I share quarters with a rabbit. I'm told he's a "Polish dwarf." Could be.
A dozen years ago he was the runt of the litter who couldn't find a home until my #2 son decided he wanted a pet for his birthday. (Fair enough, his older brother and younger sister had pets at one time.)
Franklyn was in a box at a neighbor's house. The "remnant." The only other rabbits around were his parents.
#2 somehow found out about the kitten (as young bunnies are called) and told us he wanted a bunny.
So, off we went - #2, his brother and sister, and the father.
When we were introduced to a very small black ball of fur, #2 was afraid to hold it for fear it might fall and be hurt. The daughter, then perhaps 6 years old, was braver and her inherent motherly instincts rose to the challenge; she cuddled him all the way home - a matter of about two blocks.
Frank's been with us since he was 2 weeks old. He survived trips from Florida to southern Virginia and from there to northern Virginia, and, being in a Jewish home, he has "survived" a dozen Passovers.
Turns out he loves matzeh.
'Course he also loves soft bread and the Spouse's Shabat challot - we do the motze, share it with the humans at the table, and then while the first course is being tabled, I take The Rabbit his piece.
Frank also has been known to eat turkey and salmon and to drink tea from a cup; bunny lovers -and they are a vocal lot - probably would take umbrage, but in all but one case, Frankie's diet was "self-defined." He loves cereals, bananas, apples, and most veggies, but turns up his nose at carrots.
No one ever thought he would live this long, although we met a woman who said her dwarf lived some 14 years.
Over the years Frank has become part of the family and, as the children left to live their own lives, came to adopt me as his protector. The Spouse tries (and fails) to be distanced from him; she knows he won't live forever and . . . well, she has a big heart that will break even as she pretends she doesn't like him.
He isn't all that demanding. When he wants to be petted, which is often, he comes over and pats my leg, letting me know it's time to pick him up. Other times he content to pretend he's a dog lying at his master's feet - only question is, who is the master?
He's not quite as active as he was 12 years ago, but he still kicks up his heels and races around and around the room. (According to http://www.threelittleladiesrabbitry.com/rabbityears.php, Franklyn is - well, older than me; the cited site suggests 10 "human" years equates to 75 "rabbit" years.)
He is temperamental. A very social animal, if he's left alone for an extended period, he shows his displeasure by overturning his food bowl, sometimes managing to dump the contents into a water bowl. (He drinks from bowl and bottle.) We're trained; if we expect to be out for more than an hour we have to leave a radio on for That Rotten Rabbit.
Some years ago, Frank developed a cataract in one eye; turns out that is common in "older" rabbits. It never slowed him down; he goes tearing around the room, kicking up his heels. He no longer makes 90-degree mid-air turns as he did as a youngster, but then with no small kids chasing him he probably thinks "why bother."
Over the years I've learned a lot from a small black rabbit and laughed a lot at his antics as well.
Bottom line: Frank is very much a part of the family.
Frankie became ill just before Passover 5770 (2010) and died on the 8th day of the Omer (23 Nissan.7 April. See http://yohanon.blogspot.com/2010/05/problem-with-pets-good-bye-frankie.html
Yohanon
Yohanon.Glenn @ gmail.com
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