piperknitsRN
Well-Known Member
This is the happy-ending bonding story of two bunnies, Simon and Olive:
Olive is my six month old Holland Lop, who reigned free and easy for four months before I decided to bond her with Simon, a we-don't-know-for-sure-how-old-but-let's-say four month old New Zealand White Rabbit, who sadly for him, but luckily for us, landed in a local shelter.
It was not love at first sight. Oh, no. It definitely was not. Yet, I thought it was workable. At the shelter, there was a little chasing going on, a little thumping, a little pellet-marking, but nothing untoward occurred. Eager to have my very own Big White Bunny that I'd heard oh-so-good-things about, I took this as a sign of peace, and figured a truce was better than a fight.
Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.
It was even less lovey-dovey when we arrived back home. Two weeks ago I came home with two very disgruntled bunnies (apparently riding in a cat carrier squished against a another furry combat buddy does less than you'd think for bonding bunnies--at least these two). I then promptly made the unwise mistake of plopping Simon in Olive's X pen and thinking the Queen Bee would be happy with this arrangement.
She was not.
And she showed her displeasure with an unlady-like display of mounting the poor newcomer. If his shelter stay had been in any way jail-like, I shudder to think what he must of thought of that kind of household initiation.
Then the fur flew, and I found out bunnies really do growl when they're angry and huffy. Like, my dog (if I had one) should be this scary when he growls.
So I had to strategize. The meet-and-greet-in-a-tub thing you read about... nope. Not gonna work. If the bunnies hated each other on the linoleum of my kitchen floor, they definitely loathed each other, on principle, skittering around on the porcelain slickness of my tub. It was there that they learned The Power Of the Water Sprayer Bottle Set to Stun... I mean stream.
This was exhausting my creativity, but not to be outdone by two determined-to-hate-each-other buns, I circled the wagons and figured out a third approach.
Out came the laundry basket, in went the bunnies, and down to the laundry room for bonding sessions we went.
For a few days, it was rough going. I gnashed my teeth. I wailed (a lot). I learned that Simon is a very vocal bunny with a wide repertoire of squeaks, honks, oinks and growlies. It was charming, but it was also unnerving to watch my plans for bunny bliss so terribly, terribly wrong.
In short, I freaked out. I had bonded bunnies before, you see. I thought I Knew What I Was Doing, bringing home a sweet, innocent, charming boy to my (who knew how!) now feisty, territorial bunny girl. I thought they would be BFF's, forever!
Rabbit 101: It may be your time invested, but everything's on their schedule.
This goes for pets, snuggles (I wish!) and that ever elusive thing called a happily bonded pair.
I despaired as I watched two my cute fluffballs lunge at each other with the ferocity of wild, untamed beasts. What on earth had I done, I wondered?
But in the end, true bunny love won out after only a week. Olive got less defensive, Simon got a clue, and I had the Power of the Banana as my secret weapon. After they stopped lunging to kill long enough to "sniff to look," I dabbed Simon's forehead with banana. Olive, being the greedy little sweets-hog she is, licked it off. Simon, thinking he was being groomed, melted into a big puddle of white bunny fur, discernible from a throw rug only by his gorgeous shell pink antennae ears and slowly blinking ruby eyes. I knew then, there'd be success.
Not right away, of course. Olive played coy for a few more days, and Simon contented himself with happy, awkward binkies in her presence. Little did I know they would soon be cavorting around my living room, binkying simultaneously for the sheer joy of it, and settling down for long afternoon naps thusly:
I call it "Bunloaf X2".
It's been major bunny-love around here ever since Olive decided to tolerate Simon's presence, and then grew to like him, as evidenced by:
"Back off! He's mine! I wubbb him lots!!"
Yeah... Olive had to work hard for a few days not to show how much she truly likes him, but trust me, the grooming party works but one way in this household. Rarely do I see Simon groom her. (Not to be outdone, when it comes to food, Olive is the pushiest, bossiest bunny around. But gentle Simon does not come unglued by this, nor give quarrel, so all is well in Bunland, one would think).
Simon also littertrained within that week, and is even neater in his litterbox habits than Olive (who likes to hop out of the litterpan and leave nature's little coco puff calling cards as she exits. It's only one or two every time, but it's a bunny habit that drives me insane. I shall certifiably be The Crazy Bunny Lady in no time).
Heartened by my success (well, really, the buns success) I decided to leave my largely non-chewy, non destructive pair out of their X pen for the night and was pleasantly rewarded with a house that is only messy because I am an inveterate slob, not because the rabbits decided to go all commando-bun destructo and wage warfare on my furniture and/or carpet while I slumbered. (Shhh! Don't tell them they're rabbits designed to chew and dig absolutely every single one of my cherished possessions and not-so-valuable valuables).
Stay tuned, more to come...
Olive is my six month old Holland Lop, who reigned free and easy for four months before I decided to bond her with Simon, a we-don't-know-for-sure-how-old-but-let's-say four month old New Zealand White Rabbit, who sadly for him, but luckily for us, landed in a local shelter.
It was not love at first sight. Oh, no. It definitely was not. Yet, I thought it was workable. At the shelter, there was a little chasing going on, a little thumping, a little pellet-marking, but nothing untoward occurred. Eager to have my very own Big White Bunny that I'd heard oh-so-good-things about, I took this as a sign of peace, and figured a truce was better than a fight.
Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.
It was even less lovey-dovey when we arrived back home. Two weeks ago I came home with two very disgruntled bunnies (apparently riding in a cat carrier squished against a another furry combat buddy does less than you'd think for bonding bunnies--at least these two). I then promptly made the unwise mistake of plopping Simon in Olive's X pen and thinking the Queen Bee would be happy with this arrangement.
She was not.
And she showed her displeasure with an unlady-like display of mounting the poor newcomer. If his shelter stay had been in any way jail-like, I shudder to think what he must of thought of that kind of household initiation.
Then the fur flew, and I found out bunnies really do growl when they're angry and huffy. Like, my dog (if I had one) should be this scary when he growls.
So I had to strategize. The meet-and-greet-in-a-tub thing you read about... nope. Not gonna work. If the bunnies hated each other on the linoleum of my kitchen floor, they definitely loathed each other, on principle, skittering around on the porcelain slickness of my tub. It was there that they learned The Power Of the Water Sprayer Bottle Set to Stun... I mean stream.
This was exhausting my creativity, but not to be outdone by two determined-to-hate-each-other buns, I circled the wagons and figured out a third approach.
Out came the laundry basket, in went the bunnies, and down to the laundry room for bonding sessions we went.
For a few days, it was rough going. I gnashed my teeth. I wailed (a lot). I learned that Simon is a very vocal bunny with a wide repertoire of squeaks, honks, oinks and growlies. It was charming, but it was also unnerving to watch my plans for bunny bliss so terribly, terribly wrong.
In short, I freaked out. I had bonded bunnies before, you see. I thought I Knew What I Was Doing, bringing home a sweet, innocent, charming boy to my (who knew how!) now feisty, territorial bunny girl. I thought they would be BFF's, forever!
Rabbit 101: It may be your time invested, but everything's on their schedule.
This goes for pets, snuggles (I wish!) and that ever elusive thing called a happily bonded pair.
I despaired as I watched two my cute fluffballs lunge at each other with the ferocity of wild, untamed beasts. What on earth had I done, I wondered?
But in the end, true bunny love won out after only a week. Olive got less defensive, Simon got a clue, and I had the Power of the Banana as my secret weapon. After they stopped lunging to kill long enough to "sniff to look," I dabbed Simon's forehead with banana. Olive, being the greedy little sweets-hog she is, licked it off. Simon, thinking he was being groomed, melted into a big puddle of white bunny fur, discernible from a throw rug only by his gorgeous shell pink antennae ears and slowly blinking ruby eyes. I knew then, there'd be success.
Not right away, of course. Olive played coy for a few more days, and Simon contented himself with happy, awkward binkies in her presence. Little did I know they would soon be cavorting around my living room, binkying simultaneously for the sheer joy of it, and settling down for long afternoon naps thusly:
I call it "Bunloaf X2".
It's been major bunny-love around here ever since Olive decided to tolerate Simon's presence, and then grew to like him, as evidenced by:
"Back off! He's mine! I wubbb him lots!!"
Yeah... Olive had to work hard for a few days not to show how much she truly likes him, but trust me, the grooming party works but one way in this household. Rarely do I see Simon groom her. (Not to be outdone, when it comes to food, Olive is the pushiest, bossiest bunny around. But gentle Simon does not come unglued by this, nor give quarrel, so all is well in Bunland, one would think).
Simon also littertrained within that week, and is even neater in his litterbox habits than Olive (who likes to hop out of the litterpan and leave nature's little coco puff calling cards as she exits. It's only one or two every time, but it's a bunny habit that drives me insane. I shall certifiably be The Crazy Bunny Lady in no time).
Heartened by my success (well, really, the buns success) I decided to leave my largely non-chewy, non destructive pair out of their X pen for the night and was pleasantly rewarded with a house that is only messy because I am an inveterate slob, not because the rabbits decided to go all commando-bun destructo and wage warfare on my furniture and/or carpet while I slumbered. (Shhh! Don't tell them they're rabbits designed to chew and dig absolutely every single one of my cherished possessions and not-so-valuable valuables).
Stay tuned, more to come...
