My bunny rabbit Otis has been a bit lazy this winter. Most of his day is spent in the kitchen, where he will sit for hours on end in the various pots and pans we keep stored under a butcher block table. I was always afraid to give him free run of the house, because rabbits like to chew things and I was scared to death he might chew an electric cord and electrocute himself. Lately though, I've decided to spend a hour in the morning letting him roam the downstairs of the house. There are only four rooms besides the kitchen, and when I let him out to hop and explore, I can usually hear the thumping of his big back paws as he scoots around with his big old butt. At first he is cautious and will slowly hop around the perimeter of a room. In the dining room he feels safest in the middle of the table and chairs, which provides a nice maze of obstacles to hop around and over. As he gets a little bolder he will sprint across the hard wood floors and when he sees me coming at him, will go into full blown rabbit escape mode, sliding and skidding to a halt, and then change direction in the blink of an eye. Sometimes as I watch him sitting on the green and yellow pattern rug, he will soar into the air and do a 360 degree spin and then shudder in delight. This is his happy bunny dance, otherwise known as rabbit maneuvers. He has been so good about exploring and exercising these past few days, I decided to sit at the computer and do a little work as he played. I became engrossed in one of my blogs for a few minutes, when the thought struck me that I couldn't hear his hopping and thumping around. I called for him and only heard silence. Then, in a moment of panic I searched the four rooms to no avail. Never would I have suspected where he was. He had quietly hopped up the flight of stairs to the second floor, and tried to hide behind the photo albums that are wedged between the rungs of the stair case. When I approached, he sprinted up the stairs and down the long hall and under one of the beds. He knew he was in trouble as I crawled under the bed and grabbed him. Down the stairs we came, and I gated him in the kitchen. He went immediately to his litter box, and proceeded to push the litter and hay onto the floor in a temper tantrum. When he commenced making a mess of my floor, he sat staring at me and chewing on a piece of hay. I couldn't even scold him, as it was I who was dumb enough to think he was not capable of hopping up the stairs. Tomorrow he can again have his hour of freedom, but this time I will not have the freedom to keep my eyes off of him for even a second. He is a Sneaky Pete, but I am a Nervous Nellie.
