Midnight Whispers

I was born four years ago in a pet shop on Sweden's west coast. I don't remember much of my first months, yet I am grateful a kind man chose me to surprise his wife for her birthday. I was six weeks old, female and she was fifty-six. Apparently, she had been through a rough year with her physical health and I was meant to brighten her daily life. She was determined to bond with me, in that dogged human way when they repeat words and expect bountiful results such as sitting up on command, giving out treats for ridiculous behaviours and exhausting themselves loopy with ideas to communicate. I had everything, agility training, paper towel tubes, toys, freedom to be in her and her husband's bed to watch television and okay, I enjoyed being spoiled to some extent. She named me Bella; I am part Dwarf and part Lion-Haired and without seeming vain, I admit I live up to my name.

In the living room I had free reign, my favourite spots were on the coffee table and laying on the cool marble by the fireplace; that is, when I was young. Two years ago, they rescued a castrated Teddy Bear rabbit for me to hang out with, his name is Ture. It's an old Swedish name that no one can pronounce and despite my delight at the possibility of nesting and producing a family of our own, in the long run I must admit we are more like siblings in our relationship. Frankly, Ture is not as smart as me; I am constantly having to nudge him to listen to our humans, wake him up and motivate his Eeyore like mentality into doing something more entertaining.

Recently, the humans put a huge golden framed mirror in the living room and although I have caught glimpses of myself in shadows, I have now confirmed what I have always known; I am beautiful. I stare into the mirror quite a bit, eyeing my soft grey coat, my irresistible ears and perfect petite nose. Ture, although adorable in his own way is uninterested in his appearance and more interested in eating. He doesn't even notice my beauty, so I have learned to make friends with my own ego and settle for my evenings lying in front of the long mirror, listening to my humans gloat over me and alas, given their sometimes pathetic attempts to get my attention, responding in ways that cause them to laugh and smile.

What is not easy to convey to them is that I indeed do understand their language, their discussions both light-hearted and serious. Ture understands also and is much more affected by any disgruntlements or talk about his easily tangled dreads and is quite sensitive to their constant chatter about how to deal with his appearance. Recently I overheard that the man who is called Pappa bought an extremely expensive bunny hair shaver kit. The lengths they go to please us is extraordinary. I get to, despite being semi-toilet trained, leave remnants of my sudden need to defecate under the dining room table and they still don't get angry. Ture and I have it good and we know it. Pappa works from home, we get to be in the office with him all day; the only problem is that we prefer to sleep during the day and he babbles on in conference calls about molecules and compounds and Ture and I must be quiet. They still think we are this quiet because we are rabbits and although Ture wants to be able to explain how he feels to them in their tongue, I have warned him that once they know we will wind up going viral on the internet, interviewed by reporters and we will never get away with, for example, his chewing on Mommy's wheel chair tyres, or her telephone cable, (more than once) and habitually peeling the wallpaper down in our bedroom. To shut him up I agreed to let him eat more treats than me in exchange for letting me handle the humans and communication issues.

Most evenings they find my picking up a brass bell that they place on the carpet by their feet and ringing it senselessly as endlessly endearing. I also pick up the tin fireplace equipment stand and bang it on the marble until they take it away. I respond to their repetitive request to open tin cans for treats, sit up when asked and bump them in the leg or tug on their clothing in turn for scratches behind my ears. I also jump, spin and run wildly around the living room to amuse them. Ture begs me to have a heart to heart chat with them about his homely haircuts and I again remind him that if they hear either of us speak, we will be stuck in long drawn-out conversations daily and entrapped forever into compliance. Talking rabbits will be asked, "If you know where the toilet is, then why don't you use it?" There is so much we get away with by feigning mute. That's why I threaten him at times. "Zip it Ture or I will give you a hair cut you will never forget!" Thankfully, even though he is older, I remind him I was here first, and that he was brought into this family for my comfort not his.

At ten-thirty, sometimes eleven at night Pappa and Mommy go to sleep in their big bed I once was allowed in. Now they’ve stopped me because of some rather embarrassing behaviours exhibited. For example, although licking Pappa's hairy arms they found sweet or my digging playfully in the blankets to hide only to pop out and make Mommy laugh were fond memories, I admit to marking Pappa's pillow with my own urine during my first round of spring fever. This ended our cosy family time in bed for good. Presently, once we are sure they are both down for the night I allow Ture to talk out loud with me. I can not impress upon you how different we are. He speaks so slowly I want to rip off huge chunks of wallpaper but can't now since Pappa has put up a fence to guard the walls.

An example of what I put up with would be this night's boring banter between the two of us.

"Bella?" Ture draws out my name, so it sounds like "Bellllll-Uhhhhhh". "What Ture?" I am short and feel somewhat guilty. He is upset that we only have hay for the night. “Ture, we have hay because it is what is best for us and stuffing your face full time with junk food is not only unhealthy, it shortens your lifespan. I don’t know what the humans you lived with before us gave you but rules are rules.” He pouts then tugs a piece of hay out of its holder and chews it up quickly. “In my old house they gave me hard bread, grapes, lettuce and apples just to name a few yummies.” Staring at him with boredom I repeat, “Those humans didn’t know much about rabbits, do you think if we were running around outside like wild hares, we’d have grapes? We are in Sweden doofus.” Okay, I am blatantly snide. Poor Ture drops his head and sheepishly curls up next to me. “Do you love me?” he asks. I wish I were mute now. “Don't feign for affection Ture; why do you ask such pathetic questions?” Ture starts to lick my ears and pauses only to say, “I wish I was as brilliant as you, as shiny and smooth as you and that we could live forever.” Whoa, I did not see this existential moment coming, especially from Ture. “Hold on, Sir Ture. Do you see when Pappa holds Mommy’s hand and they hug on the sofa? That’s because they love each other. When I lick your face clean every morning after breakfast do you think I am doing it for my own pleasure?” He mutters, “I dunno”. I nudge his chin up and place my right front paw on his back. “I take care of you because I care. Without you I’d be lost my friend. I may not say it because I am well, whatever I am, it’s not so easy. I even give the humans a hard time when it comes to affection. As certain as I am that there are stars in the night sky, I know you are here for me every single day and night. I would be lonely and sad without you, Ture.” Ture sat up, his old eyes sparkling and grabbed another piece of hay and gave it to me. "Why thank you my friend." I tell him that his gnarly haircut is actually quite appealing, "It makes you look much thinner Ture and brings out your eyes." His tail wiggles and he continues to chew hay. He makes so much noise when he eats, gobble gooble, gulp; he laps up water from our bowl splashing it onto the floor and my mood is testy. Between wads of hay he starts to speak, "Belllll..." I inject before he says another word. " Ture, don't talk with food in your mouth. I just cheered you up so don't make more slobber for me to clean up later." Ture looks at me with his pale eyes and once again I know I hurt his feelings. " I'm sorry Ture, really. I'll clean you up and then tell you some funny stories about my life before you came along." He lays down beside me and I preen his face, his ears and start to tell him about the time I ate half a candy cane until he begins to drift off into sweet bunny dreams. When I am sure he is asleep I say outloud, " I'm sorry I called you a doofus."