Rabbits are highly social animals, like people. (Well, most people.) We seriously considered getting either two, or none, as is widely recommended; there’s enough suffering in Leporidae’s world as it is, with many sitting neglected in hutches.
Swiss law even stipulates that “such animals have a certain level of contact with other such animals.” But we were also persuaded that they have individual personalities, and can be content if provided enough companionship, even if it is of the slightly inferior human variety. It also makes a difference that one of us is always home, though he retires behind the couch 9-5 anyway. (By "he" I don't mean me; I retire on top of the couch.)
We met what was to be our new housemate in a garden centre almost four years ago. Needless to say, garden centres don’t rate any higher than Pets At Home for sourcing a rabbit.
What particularly recommended him to us was that, on observing him over the course of a few visits, we noticed that he kept himself aloof from his brothers. He was also gorgeous, which came as a surprise, given that our preference was agouti, i.e., the colouring you normally see in the wild. We later learned that he is in fact a relatively uncommon tricolour Dutch.
No evidence of vanityOn bringing him home we paid close attention to his behaviour, as you probably will with a house rabbit by default. (One of the reasons pets
in the home tend to have greater longevity than those outside, is precisely this proximity: you spot symptoms of illness quickly.) Of concern would be rabbity signs of unhappiness, such as excessive grooming and destruction, self-destruction, and aggressiveness. The first two come down to a matter of degree, considering.
Signs of a happy bunny include relaxed body language and posture,
flops,
binkies, and general good-natured tomfoolery, a word that hasn’t quite been decommissioned.
He clearly seeks our company, at times coming to look for one of us, perhaps honking (bunnies can honk, sort of) as if to say “What do you need, a formal invitation?”, then returning to his tray, not wishing to dine alone even when there’s plenty of hay and he doesn’t require the services of
wait staff.He’s touchy-feely on his terms, often lying down within reach but without especially wanting to be petted, as indicated by his getting up and going elsewhere when we try. On the other hand, there’s this:
which is essentially a demand that you drop whatever it is you’re doing and attend to his needs forthwith. I don’t wish to anthropomorphise – though a bit of that is impossible to resist – so will merely suggest that he regards this as a grooming session, rather than a call for affection. You’ll know you’re doing a very fine job indeed when he grinds his teeth sideways. This is the 'tooth purr'. "Why is he making that noise!" panicky new owners ask on forums, as heavy grinding can be a sign of a painful condition. Occasionally he licks the carpet while you’re at it, which some have suggested is a rabbit's mysterious way of grooming you in return.
He's quick with a nudge, and he will also lick us, even when there’s no food involved. This is another sign that we’re A-OK in his book.
A male rabbit will, if not castrated, more likely than not regard you as a potential romantic interest, following you around like the lovesick hormone supercharged teenager he may as well be, honking and circling so as to make one dizzy with desire in return. I was kind of sad in advance when he got the snip, expecting a complete cessation of some of these sweet if misguided behaviours. Fortunately the only thing he lost was his lust. He may beg to differ.
My wife and I never had children. Or pets, except as kids. We don’t regard him as a 'furbaby', but he is very much a part of the family, if one that we can legally keep in a cage were we so inclined. I never would have imagined the strength of emotion a little animal can engender, not having felt especially close to my childhood hamsters, for example (though I was fond of the
dog). They don't call it bonding for nothing. I can barely imagine what kind of shape I’ll be in when he dies, assuming he goes first. Sorry, this post was supposed to be about sociability, not soppiness.
He’s got his own Facebook page [details on application], which was fun for about 5 minutes. When he sees wild rabbits outside he has never shown the slightest indication that he recognises them as peers.
His entire world, aside from unwelcome visits to the vet to get his shots or his nails trimmed, is the living room, hallway, and three bedrooms. Oh, and us.
Race you to the couch