Yakir loves animals. And when I say loves, I mean LOVES. But we just aren’t interested in the expense or commitment of a dog. And I’m allergic to cats (well, and when you have them on the streets like rats, you don’t really think of a cat as a pet).
So that left bunnies.
Let’s buy a bunny, I said.
It’ll be cute and cuddly and easy to care for, I said.
And so, we did. Two years ago, we weighed our bunny-buying options and got ourselves an adorable little black bunny.
We named him Bob, and Yakir was ecstatic.
For a few weeks.
And then, even though Bob had originally seemed like a sweet, cuddly bunny, he soon clammed up. He tried to bite us a few times, and seemed to growl when we got ready to pick him up.
So, we left his cage open, pet him and talked to him, but started to leave him alone. And he never came out of the cage. And when I say never, I mean that in the last two years, he has never come out of his open cage. Never. He just sits there, eating his food, drinking his water, allowing us to pet him, and looking out at the world.
I have a little fantasy that when we go to sleep at night, he jumps out like Kevin Hart in the movie The Secret Life of Pets and sits in our indoor hammock watching TV and drinking a few. But I’ve never found any evidence that he does.
At some point, however, I noticed that his nails were incredibly long and needed cutting. Darn, I had not planned on that or given it any thought before we bought him. And seriously, how was I going to cut the nails of a bonkers-never-leaves-his-cage bunny?
And time went on, as it will, and Bob remained in his cage.
I started to worry that I would be judged by any veterinarian to whom we tried to drag Bob. And anyway, how was I going to get Bob to the vet? In his huge cage? And even more so, how was I going to explain, on the phone, in Hebrew that my bonkers bunny had issues. How would I say the words “bonkers” and “cut his nails” and “recluse” and “moody” in Hebrew? These are the things they don’t warn you about before you make Aliyah.
One day, a friend mentioned something about her bunny, and the vet who was coming to her house to see him. I couldn’t believe my ears. And this is when Dr. Molly came into our lives, and into our bunny world.
So recently, Dr. Molly came for a visit. I told her that Bob doesn’t leave his cage – ever – and she was quiet on the phone. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Some bunnies are territorial, but that’s really abnormal behavior. We will have to check it out.”
Dr. Molly dragged Bob, kicking and screaming (or yacking as bunnies do) from his cage for a full exam. And that’s when we discovered that Bob is a girl.
Yep, that led to a few laughs from Yakir and me. And a discussion about whether or not to change Bob’s name. We’ve decided not to do so for now – with the vet’s blessing. But now my friend has told me we should be calling him Kate (as any British person will apparently explain! I can barely understand my British friends, let alone explain why Bob is Kate. Go figure.).
At least Dr. Molly confirmed that we haven’t been doing anything wrong, bunny-wise, and that we just ended up with a reclusive, rather strange bunny.
Poor Yakir. And poor Bob. I mean Kate. I mean Bob.
And that’s our story about the moody and territorial girl bunny that we’ve been calling Bob for two years now. At least he’s cute. I mean she. And now she’s got clipped fingernails and a confirmation that nothing but her disposition is wrong with her.