The Adventures of Tiny R
A Bunny's Taleby Betty Ann Cassano June 15, 1997
Page 7
Tiny R's Tail
The other day I made a big discovery. Tiny R's tail isn't just a black, furry cotton ball hooked onto his backside. There's something else in there besides fur.
Tiny R was in a particularly friendly mood. He sidled up beside my chair and stood up on his hind legs to let me know he was ready to be petted. So I reached down and began stroking his head and ears. After a minute Tiny R settled into his loaf position. That is his signal that he's in the mood for some serious attention.
So I stroked his back and under his chin. Tiny R seemed especially calm. Gradually my hand worked its way to his little rounded behind. As my hand slid over his fur, I felt something solid in the center of his tail. It felt like the stub of a pencil.
My gosh, I thought, Tiny R has a real tail. A little short, stubby tail. And all this time I thought a rabbit's tail was nothing more than a ball of fur.
When I thought about it logically, it made sense that the furry part of the tail had to be attached in some way. I had just never given it any thought.
I guess it's never too late to learn something new.
Breakfast
No matter what time of the morning I get up, the routine is the same: As soon as I come into Tiny R's sight, he bounces on the bottom of his cage to make a rattling sound and then grabs the wire mesh on the front of his cage with his front paws and stands there with his nose pushed against the wire. Waiting.
And what is he waiting for? Well, breakfast, of course.
Tiny R is an old fashioned rabbit. He doesn't go in for anything exotic. What he loves is a couple of bite-sized shredded wheat biscuits. Just plain. Hold the milk and sugar.
Actually, as he nibbles at the miniature wheat bales, some of it drops down into the litter pan. But Tiny R doesn't seem to notice. As long as he gets his "shredded" in the morning, his day is off to a great start.
Just Breez'n Along
Now that the days are getting warm, we will soon be getting the old "swamp cooler" into operation. A swamp cooler is just another name for an evaporative cooler. They work quite well here where the summer humidity is low.
Anyway, we are beginning to experience some days in the low 90's and it won't be long before the mercury reaches 100 degrees and more. That got me to thinking. Poor Tiny R is wearing what amounts to a down sleeping bag. He can't take his fur off just because it's getting hot.
What to do? Then I remembered the little 6-inch electric fan I had in the closet. I got it down and placed it about three feet back from Tiny R's cage and turned it on.
Tiny R loved it. Just a gentle breeze. Enough to flutter his fur a little. Tiny R flopped down on his side, positioning himself to get the optimum effect from the little fan.
Later, when his cage door was opened and Tiny R came out for a visit, he hopped right over to the fan and gave it a good looking over. I didn't worry because the fan blade is completely enclosed in a wire covering too small for even a bunny's nose to poke through. And the cord was out of sight. He gave it a nudge with his nose to show his approval and then hopped off to inspect the rest of his realm.
As the summer heat grows in intensity, I am going to try another rabbit cooling idea I read about. It involves freezing water in a milk carton and then placing the carton in the rabbit cage during the hot part of the day. The coolness should radiate out from the block of ice and make the air nearby a lot more tolerable for Tiny R. Then, if he doesn't nibble the carton, the water from the thawed ice should remain right inside the carton and not make a soggy mess in the litter pan underneath the cage floor.
I haven't tried it yet but I've got a couple of ice-cartons in the freezer now. I'll let you know if the idea works.
Pizza? Out of My Way!
No, Tiny R hasn't abandoned his vegetarian ways. But he does enjoy a small taste off the edge of a pizza crust. No sauce, cheese or toppings. Just the chewy crust. Pizza crust ranks right up there with sourdough toast in Tiny R's estimation.
Sometimes I just can't stand the thought of cooking dinner. On those occasions, my son, Eric, knows just what to do. An emergency phone call is placed to the nearest Round Table Pizza.
When Eric comes home with the pizza and the box is opened, the aroma sends Tiny R into a frenzy. He hops around in his cage, thumps and bumps, rattling the wire floor until we get the hint. "Hey, I'm part of this family. Don't forget me!"
So we break off a little piece of the crust for him. He snatches the pizza with his teeth and immediately settles in for a satisfying chew. Then he's perfectly happy. Munch, munch, munch.
This Isn't Timothy!!
Horror of horrors! The last of the Timothy hay is gone. So I went to the local feed store to buy some more. But they didn't have any. So I ended up buying a bale of good quality grass hay. I knew Tiny R would be disappointed. It wasn't Timothy. Tiny R would definitely know the difference. I had misgivings when the man loaded the hay into the pickup, but what could I do?
So I brought the hay home and put it in the garage. And, since we have two old cats who love to sit on hay if they get a chance, I covered the bale with a plastic tarp to keep it clean.
When the first handful of the new hay was put into Tiny R's cage, I knew what the response would be. I'll admit I kind of cringed as Tiny R hopped over to see what I'd brought him.
Oh no! Tiny R whipped his whole body around to face me. It didn't take a genius to read his mind. "What kind of trick are you trying to pull on me? This stuff isn't Timothy." Then he snuffled around in the hay trying to find some little tidbit that met with his approval. But his search was in vain. Just plain old grass. Nothing but grass. What a let down!
It's been a couple of weeks now. Tiny R has become resigned to the grass hay. He nibbles at it now and then. But it isn't with the gusto that he had for his Timothy.
I've learned my lesson. As soon as the new crop of Timothy hay is harvested, I'll buy a bale for Tiny R. No matter what it costs or how far I have to drive to get it. There are some things in life you just shouldn't scrimp on.
The other day I noticed my bedroom door was open and, since Tiny R was out to play, I went down the hall to shut it. Of course, Tiny R figured out where I was going and was right on my heels the whole way. When I started pulling the door shut, Tiny R stood up on his hind legs and started pushing the door with his front paws to try to keep it from closing.As I held onto the doorknob, Tiny R pushed and pushed. He could have simply dashed through the opening into my bedroom if getting under my bed had been his only objective. It came down to a simple "who's in charge" issue. I wanted the door closed and he wanted it left open.
What Tiny R lacks in physical size and strength he more than makes up for in pure determination. He refuses to quit as long as there is a hint of a chance that he will prevail. What a gutsy little character.
But I still won.
The Thunder of Tiny Feet Tiny R likes to tease and play games. Sometimes he seems perfectly content to make his rounds of the living room, sniffing and proding various pieces of furniture with his nose. Or checking out some new intriguing item that may have been left within his sight and reach. Tiny R is definitely an observant and curious little critter and nothing goes unnoticed when he's out on the prowl.
Most of the time, when Tiny R's through with his inspection, he hops up on the fireplace hearth and fluffs his fur as he settles in for a little rest. Then he sits on the hearth and waits. Very still and quiet. Like a little black shadow, he patiently bides his time and waits.
And what does he wait for? A sneak attack, of course!
When we least expect it, the little black fluff ball goes into action. Like a bolt of lightning, Tiny R launches off the hearth and streaks past our legs and down the hall. Sometimes he catches me so much by surprise that I don't even know he's going by until he's out of sight. All I hear is the tiny drum-roll vibration of his feet as he thunders past me.
One thing for sure, when a rabbit goes tearing past you on his way to some sort of devilment, you'd better be close on his heels.
It used to be that Tiny R's objective was to get down to my bedroom door to see if it was, perchance, open a wee crack. If not, the next best plan was to try to dig a hole in the carpet to get under the door. Or sometimes he simply sat on his haunches and tried to dig a hole through the door with his front paws. And on occasion he still tries to do that.
Tiny R still makes his usual dashes down the hall but, now when he gets to the end, instead of immediately attacking the door or the carpet, he waits until he can see me coming. He just sits there, his head slightly lowered, taunting me with his unblinking stare and his sideways "come and get me" stance. Then, he hops over to the door and starts digging as fast as he can. The only thing I can think of is that he must like an audience.
One day, in a fit of frustration, I lost it. I started yelling "Git, Git!!" at the top of my lungs. Neighbors, be damned! I didn't care who heard me!
Tiny R's reaction to my explosive outburst was impressive. He immediately came bounding back down the hall toward his approved play area. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. "Wow!" I thought. "Finally something that works besides the spray bottle."
Now I'm sure that some of you are probably thinking, "Yes, but didn't the yelling damage poor Tiny R's psyche or something?"
Let me tell you. The answer is a resounding, "NO!" He didn't become fearful or cowering. In fact, he hopped right over to me as if nothing out of the ordinary had occured. He is the same old Tiny R except that he now vacates the hall when I yell those magic words.
Yes, Tiny R has learned to get out of the hall when he's told. Well, actually he doesn't do it everytime, but almost.
OK, I'll admit it. Tiny R comes when he darned well feels like it.
There! Are you satisfied?
After his eviction from the hall and when he gets back to the living room, Tiny R always gives a little bunny side-kick as he screeches to a stop, just to let me know that he hasn't relinguished any of his inalienable rabbit pride. Now that I think about it, I think his little kicks may be his way of laughing at me.
Tiny R no doubt feels pretty smug. After all, what other 5# animal can get his human companion to perform in such an outlandish way? Outbursts of "Git! Git!" at odd-ball hours? I wonder what the neighbors think?
Oh, well. I think I'll just let them wonder. They probably wouldn't believe me if I told them anyway.
I was on my way to the garbage can with the old lamp shade in my hand when it came to me. Maybe Tiny R would like to play with it. He always likes something new to explore. So I turned around and brought the old shade back in the house.The first thing I did was remove the metal parts inside. Then I looked it over to make sure there weren't any decorations or loose pieces that could be nibbled off. It was a very plain lamp shade so it looked pretty benign, just a big paper tube.
I could see Tiny R peering out of his cage as I turned the lamp shade on its side against the front of the fireplace hearth. Since it had a tendency to roll, I propped a small toolbox against the other side of the shade to stabilize it. Then I opened the door of Tiny R's cage and sat down to watch.
Tiny R practically knocked himself down trying to get out of his cage. He hit the deck with a "flumph!" and scampered over to the lamp shade. After a thorough inspection, Tiny R hopped inside.
He sniffed, he poked, he pushed. Then Tiny R hopped out the other end and turned around. You could almost see the wheels turning in his little head. Hop, hop hop. Right back into the lamp shade. Fun. Poked his head out the other end. "Are you watching, Mom?"
In and out. In and out. First one end and then the other. "Wow! This is great!"
For the next three or four days the old lamp shade was Tiny R's favorite toy. He spent 10 to 15 minutes at a time just sitting inside. And after his tours around the house, he headed back to the lamp shade instead of his favorite hangout on the hearth.
But now the lamp shade is showing signs of deterioration. Its roundness is being replaced by an oval look. And sagging more everyday. The inside is starting to crack, probably because of so many years of lightbulb heat drying the papery part. And Tiny R hopping up and down on it, of course.
So the old lamp shade is approaching the true twilight of its life. One of these first mornings Tiny R will look out and find his hideout gone. On its way to that great dumpster in the sky. But it will have had its last great hurrah. And Tiny R will have had a whole lot of fun.
Go to next page
Return to Tiny R's Main Page
Copyright 1996-2001 - All rights reserved
E-mail address: bettyann@cassano.com