Easter time is here: Peak bunny time in the Western world! For me, the highlight is the irresistible selection of rabbit-themed housewares: Do I get the cute pink-eared coat hook or that lagomorph lamp with the carrot on/off switch? But others might be tempted to bring home a live long-eared love for the holiday. 

Here’s the fantasy: a life of blissful cuddles on demand with a gentle, affectionate, and attentive furry companion.

The reality? A mix of comfort and chaos (“OK, who chewed on my checkbook?”), delight and drudgery (“I thought it was your turn to clean the litterbox!”). Whether the good outweighs the bad depends on whether a bunny is a good fit for your household and lifestyle.

So, should you get a pet rabbit?

Continue reading “Should You Get a Pet Rabbit?”

DEAR MISS NANNERS: Whenever I pet a rabbit, it hops away in a huff. I even let it sniff my hand first! I only want to make furry friends. Am I being rude? — Frustrated Lagomorph-Lover of Pasadena

DEAR FLLOP: Unfortunately, yes. But take heart! These simple etiquette guidelines should put you in good bunny graces.

It emerges with no warning, clattering out of dark closets, the strange, shiny, hairless creature. Roaring incessantly – deafeningly – never stopping, not even to take a breath. It lurches menacingly around every room in the house, raging in and out of every nook and corner. It’s terrifying! The bane of house bunny existence: The Vacuum Cleaner.

But there is hope, fellow lagomorphs: we too used to fear this gruesome monster. But now when he appears, not only don’t we mind, we kind of enjoy it! If you’re still living in fear of Vacuumasaurus, tell your humans to read this article.


Moraea and Finnegan

Continue reading “Taming Vacuumasaurus”


“Police! Open up!” (Door cracks open) “Afternoon, sir. We have reason to believe you’re keeping a pet guinea pig.”

“Yes, Herschel. Want to help me brush him? You’ll have to be gentle.”

“Just the one pig, is it?”

“Only the Herschinator!

“In that case, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.”

When I got Oscar, my very first rabbit, I expected to be able to hold and cuddle her (yes, her!) on a daily basis. To me, that was her primary purpose. I was horrified to discover that she not only disagreed, she’d kick and scratch her way out of my loving embrace if need be. My arms were striped with the bright red welts that sharp little rabbit toenails leave behind.

The breeder who sold her to me advised me to keep forcing her to be held multiple times a day, which I did, and eventually she relented. But I hated forcing her. Though she never complained after that, I always had in the back of my mind that it wasn’t something she would have chosen — it was a job she had to do.

For Finnegan, fear has a name. It’s The Sizzle. The first whisper of frying foods from our kitchen sends him urgently racing for cover as if a hungry owl had just flown in the window. Desperate to escape his auditory enemy, he cowers or scurries about, unable to rest until the culinary culprit is silenced.

Does your long-eared lad or lass have a nemesis like The Sizzle? Well, there might be a way to help them.

Years ago, I helped a woman adopt a rabbit after her previous one passed away. She fell in love with a beautiful silvery lop named Sheldon, and delightedly took him home. A few weeks later, she gave me a call. She was concerned because she and Sheldon weren’t “connecting”. In fact, he was avoiding her.

I asked what happened when she got close to Sheldon. She said she’d pick him up and cuddle him, but he would get away as quickly as he could. “Have you tried not picking him up?” I asked. Though I tried my best to work with this well-meaning bunny mom, in the end I failed.  She became convinced that Sheldon was somehow defective and he was returned. On the brighter side, Sheldon went on to find a happy home.

Continue reading “Does Your Rabbit Trust You?”

“Moraea! That’s *my* drink!,” I exclaimed, snatching the champagne glass away from her inquisitive little tongue.

“It tickles my whiskers. Can I have some more?” she asked, lunging into my lap.

“Nope,” I said, swiftly changing the subject. “It’s almost midnight. We need to make our New Year’s Rabbit Resolutions.”

Here’s what we cooked up.