Truth be told, I cannot fairly blame Harriet's pissy attitude on tardy meal service. While her late breakfast may have compounded an existing irritability, my guess is that she woke up on the wrong side of the bed for a different reason. Harry, at about one year of age, is learning what it is to be a woman.
I'd been told that unaltered rabbits, upon sexual maturity, would begin to exhibit signs of stress and frustration, and reveal destructive tendencies. My Harriet, generally a very sunny creature, has taken to nipping (occasionally), chewing the woodwork (often), and attempting a honking, spinning, fawning courtship of my feet at every opportunity. With hormones raging and, excepting my leopard print slippers, no mate in sight, Harriet is entitled to her occasional funks. Navigating the trials of puberty without the benefit of spoken language has got to be hard.
Harriet enjoys a very stimulating, joyful life, and she is so very pleasant, so very often, that we love her no less for her occasional sulks. It would be nice, though, if she could be free of the lonely lustiness that is her lot. On this tack, I did some research not too long ago: it turns out that the going rate for an expert rabbit spaying comes, at least around here, to something close to $200. Given the state of our family finances, this ding might hurt more than the occasional rabbit scratch. As opposed to canine and feline alterations, rabbit spays are non-negotiably expensive. Despite the fact that rabbits are known to . . . how shall we say . . . reproduce like rabbits, I have been unable to locate a sliding-scale lagomorph spaying clinic.
. . . to be continued . . .