Saturday, December 24, 2016


I found Plum Bob dead in his cage. 

Was it the vacuum/saw noise from our crazed pipe repairs? Flood trauma? A hairball? Sheer cussedness? We don't know.

But Bob is gone.

He would have been 3 next month. He didn't like other rabbits, but was patient with people and put up with brushing and plucking. He had a beautiful coat, thick and soft and all shades of cream-to-peach-to-grey. I named him Plum because he was golden and purple-grey, like a Stanley prune plum. And I thought he was a girl (my rabbit-sexing skills have since improved). The Bob part was tacked on when we figured that out.

From left: Bob, Marty and Crystal, their mom, eating C.'s homemade leaf hay.

We're bummed.

Looking blasé. This is just before he became aggressive and had to be separated from the colony.

He was a beautiful baby. From left, that's Rue, Bob, Fondu and Marty.

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