This Easter, keep off bunny trail

By DONNA ALBERGOTTI

If your kids are begging for a bunny this Easter, take my advice and stick to the kind found in toy stores — not pet stores. Trust me: Life with real rabbits isn’t a bunny trail that you want to hop down.

I’ve had many rabbit companions over the years, and I’ve learned the hard way that, contrary to popular myth, rabbits are anything but “low-maintenance” animals.

Unfortunately, well-meaning parents often underestimate these animals’ time-consuming and often costly needs, and bunnies who are purchased on a whim at Easter are soon tossed out like rotten eggs after they grow up and the novelty wears off. Many are banished to lonely lives in outdoor hutches, sent to shelters that are already bursting at the seams with unwanted animals or set loose outdoors with slim chances of survival.

Others die early deaths because of improper care, breaking their young guardians’ hearts.

Rabbits require a lot of attention and specialized care. They shed profusely and need daily brushing and proper nutrition, including fresh veggies and hay — food pellets alone don’t cut it. They are terribly unhappy being caged, so they need to be litterbox trained so that they can have the run (or should I say “hop”?) of the house. But even male rabbits who are litterbox trained and neutered — as all bunnies should be, to prevent them from reproducing like, well, rabbits — will mark their territory by spraying urine on furniture, other rabbits and even you.

Powerful incisors

Bunnies also love to chew — on everything — so prepare to part with your prized possessions and pristine home. When I was renting apartments, I had to pay to replace carpets, molding, doorjambs and drywall after my rabbits “redecorated.” Electrical cords are almost irresistible to rabbits, and mine chewed through their share of fans, alarm clocks and Christmas lights. Nothing is safe from rabbits’ powerful incisors: I’ve lost pictures, documents, books and shoes to rabbit damage. One rabbit, named Triscuit, even chewed off a whole section of my hair when I fell asleep on the floor. I had to cut myself some bangs to compensate for the new hairstyle that she had envisioned for me.

Some of the stuff that rabbits chew on inevitably gets swallowed, and it can wreak havoc on their delicate digestive systems — or even kill them.

When rabbits groom themselves, the hair that they swallow can harden into a tumor-like mass that can block their intestines. Unlike cats, rabbits can’t cough up hairballs, and they have to be taken to the vet and treated (possibly even operated on) or they’ll die. I lost my first bunny, Slobodan, this way. I have also lost rabbits to “snuffles” — a cute-sounding name for a devastating disease that is extremely common in rabbits. Snuffles can be chronic, and rabbits with bad cases of it often must be treated daily — which is no fun for bunnies or the people caring for them. My bunny Charley spent most of her life getting a daily shot of Baytril stuck in her back to keep her snuffles under control. Even with this treatment, she got horrible colds and sometimes suffered from vertigo.

She finally died of a fever. Cute as they may be, bunnies aren’t good companions for children. Being picked up makes rabbits nervous, and they are extremely sensitive — the enthusiasm of even a gentle toddler can be too stressful for them. Their bones are so fragile that children can unintentionally break them. And bunnies will not tolerate the rough handling that a dog might. They will bite to defend themselves — and they will chase the intended bitee.

This Easter, pass up a real cottontail for the kind that’s stuffed with cotton instead — plush bunnies stand up to the strongest hugs, don’t make messes and don’t mind being tossed in a toy box and forgotten about once “bunny fever” has cooled down.

X Donna Albergotti is a writer for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, Norfolk, Va. Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.