The Adventures of Tiny R
A Bunny's Tale

Here it is, the end of April. Things are starting to heat up here in northern California. There's more than a hint of summer in the air. Won't be long until Eric has to go up on the roof and get the swamp cooler ready for the hot weather ahead. But until then, we are all trying to acclimate ourselves to the increasing temperatures.

We humans can eliminate a layer or two of clothing when the days get warm. Poor Tiny R is not so lucky. His fine, downy fur suit served him beautifully during the winter months but it's a real drawback when summer rolls around. Who wants to wear a fur coat when the thermometer starts hitting the 80's mark?

Tiny R never complains. It's not in his nature. So it's up to us to look out for his needs. And that's just what Eric did today.

"Where's Tiny R's little fan?" asked Eric.

I couldn't remember right off hand. "Probably in one of the closets," I answered.

Eric disappeared down the hall and pretty soon he returned with the little fan. After plugging it in and putting it on the fireplace hearth, we watched to see what Tiny R would do. Would he remember his fan from last summer? Tiny R was watching everything from his cage.

It didn't take long before he couldn't stand it anymore. Out of his cage he came. Up on the hearth. Right up to the fan.

Sniff, sniff. Nudge. Then a quick 180 degree turn and a flop. Right in front of the fan with the gentle breeze fluffing the fur on his now slender little rump. Stretched out, eyes barely slits, thoroughly enjoying the coolness provided by the little fan.

And then he did what he rarely does; Tiny R put his head completely down on the cool bricks of the hearth and slid his back legs out to the side. Perfectly relaxed and perfectly happy. And went to sleep.

After the horrible battle Tiny R went through a month ago just to stay alive, it was wonderful to see him well and enjoying life again.

A second chance is more than most bunnies get. And you can bet your bottom dollar we will never take Tiny R's good health for granted again!

After Tiny R got to feeling better, naturally we were overjoyed. As he regained his strength he started taking an interest in his surroundings again. It wasn't long before the old instinct to patrol his territory returned.

The family dogs had pretty much had the run of the house while Tiny R was sick. Discipline was getting pretty ragged. Without Tiny R to keep them in line, the dogs thought they could take naps anywhere they felt like. Even on Tiny R's new rug in front of his cage door.

Dogs on his rug?! That was simply unacceptable! It was time they found out that Tiny R was BACK! And in charge again!

The first thing Tiny R did when he ventured off the fireplace hearth was to make a puddle on his rug. We couldn't believe what we were seeing. Tiny R had rarely ever had a urinary mishap. Even as a new bunny, he had been meticulous about his bathroom habits. Why would he pee on his own rug?

The next thing we knew, Tiny R was making puddles on everything within 10 feet of his cage. It didn't take long to figure out that it wasn't a problem with bladder control. Tiny R knew exactly what he was doing. It was his way of letting us all know that the stuff he was marking belonged to him.

Tiny R didn't stop with his own rug. He also marked the area under the tea cart, under Eric's desk chair, any newspaper or piece of paper that happened to be on the floor, as well as several random sites on the hardwood floor.

After washing Tiny R's rug a couple of times, I gave up. As soon as the rug came out of the dryer, Tiny R made a bee-line to mark it again. I know when I'm beaten. Apparently the rug was the one thing that Tiny R loved the best and he wasn't taking any chances. A spray of urine was his way of telling the world, and especially the dogs, that the rug was his property and he didn't want them sleeping on it! So I rolled the rug up and put it away until this marking phase had passed.

The little pee pot even had the audacity to leap up on the sofa, flip around and squirt one of the cushions! It was not a random act. The way he dashed across the floor and made his assault on the sofa, it was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing. And knew that he would get in trouble for it. And was willing to take the consequences.

For about a week I had a roll of paper towels in one hand and a bottle of white vinegar in the other. And a rather grim set to my jaw.

Tiny R spent a lot more time inside his cage the next few days. He only got out when we could watch his every move and herd him back to his cage when it looked like he was casing the joint for a place to mark. Eventually he started heading back to the cage on his own to use the facilities. The old habits were settling in again.

The other thing that contributed to Tiny R getting back into the groove was that the dogs shaped up. They quit trying to usurp Tiny R's space and began showing him the respect he obviously felt he deserved. The pecking order was once more established. Tiny R was again recognized as the boss. And the pee puddles ceased.

Tiny R's rug is back on the floor now. He plays on it and does a happy hop now and then. And there are no urine spots on it. There is no need.

The funny thing is that since Tiny R is confident about his place in the family hierarchy, he doesn't even care if the dogs nap on his rug anymore.

Peepers, the young dog, naps on the rug quite often without any objection from Tiny R. Of course, Peepers always treats Tiny R with the greatest of respect, often paying homage to him with gentle licks on the nose.

Even in the animal world, it's good to be The King.

A couple of months ago I stopped in at Pier 1 to check out their supply of baskets. What I was looking for was a small, plain, untreated basket for Tiny R to play with. And chew.

But the smallest basket they had was about 6 inches wide and had a pretty tough looking handle on it. With misgivings, I bought the thing and brought it home.

Well, my hunch was right. It really was too large to throw around. And the handle was just the right size to trap Tiny R's head. So the first thing I did was cut the handle off. But still Tiny R didn't take to it. So for a few weeks the basket sat forlornly on a shelf with nothing to do.

But things have changed. The basket has become a very popular item in Tiny R's world. Almost every day the little basket goes outside with me and comes back full of freshly plucked clover and dandelion leaves from the side yard. Just like magic.

I'm sure the neighbors must wonder what I'm doing out there everyday, bent over, picking things out of the grass. And the neighbor man who spends the majority of his life grooming his yard must be puzzled by the fact that the area with all the clover and dandelions is the part of my yard that gets the most water and attention.

If it were his yard, he'd have the weed killer going in no time. But he doesn't have a little black bunny inside his house waiting for him to bring in a basket full of tender, young, chemical-free greens.

My neighbors probably look at my side yard and see only a weed patch. I look at my side yard and see Tiny R's garden. And that's just the way it is!

 If there's anything that makes Tiny R happy, it's having something new to make his life more interesting. Or more cozy. Especially when he's in the mood for a nap.

As Tiny R has grown older, napping has become a part of his regular daytime routine. Oh, he still does a lot of exploring and interacting with his human and canine housemates. And he's still as mischievous as ever. But when he discovers a comfortable, new place to catch a few winks during the day, he doesn't hesitate to give it a try.

A few weeks ago, when the weather turned quite warm, I stocked up on some soft drinks from the local "warehouse" store. The cans came neatly packed in cardboard flats. After the soft drinks were removed, I put the two flats on the floor for Tiny R to play in. And play, he did.

Tiny R had lots of fun hopping from one flat to the other. This was easy to do since the sides were only about 2 inches high. The way he sat up, looking so proud of himself, Tiny R reminded me of when I was a kid, playing "train" with a line of cardboard boxes. No doubt about it. Tiny R knew he looked pretty cool.

Eventually one of the boxes got used for something else. And the second box ended up on the fireplace hearth. That's when Tiny R decided that the box on the hearth would make a fine napping box.

Of course, Tiny R had to move the box around until it was perfectly positioned. It's really quite amazing how strong a rabbit is when he puts his mind to moving something. He simply grabbed an edge of the box and gave it a toss-shove. Over and over until it sat exactly where he wanted it. Then he hopped in.

With a satisfied look, Tiny R settled in. And took a nap.

It's been about a week now. The napping box is still on the hearth. It has a few nibble marks on the edges but that just adds to its charm. And as long as Tiny R still enjoys hanging out in it, the red and white soda flat will remain on the hearth, ready for napping. Or chewing. Or tossing. Or whatever.

It's the middle of June here in California. Summer is hitting her stride early. The porch thermometer is hanging right around the 100º mark in the afternoons. Definitely swimming weather.

Poor Tiny R. Still wearing his winter coat. Sort of. Actually a good portion of the gray downy undercoat was loose and sticking up in tufts. It reminded me of the hair style some of the guys in those "boy bands" are sporting these days.

I waited a couple of weeks, expecting the loose fur to fall out on its own. But for some reason, it just didn't. Tiny R looked pretty ratty. And it couldn't have been very comfortable. It was time to do an intervention whether Tiny R liked it or not.

Tiny R does not like to sit on my lap. He doesn't like to sit on anybody's lap. He's independent and likes to keep his options open. So he wasn't real happy when I scooped him up.

So there he sat, looking around for a way to make an escape. It didn't take long before he gave in and accepted what was going to happen. And then the plucking began.

Tiny R snuggled down, hiding his head under my left arm. Using my right hand, I began gently removing the tufts of down. It was amazing the amount of loose hair that came out. Soft down, so lightweight that small pieces left my hand and floated through the air. I kept plucking and the hair kept coming. For a minute I thought Tiny R was going to be bald if I kept on.

I really didn't have to worry. Tiny R has plenty of hair left. He's sleek and black again. No tufts of gray showing. I'm sure he's a whole lot cooler.

Tiny R didn't thank me for his grooming session. But he didn't hold it against me, either. After accepting a mini shredded wheat biscuit as a token of peace, our good relationship quickly returned to normal. And later on that evening, I felt a little nose nudge against my leg which I interpreted as a sign of friendship.

So let the summer do her darnedest. Let the mercury rise and blow the top off the thermometer. Tiny R is ready for it. Now that he's finally rid of his old winter coat, he is definitely one very cool rabbit!

I think it's been pretty well proven that some animals respond to music. My cousin always played the radio during milking time at his family's dairy. He said the cows liked it and gave more milk when some nice music was on.

We've had lots of dogs over the years. I can't say if they showed a preference for music or not. They were usually so loyal that they'd hang around no matter what kind of music we listened to. Of course, sometimes they quietly slipped away and found a quieter spot somewhere else in the house rather than howling or scratching long grooves in the door trying to escape.

With Tiny R, it's a different story. If you're a rotten singer, he lets you know about it.

This afternoon while sitting at my computer surfing some of the news websites I began singing snatches of old songs from my teen years. Actually it was more like humming since I can remember tunes but most of the lyrics have gotten lost in the cobwebs of my mind. I wasn't even aware I was doing it until Tiny R decided to comment.

Whamp!! It sounded almost like a gun shot!

I whipped around to see what was going on. There sat Tiny R on the fireplace hearth on a section of today's newspaper. He likes to sit on a piece of paper so I always leave one of the sections there for him. But he did not look happy. In fact, I would describe the look he was giving me as a full-fledged glare.

I checked around the room to see if there was something going on that Tiny R thought needed taking care of. But, no. The dogs were both close by taking a nap. It wasn't them. So I continued my reading of the latest news on the net.

I guess I must have started singing/humming again because Tiny R gave out with an even louder thump. His back leg hitting that newspaper really resonated.

Tiny R was obviously displeased. He was in his alert position, not scrunched down like a hen sitting on eggs. And if looks could kill . . . .

So what should I do? Knuckle under and shut up or keep on singing and annoy the little king?

Well, Tiny R is back to his nap now. He looks very relaxed, all fluffed out on the hearth. And the only sound coming from my direction is the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. I'm keeping my "songs" safely corralled in my head out of respect for Tiny R's musical sensibilities.

Now that I think about it, what happened to the dogs? They were both in here with me before I started singing. And now they're not. They must have slipped away when I wasn't looking.

Hmmmm. It's a blow to my ego but maybe Tiny R is right. Some folks are born to sing and others aren't.

I know which group I belong in now.

Whenever I hear those familiar sounds, I know exactly what's going on and who's doing it. Tiny R, of course. And the message he's sending is, "Hey, my food dish is empty!"

The source of the clanking is his set of plastic keys being thrown up and down inside his ceramic food dish. The sound is unmistakable. And unrelenting.

If a quick response is not forthcoming, a second line of communication is launched: the sound of his heavy bowl being pushed up to the door of his cage. That's where the rumble sound comes in. There's no mistaking what's on Tiny R's mind. "Fill it up and be quick about it!"

Well, what can a person do? Might just as well stop what you're doing and take care of the situation. Otherwise you'll have to put up with those two black eyes staring at you until you finally give in.

Long ago I realized that it wasn't any use trying to teach Tiny R the virtue of patience. When it comes to his food dish, he simply isn't patient. Not at all. It's not that he's a glutton. He's not even pudgy. He just likes to have a plentiful supply of staples on hand to feel secure.

So when I hear his plastic keys banging in his food dish, I've learned that it's much better in the long run to just keep the kid happy. So I get his dish, dump out the crumbs (he still doesn't like crumbs although he will eat them if he has no other options), and wash his dish. Hey, might as well wash his water dish at the same time.

Tiny R has been "watching" this process the whole time. He can't see around the corner to the kitchen sink but he knows what's going on by the sounds. Then I put a new ration of fresh rabbit pellets in his food dish and return it to his cage. And fill the water dish with fresh, cool water.

Guess what? Tiny R is instantly appeased. He settles in for a munch of a half dozen pellets to let me know that I have pleased him. Then he's ready to come out to play, explore, check up on the dogs or just hang out.

You know? It takes so little to please the little rascal and it means so much to him.

A clean food dish and a clean water dish. Whether for a baby or a bunny, it's definitely a very good thing!

It took quite a while for Tiny R to regain all his strength back after being so sick a few months ago. Before his brush with death he was a very vigorous little bunny. Could hop and jump with the best of them. Hopping in and out of his cage was easy for him. But his illness really knocked him for a loop.

When Tiny R finally started feeling better he was still quite weak. We could tell that he was hesitant about jumping out of his cage. And even more leery about his ability to hop back in. That's when Eric came up with the idea for a bridge.

Tiny R's cage sits on the floor a short distance from the fireplace hearth. The hearth is one of Tiny R's favorite places to sit or nap. So Eric decided to make it easier for him to travel back and forth. That way he could return to his cage for bathroom breaks without any help.

Eric found a short length of siding in the garage left over from a home repair project. It was just the right size. As wide as his cage door and long enough to reach from his cage to the hearth. A perfect bridge for Tiny R.

Well, once the cage door was opened and the new bridge was set in place, Tiny R showed no hesitation in trying it out. Before long he was hopping back and forth from hearth to cage as if he had been doing it all his life.

Tiny R's bridge has become a regular part of his cage accessories. In the morning he waits for one of us to let him out of his cage. He throws his plastic keys down in front of the door to get our attention. If we don't come immediately to open his cage door, he begins pushing his ceramic food dish around the cage. This makes a lot of noise and is sure to get a reaction.

Tiny R waits impatiently while we position his bridge. Then he triumphantly hops out for his daily breakfast of shredded wheat.

Many times during the day, Tiny R travels across his bridge. Sometimes to get a snack or a drink of water. Other times to use his bathroom corner. Or just take a nap.

And sometimes he plays hide and seek with us by sneaking under the bridge and waiting until we finish scouring the room trying to find him. Then out from under the bridge pops Tiny R's little black head. It's almost as if he's laughing at us for not being able to find him.

So what started out as a convalescent aid for a debilitated bunny has become a regular part of his life. Tiny R is doing fine now and I'm sure he would have no problem hopping in and out of his cage without the convenience of a bridge. But at 6 years of age, he is considered an "older" rabbit. Why not make his life a little easier?

And besides, Tiny R likes his bridge. It's just plain fun.

Tiny R's sense of fun has developed quite a bit over the years. He loves to tease. And he's always ready for fun.

When I get up in the morning Tiny R is rested and ready to start the day, too. It doesn't take long before he is rattling the cage door and making a ruckus to let me know it's time to hook open his cage door. Once that's done, he's out like a shot and ready for breakfast.

Tiny R's breakfast consists of 2 or 3 small shredded wheat biscuits. Then it's time for fun.

After the obligatory sashay around the living room, Tiny R checks out the dogs. If they are properly sedate, he's off to see if there's anything fun to do.

Tiny R loves to explore, to hide and to get into things. Sometimes I create a maze on the floor using boxes, bags or anything else that's handy. The more elaborate the better. Tiny R spends a lot of time going back and forth, inspecting each twist and turn.

If I'm not energetic enough to make a maze for him, a simple grocery bag is a good second choice. I usually put one paper bag inside the other so it will be stronger and stay open better. Then I lay it on its side on the floor where Tiny R can see it. Before very long, Tiny R will be crawling inside the bag. He digs and rattles around in there, every once in a while sticking his head out to see if anybody's looking.

Tiny R loves to explore the bedrooms. So he is always on the look-out for doors that are open. Not being complete idiots, we usually remember to keep those doors closed when Tiny R is out on his rounds. But sometimes we forget. And that's when Tiny R gets his chance to play Hide and Seek.

Tiny R has several favorite hiding places around the living room and kitchen. But if he accidentally gets access to my bedroom, you can bet that he will head for it at lightning speed. Then, in order to extract the most enjoyment from the game, Tiny R waits for us at my open bedroom door so that we can see him.

As soon as we start down the hall to head him off, Tiny R makes his move. Like a little black bullet he dashes inside and dives under my bed. A single flap of the bed skirt and he's gone from sight. And then he waits.

Our participation in the game is not as easy. It requires equipment and the sacrifice of our dignity to play our part. Not many people can maintain an aura of dignity while on their knees, heads stuck under a bed with their rumps sticking up in the air.

As far as equipment goes, ours includes a golf putter and a flashlight. Both have taken up permanent positions beside my bed. Tiny R's "game" happens often enough that I finally decided it was a waste of time to put them away. Eric is usually the one who gets the job of evicting Tiny R. My usual job is to herd him out the door once he pops out from under the bed. Sometimes I'm successful and sometimes I'm not. Tiny R has gotten so good at the game that he knows what to expect and often dives back under the bed if I'm not quick enough.

But the game always comes out the same: Tiny R loses. Or does he?

As soon as Tiny R is back out in the hall his whole attitude changes. He hops down the hall with a jaunty air as if it was all his own idea to leave.

That's Tiny R for you. Always alert and ready to take advantage of an opportunity for a little fun. As small as he is, Tiny R knows how to get a 6 foot tall man down on his knees with his head under a bed.

The colorful language is a bonus.

The other day I brought the recycling crate inside for Tiny R. It had been a long time since he played in it. So after the newspapers rode away in the recycling truck, I checked the crate out for spiders and then brought it inside.

After turning the crate upside down, I watched to see if Tiny R would remember it. He did. He hopped over to the crate, gave it the usual sniffs and pokes and then headed for the slight arch that serves as a doorway.

But it had been quite a while since Tiny R had been inside his old hideout. And while Tiny R is still a very small bunny, he has grown a little taller since the last time he played in the recycling crate. This became quite apparent as I watched him try to get his fluffy little body through the opening.

Tiny R's head and chest slid in without any problem. But when it came to his backside, well, that didn't go so well. I watched as he did his best to pull his rump into the crate. As hard as he tried, his back end simply wouldn't fit.

Finally Tiny R figured out what was wrong. His back legs were holding his rump up too high. If he kept his legs in their normal position, there was no way he would be able to force the rest of his body inside the crate.

Did Tiny R give up? Did he think to himself that he should just back up and find somewhere else to play?

Heck, no! This is Tiny R I'm talking about. One way or another, he was determined to get inside the crate.

The next thing I saw was Tiny R's back legs collapsing. Both of them spraddled out to the sides. With his legs spread out, his round little rump lowered just enough to fit through the crate's doorway. Then, without further ado, Tiny R's backside disappeared inside the crate.

Once inside, Tiny R spent time rearranging his piece of fleece I had put in there for him to play with. After a while he pushed the fleece out the door and settled in for a nap. Mission accomplished.

When Tiny R meets with a problem, does he back off and simply accept that he can't do anything about it? Not Tiny R! If there's something he wants to do, he does his best to figure out a way to do it. In this way, Tiny R reminds me of "The Little Engine That Could." Just like the little train engine in the children's story book, his motto is, "I think I can! I think I can! I think I can!"

The look on Tiny R's face whenever he solves a problem is easy to interpret. It's a look of pure satisfaction with just a hint of smugness.

Maybe it's my imagination but sometimes after Tiny R has conquered an especially difficult problem, I detect a tiny swagger in his hop . And if he could talk, I wouldn't be a bit surprised to hear a soft but exuberant, "I knew I could! I knew I could! I knew I could!!!"

Yep. That's our Tiny R. "The Little Bunny Who Could."

And who very often does!

There's not much that goes on around here that Tiny R doesn't know about. Especially when it comes to food. He can smell a loaf of sourdough bread from the time the grocery sack hits the front door. And his obsession with pizza crust is legendary. Well, that might be stretching it a bit but you get the drift.

Tiny R is not only interested in what his humans are eating, but what kind of treats the dogs are getting. If he sees Rags and Peepers crowded around me with their ears hoisted up as far as they'll go, Tiny R knows that something big is in the works. And within a couple of seconds, there he is, right in the middle. Sitting up on his back legs, stretching up to let me know that he wants a crack at whatever it is the dogs are getting.

Sometimes, if I know that Tiny R won't like the dog treat, I let him sniff it. One sniff is all it takes. Especially if it's meat or anything that has had contact with meat. Tiny R whirls around and shoots off to a safe place as if he'd just made contact with the devil. I make it up to him by giving him something he likes that's OK for rabbits.

The one "treat" that Tiny R and Peepers both like is shredded wheat. The little miniature bales. Kind of an unlikely dog treat, I know. If Tiny R gets one, Peepers, our youngest dog, is right there to get one too. I always give one to Tiny R first. Then Peepers. That way Peepers has learned that Tiny R is directly connected to whether or not he gets a treat. Dogs figure things out pretty fast when it comes to food. You can be assured that Peepers treats Tiny R with the greatest of respect. He apparently understands the concept of keeping the golden goose healthy.

Rags, our old dog, has more traditional tastes. He used to eat a shredded wheat now and then just to be social. But lately he's decided to let Tiny R and Peepers have his share.

We have made drastic changes in what we give Tiny R as a treat. Ever since his brush with death earlier this year, we have come to suspect that he can no longer tolerate "sweets" the way he could when he was a young bunny. So graham crackers are out as well as some of the other sweet things he used to get a taste of now and then. Now when he wants a treat, it is either a shredded wheat or some sort of vegetable, fruit, dandelion leaf or clover.

I think making Tiny R go "cold turkey" in regard to his sweet treats was a little puzzling to him. But we stuck to our guns and now he seems to have adjusted. He still gets a tiny piece of sourdough French bread crust or pizza crust occasionally but that's about it. When he wants to munch, there's always a pile of hay available for him to nuzzle through.

I guess what it boils down to is that we've decided that we are the adults and Tiny R is the kid. We are responsible for him and have to make decisions in his best interest. After all, we love him and want to keep him with us for a long, long, long time.

Have you ever caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and thought it was something else? That happens a lot around here. And most of the time the object is black, motionless, on the floor, sofa, bookcase, chair, under the bed, etc. and is the size of a small rabbit.

So what is a False R?

Well, in simplest terms, a False R is something that, at first glance, looks like Tiny R but isn't.

Most of the time the False R turns out to be Eric's black baseball cap. You'd be surprised at how much it looks like Tiny R when you see it tossed here or there.

Other things that have masqueraded as Tiny R include a black portable radio left on the floor, my black camera bag on the couch, a wadded up black tee shirt, a black ash shovel leaning up by the fireplace, and my black leather purse sitting next to a kitchen chair where I dropped it while carrying the groceries in. By leaving our stuff lying around where it doesn't belong, we actually create False Rs.

Even though Tiny R has nothing to do with the creation of False Rs around our house, it still feels like he's playing a trick on us. I think it comes from that mischievous look he wears when we find him sitting serenely in his cage watching us.

The way I see it, we have just two choices: either laugh at Tiny R's joke or clean up after ourselves.

Now that I think about it, False R's are kind of funny.

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