Yeah, slink that is just painfully cute about the bunny. I'd give a bunny 30 min maximum in my house though. It's just not viable.
Another story about the same cat - Max:
He's got cat post traumatic stress from his previous owner who broke his ribs, so he has some very weird behaviors in general, and almost always has a look of terror on his face.
When I moved in to my apartment Max was new to me - he was about 8 months old and had lived through hell, so I really didn't know much about him other than that he is filled with fear most of the time. After unpacking, I noticed he was always hiding in this one box, so I put a nice blanket in it and and put under a coffee table where he could slip in and out of it but remain totally unseen - he liked to have hiding places, and spent 90% of his time in the box and got really upset if I disturbed him. The only time he would relax was when I watched the Simpson's, where he would cautiously climb out of the box and on to me purring, and stare at the TV. Since he'd been so traumatized by his previous owner, I just let him have his box, and decided to not disturb him if he was in it.
A couple weeks later I came home with two packs of sport socks - six pairs in each bag - and a pack of feminine napkins. Since I had no immediately need for any of these items, I set the bag down and sort of forgot about it. Then enough time passed, and I needed to use the socks to avoid doing laundry. I went to where I'd set the bag, and there sat a totally empty bag. What the hell? I started searching around - checking to see if I'd put the items away with out realizing it, searching around... but nothing. I could not find them. So it was a mystery.
Days passed. Then I was laying on the couch watching TV, and as usual I could hear a slight rustle under the coffee table: Max was snuggling in his box. Then I realized something. The rustling had a distinctly plastic-bag-ish noise to it. I lifted the coffee table and Max hopped out of his box and scurried to hid elsewhere. He disappeared to reveal that he had made a nest. He had somehow managed to pull the two packs of socks and the pack of feminine napkins into the box, rip them out of their packaging, pull out socks and feminine napkins alike, and make a perfect little nest, with a roundish-oval shaped centre for his little body, surrounded by socks and feminine product. There was no way I was going to abide by him taking my socks - which all had to be washed because they were absolutely coated with fur, and the feminine napkins had been mostly shredded to a fine pulp and got thrown away. I pulled all this stuff out and replaced them with some unneeded old PJ's, but he basically lost his interest in the box after that.
After that occasionally I'd come home to find that he'd pull couch cushions twice his size into other rooms, or the spoon thing - which actually happened more than once. He's always had an intense nesting instinct though. To this day if we leave any socks out he will take them, or at the very least chew on them. He has a little cave now -which is a basket on its side lined with a built-in quilted cushion. He doesn't put socks in it though - probably because it's so very cushy. I think he likes it because there's only one way in or out - no surprises.
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Topic: linnea's bad little cats almost died from their badness (Read 15239 times)