Sick on a Sunday

Bruce finds love in Gandalf the White

Posted in The Ladies, Things That Own by jamie on February 10, 2011
Nico & Bruce

Bruce & Nico

Well, after about 5 days, these two are in love.

Naturally, she wants nothing to do with me.

It was love-at-first-sight for Bruce. I was initially hesitant to find him a girlfriend because he’d had a somewhat rocky past of companion animals. Turns out, he is one needy little rabbit.

He was so in love, in fact, that the only trouble I had bonding them is that, despite lacking the proper equipment, he kept humping her. Apparently she is just not that kind of girl.

Well, he’s stopped that, and in true girlfriend fashion, she is all into grooming him. She may have picked this up from me constantly telling the boyfriend, “You have shit on your face.”

Her name is Nico, if I dyed her pink, she’d look like Animal from the Muppets. As is, she looks like Gandalf the White. If she ever warms up to me, you best believe I’m putting bows in her hair.

Gandalf the White

Gandalf the White





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Unrequited Love

Posted in Random Rants by jamiemarie on May 7, 2010

This is Bruce. I absolutely adore him.  He hates me (except when I’m hand feeding him Italian parsley).

I adopted Bruce last week with the help of  These people are absolutely wonderful, kind, and knowledgeable.  They work with LA City shelters, so technically, Bruce is a shelter rabbit.  Lisa, the fabulous and enthusiastic volunteer who helped me, tells me that Rabbit Match has a 100% adoption rate.  That’s how hard they work at not only community outreach to get the bunnies adopted, but also housing, socializing, and rehabilitating any bunny brought to them to make them adoptable.  They also sign off their emails with “Bunnyhugs” instead of a bland “Sincerely”.

Side note: I have very strong feelings about rescuing pets as opposed to getting them from breeders or pet stores.  However, that’s a blog entry for another time.

Some facts about Bruce:

  • Bruce’s name at the shelter was actually Springsteen.  For whatever reason, I find Bruce more fitting.  My mom – a native New Jerseyan  – was absolutely thrilled when I told her this.
  • Bruce is fat.  He is on a diet.  He gets much more exercise in my apartment than he did at the shelter.
  • He’s about a year and a half old.  Bunnies can live to be around 10.
  • Rabbits are very social animals and like being in pairs.  Bruce was originally paired with a guinea pig.  Then another family tried to pair him with their girl bunny, but things didn’t work out.  Somewhere in his interactions with other animals, one bit him on the nose.  Now he has a little scar, that’s hard to see because of his coloring, but is endearing nonetheless.
  • His favorite foods are cilantro and Italian parsley.  He’s sort of indifferent to romaine and bok choy.
  • He is litterbox trained, but sometimes he misses.
  • He’s scared of linoleum flooring.  Maybe not scared, but he will not go into the kitchen or bathroom.
  • He’s as adorable as he looks.

My apartment is only two (carpeted) rooms: the living room and the bedroom.  When the boyfriend and I are home, we open his pen and pretty much let him have free run of the place.  Despite this freedom, he typically chooses to lay across the doorway between the two rooms, just outside his pen.  He has also figured out how to get on the couch and the bed.  When he’s not occupied being totally lazy, he runs from the middle of the living room, to the middle of the the bedroom.  Pauses.  And runs back.  Sometimes he “hides” under my dresser.

I’ve been warned that rabbits are big chewers – and if I was going to have him roam freely around my apartment, I had to “bunny proof” it by covering all the wires in something unchewable.  He’s been pretty good about chewing (although he does like to munch rug, hmmm).  That is, of course, with the notable exception of me.  I am the only non-food item he has bitten.

I change his litterbox every day.  I feed him twice a day – both two minimal helpings of rabbit pellets and a wide assortment of fresh vegetables.  Before I actually put his bowl in his pen with his food, I make sure to feed him  by hand so he knows where his noms come from.  (Okay, admittedly, most of these responsibilities are shared, and boyfriend does them too.)

So why does he hate me?

Well, I keep calling him fat.  To be fair, he is fat.  However, I’m probably going to give him a complex when, while feeding him, I coo, “aww, you like that cilantro, don’t you, fatty?”

But really, it probably has something to do with the fact that I tend to act like Elmyra Duff.

While I’ve never tied him him and hung him from a tree, I do have a tendency to chase him around my apartment while surrounded by tiny airborne hearts.  Rabbits generally don’t like to be picked up – but how else am I going to force him to cuddle with me?!  I mean, look at him!  Who wouldn’t want to snuggle with that widdle wabbit face?

So every day at work I daydream about coming home and playing with my bunneh.  And every day, I promise myself, “Today will be different.  When I get home, I’m not going to act like Elmyra Duff.  I’m going to feed Bruce and pet him once or twice, then let him come to me.”  And every day, I fail miserably.