Lesson 1: resilience doesn’t mean not being scared

Enter Erev, my velvet-furred dark grey boy, who consented to be adopted a few weeks after his predecessor, Blue (also dark grey and velvety, hence my reservations about adopting Erev), died.  Blue died a week after I returned from my tour of English cathedrals last summer and was so connected in my mind with going away that I honestly didn’t know how I was going to get myself to Ammerdown without losing my marbles.

Erev was so scared when I first met him on the rescue’s website.  When I first met him in person, he resisted being touched, handled or approached.  Blue had always been so bold and cheeky – I wasn’t sure I could cope with a scared bunny.  When I picked Erev up for the first time and settled him on my shoulder, I burst into tears and declared ‘I’ve found him’; the bond was instant.  As time went on, I saw that he was both afraid and inquisitive and, while he would hide away from any noise, his curiosity would always win and he would re-emerge.  Watching him, I realised that to be brave it is essential to be afraid – otherwise it is boldness or stoicism, not bravery.  On this basis, I arranged my trip to Ammerdown and onwards to two more cathedrals.

Lesson 2: To be lovable, one does not have to be perfect

Enter Blue, the previously-mentioned velvety boy.  Blue was cheeky, used a nip to give instructions when his hints were not noticed and extremely stubborn.  I first met him at the rescue shortly after his predecessor, the Reverend Rabbit (black, with a white collar) had died.  I stated that I didn’t want a male, a single rabbit or a rex and ignored him while I cuddled the other residents.  Feeling no bond with any of them, I put my fingers through the bars of his hutch to apologise for not wanting a single male rex and was warned that they might get bitten; they did not – instead, they were licked gently.  Opening the hutch, he hopped down, rubbed his chin on me (the bunny way of saying ‘mine’), sprayed me with urine (same meaning, but more emphatic) and stood on his hind feet to look me in the eye.  I swear I heard the words ‘I shall now be your supreme overlord’.  I consented and he lived a very happy 4½ years with me.  He wasn’t perfect, but he was my beloved, wonderful boy and I still miss his cheeky face and affectionate licks.

Lesson 3: It is possible to be too resilient

My poor, beautiful Blue died of cancer as did the Reverend Rabbit.  Until the last few days of each of their lives, they both behaved as though nothing was wrong – being prey animals, they hide their illnesses so that they are undetectable, even to the humans who know them best.  Perhaps if they could ask for their needs to be met at the start of an illness, they would be less likely to succumb to it but, alas, it is usually too late by the time that they show any sign.

Lesson 4: You are lovable

Enter Schweppes, a red-eyed-white boy.  No matter how weird or odd you think you are, you truly are lovable.  Schweppes, the first rabbit I had as an adult, showed me that.  He was my little teddy-bear, following me around indoors and out, always running towards me when I came home.  Schweppes opened my heart to the possibility of loving and of being loved.

Photo: Erev