Mr. Smee is a Punk.

Mr. Smee is a rabbit we've been given. We were going to get a rabbit for the girls because it's a mammal that doesn't take up much space - great for apartment-dwellers. Our 17-yr-old friend said he'd be willing to part with his rabbit, Mr. Smee. Mr. Smee is absolutely adorable. He's a Mini Rex- tiny, even for a bunny. He has fat little cheeks, as shown, and he's an earthy brown color that's very pretty and modest.

I lobbied hard to change his name because it's sort of a mouthful, but Richie said it fit him and the girls insisted he'd be confused if we change it. They don't know that his brain is even more parts instinct than the ordinary housepet.

But this fact has caught up to me with a vengeance.

When I first thought of getting a rabbit, I had seen the family to whom this one belongs put out newspapers for the rabbits to "go" on while in the house. They said it sort of worked. I read online that rabbits can be litter trained fairly easily and can have supervised run of the house - or of some rooms. The article online said rabbits are naturally prey animals and must be respected even though it's tempting to just pick them up all the time. It said that by respecting the rabbit, it would learn to trust us and come to us of its own free will. But the article also emphasized the prey nature of the rabbit's instincts. They like to burrow and hide. It mentioned that sometimes the rabbit will vie for top rabbit status, occasionally nipping a human caretaker. If this happens, you're supposed to make a high-pitched squealing noise and say "NO" loudly. Finally, it said rabbits won't usually mind your cage-cleaning because rabbits like to have a fresh, clean home. Oh, and you should "gently herd" the rabbit back to its cage at the end of its foray into the larger home.

Mr. Smee came to us in his familiar hutch, but wouldn't come out of his little wooden house for the first week. I respected him by keeping my distance and changing his food. We practically didn't see the little guy that entire first week. Then he started coming out. Then we opened his door, which prompted him to hide in his little house again. Gradually, he started venturing out of his cage, but would run back inside if he saw one of us come near. Now, however, Mr. Smee has really come out of his shell and there are parts of him I'd like to put back in - like the biting and attacking. In other ways, he's just as shy as ever - not letting us come very near him (unless he's lunging in for a bite), for instance. You can only pet him if you can catch him first.

On litter training: a gradual and tenuous success story. Mr. Smee had been kept outside in his hutch with three other bunnies in their own hutches. His accustomed bedding was hay, which the kids would change periodically. I'm guessing based the condition of his hutch pan that the frequency of total clean-out was low. As I mentioned, he "went" on paper when the kids brought him inside. I couldn't keep him in hay because it's an incredibly messy medium and nearly impossible to clean without scrapping the whole load and starting over. Not to mention we don't have a convenient source of hay (Mr. Smee's family of origin has horses, so they practically have hay coming out of their ears).

Since Mr. Smee had been pooping and peeing mainly on hay, I first tried restricting his hay to a litter box (casserole pan) in the spot he likes to "go" on an overall covering of newspaper. Well, smart little bunny hunkered in the hay box (which I'm sure felt like home) and pooped and peed all over the paper - usually near the water bottle. So that didn't work. I tried several combinations of store-bought litters and and store-bought nesting materials, chasing his flavor-of-the-week latrine site with the litter box. All the while I changed the entire kit and caboodle weekly because Mr. Smee resisted the idea of using the box.

That was LOTS of work.

Finally, after six weeks and as many complete litter changes, Mr. Smee began to live on paper and poop in a casserole of aspen pellets. He finally got it! Hallelujia! Songs of rejoicing!

Now he loves to roam in the open upstairs and has all sorts of nooks he calls home. We know he calls them home because he attacks intruders. No kidding. This (literally) pint-sized prey animal is an attack bunny. I have to wear gloves or use one of Mazie's Sponge Bob slippers as protection when I try to "gently herd" him back to his cage. By the way, that "gently herding" stuff is a load. Mr. Smee is hellbent on exploring the world and hiding out in one of his various forts and NOT going into the cage when herded. This means that we resort to chasing him down in teams, as it's next to impossible to catch him one-on-one. In this respect, he acts like a finely tuned prey animal. He even wriggles free (his fur is so soft and silky) when you think you've caught him.

Once I was trying to catch him with the girls and he vanished. One moment he was under the bed, evading capture, and the next, he was gone. It turns out he was IN the bed. I mean inside the box springs. He had made a hole in the flimsy box springs cover and had discovered an unbeatable hideout.

In the silliest chase to date, Mr. Smee was darting around trying to get away from Mazie and me. He darted "under" a pair of Richie's pants. But he actually darted inside of them. I said, "Look, Mazie, he wants to wear pants!" Mazie and I both thought that was hilarious. He was wiggling around in Richie's pants leg, thinking he was getting away. Plus, Mr. Smee was trapped, so mission accomplished. All in all, a good chase.

Finally, Mr. Smee has begun biting me when I try to clean his cage. He's territorial and all, so I'm down with that. It's his cage. I usually use protection. But yesterday he bit the stew out of me while I was lifting his litter box out of his cage. It was the hardest bite he'd ever given - not a nip at all. It drew blood from my middle finger and it hurt! That's why Mr. Smee is a punk. He doesn't let you catch him, he doesn't let you pet him, he bites if you're in what he perceives as his territory (which we hope he doesn't expand). He doesn't come up to you and ask for affection. He pees on the paper whenever his litterbox goes for a little cleanout.

He still has a home here because of three things:

1. His submission to the ways of the litterbox.
   
2. He doesn't hurt the kids because they basically leave him alone.
3. His undeniable, manifest cuteness. (as shown)

But he's still a punk.

So, I bet you thought you were looking at an innocent bunny in these photos. Not the case. I'll add commentary so you can see them through my lens:

Prisoner begging to get out. Note the cute, innocent face.
The wary escape
Fleeing to the comfort of a nook (bunny bottoms are possibly even cuter than their faces)
I peek under Vivi's bed to capture This Face: the face you see just before you get popped, sucka.