Today is a big day. It's my bunny's twelfth birthday! This may not seem like a big deal, but believe me it is. I've had rabbits as pets for a long time. Ripley is the third. Most of them live between six to eight years. This little boy has glaucoma in both eyes, but other than that, he is going strong. He naps much more these days though and I admit, when he is on his side fast asleep, instead of marveling at his cuteness the way I used to, I now check to see if he is breathing. Every. Single. Time. Other than that, he is still chewing things, battering the bars of his cage with metal dishes to make a point we're too dumb to get, and requesting a good scratch on the head before he'll start eating any treat you give him.
His days of terrorizing the cats are over. In his youth, he would wait until they were asleep on the couch before jumping up between them or on them, sending them scattering to opposite sides of the house. He no longer has the patience to be herded by the dog, nor does he crawl under the dog and want him to lay on him. He keeps his snuggle time down to a minimum with a quick little nip and attempts to get back to his cage on his own. We don't know how much longer he will be with us, but he has left his mark. I should say several, I find them every time I pick up one of my shirts and find a little hole, or a nibbled edge to a towel, or a missing chunk of a shoe.