishes and rabbit treats but will run away from cucumber, shallot and anything that's been in the same airspace as a chilli.

She likes to sniff feet and hands but won't nibble discarded shoes or socks. The only thing that has suffered so far is the corner of the scrabble box.

Communication is not exactly straightforward but it's easy to tell when Bonsai is unhappy: she growls! Particularly if she doesn't want to be stroked.

I have to admit, grudgingly, that my parents were probably right not to give in and get me a rabbit. Bonsai would not be very child-friendly, being so anti-social, and would have been miserable outdoors, in a Lancashire garden, in the days when house rabbits hadn't yet been invented. I can only hope that my Rabbit-lopaedia will help me to get the hang of her now.