Environment – Farewell, Duggie

When I first met Duggie he was throwing his bowl around. He put his head down for a scratch on the noggin. He told me his name was Duggie. It was love at first sight. He was smarter than any dog, more loyal than a cat. He had a sense of humour, loved to play and was very wilful. Duggie knew his own mind and knew ours, too. It just so happened that the form of his character was as a round, furry lop-eared rabbit.

Rabbits are easily house trained and very clean. They easily adapt to indoor life, and Duggie was part of the family, ever present. He loved visitors. Well, most visitors … the child who touched him rudely did get a nip. He loved being part of the action. In winter, his favoured spot was as close to the fire as he could get. He had routines and knew ours. When people talk about their cats and dogs being part of the family, it was no different for Duggie.

Rabbits can be misunderstood because we vilify wild rabbits for their environmental harm and breeding propensities. But pet bunnies are incredibly cute. They have twitchy little noses, their mouths are shaped like a Y on a line, with velvet ears and feet like ballet slippers. So soft and loving. All too often, pet rabbits are kept in tiny cages like little live ornaments. Bunnies need lots of space, lots of care; they have sensitive stomachs and because they’re so smart, they can go mad in a cage.

So Duggie was free range in our house and deck, and in earlier, wilder years, loved being in the garden. He did love to chew electrical leads – a guitar lead, mid-chord, vacuum cleaner leads, zips, shoes, bags, plants, clothes, bedding; many were the casualties. But gosh he was cute. He would come when you called, sometimes; would stand ‘up’ on command, when he wanted to; would ‘run the run-around’ for a treat. Dinner time, the fridge opening, the pantry door’s squeak, were all triggers. When he sat in the hallway, we couldn’t pass without paying a toll, ‘paying the tax’ with a scratch on the head.
Our alphabet poem for Duggie reads:

‘A bunny called Duggie eats fresh greens, he is jolly jumpy joy, king-like on his mat, naughty on purpose, quite round, soft and tender until very wild, exQuisite with his ‘y’ on a line, and zzzzs in the bed.’
Bunnies can live up to 15 years, but usually life is short. Duggie was almost nine when the black rabbit of death came for him. He had survived many threats before, but this time the black rabbit won. My darling Duggie is gone. Out there in the vege patch is at least one wild bunny, and there’s a literal black rabbit in the paddock over the road. There’ll never be another Duggie, but rabbits will prevail.