Yesterday I lost my twelve-year-old bunny.
The ex got her for my birthday all those years ago, when she was four months old. She hated me pretty much from day one.
“Skyla, you’re a crazy cat lady! All animals love you!”
No, not this one.
I spent years reading up on rabbit behavior trying to get her to like me. Eventually she reached the point where she’d take a treat from me, but that was it. She was territorial and stomped when I came near her, and often growled and tried to bite if I had my hand in the cage to clean it for any reason. And really, it was JUST me. She responded well to other humans and all other animals.
Maybe it’s because originally we thought she was a boy and she didn’t like this.
The pet store said she was male and as she wouldn’t let me check, I assumed they were correct (they weren’t). Initially I wanted a bunny named Othello but once I got her, it became apparent that wasn’t her name. I went with Caboose from Red vs Blue, because he is one of the greatest characters ever, and I found myself calling “Caboose!” with an exasperated sigh every time she thumped at me. (Plus I was pretty sure she’d kill me with a tank if she got the chance.)
While she hated me, she LOVED the cats.
When she was little, I had a young cat who used to play with her all the time. They’d chase each other around a chair in the living room and when Caboose went back in her cage, she’d lie against the side of it and Malory would lie on the other side so they’d be back to back. Now, even in her later years, her BFF was my kitty the Doombuggy, who would curl up in the cage with her all the time.
Even as a senior, when you’d think she’d be mellow, she never grew to like me very well, but she tolerated my presence as long as I gave her strawberry yogurt treats (and god help me if I didn’t). She was crotchety and tolerated no bullshit; if the cats got playing around her cage, she’d thump at them as if banging her cane on the floor to say “GET OFF MY LAWN.” Basically, she is what I plan to be when I’m an old lady.
The most Caboose-like moment I will ever remember is from several years ago.
It was summer and we lived in a townhouse with a small fenced-in backyard. I let Caboose out to play in the grass, and Sophie and the kitties were out as well. My ex had a young (not quite a year old) kitty who was a barn cat and an absolutely little terror.
The grass was long and I watched the kitten stalking through it, body low to the ground, heading after Caboose. Unlike some of my other cats and dog, I had no doubt the kitten would attack her–he just had that wild streak in him. I started to rise from the patio chair, ready to yell at him, as Caboose had her back to him and she’d never see him coming.
Just as he bolted through the grass, Caboose turned and darted toward him.
She ran several feet and bit him; the cat yelped, spun, and hightailed it up the fence where he stared down warily.
Caboose went back to eating grass. The kitten never went near her again.
That’s my girl.