I live with my pet rabbit Molly. She is a 9 month old Lionhead and Netherland Dwarf cross. She likes to eat brocolli, celery and her own shit. I love her.
Yesterday Molly got neutered. I’d never been to the vets alone before. It was quite nice, a little waiting room tucked away in the far corner of my local Pets at Home. I suppose that’s a bit odd, like running a dental practice in the back of a B&Q.
I took Molly in at 9am. They were running a little late. A sat opposite a TV which ran adverts warning dog owners of the dangers of lungworm. I was called in.
I instantly felt at ease, not because it was a standard procedure, but because my vet was a lesbian. I trust lesbians, particularly with animals. They get the job done. No fucking about. Lesbians love animals, it’s one of the fundamental laws of humankind, I’m pretty sure it says it The Bible. It’s one of the commandments right after the one that says ‘cunts shop at Hollister‘. Anyway, she was lovely and professional and talked through everything I’d need to know about the operation.
They took Molly into surgery. I went to Sainsbury’s to get her favourite food for when she recovered. I called at 2pm to check if the operation had been successful. It had. She was coming round and I would be able to collect her soon.
I collected her at 4.30pm. My Lesbian Vet (I should really get better at remembering names) told me to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t chew at her stitches. Also, make sure she eats. If rabbits don’t eat for 24 hours they die, making Ramadan a difficult time for all Islamic woodland creatures.
This advice was a little pointless. I mean sure, I’ll keep an eye on her all day, but at some point I will need sleep. What’s to stop her tearing herself open at 3am whilst I’m tucked up in bed. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well. I woke up terrified at what may have happened in the night. Molly sleeps in the living room. I should’ve moved her to my room, but my Girlfriend was staying over and she already suspects I love Molly more. I checked on her right away. She was fine. She’d nibbled at a bit of celery and done a big wee…Molly had, not my Girlfriend.
She’s on the road to recovery. Gnawing at a few things here and there. I have to go back to Vets tomorrow for a Post-Op check-up. Fingers crossed.