A Very Important Visit
AS TOLD BY TREBLE · BLACK BUNNY, CERTIFIED CELEBRITY
Let me tell you about the day I had visitors. Not just any visitors—my visitors. Christina Beer, Maddie, and Leanne made the trip out to the farm to see me, Treble, the most distinguished black bunny rabbit on the property. They are my Animal Sponsors, and they work at a place called Absolute Hearing Services. I had been hearing very good things about these ladies, and I must say, they did not disappoint.
It was a grey, drizzly sort of morning—the kind where the rain taps softly on the roof of the bunny barn and the whole world smells like wet grass and cedar mulch. I wasn’t about to let damp paws slow me down for an occasion like this. I found myself a fine dry spot right on the porch, tucked just out of the rain, and settled in to wait. My ears swivelled. My nose twitched. I was ready.
When they came around the corner, I knew immediately. There’s a certain energy kind people carry with them—something warm and unhurried—and these three had it in abundance. I sat up straight and let them come to me. A bunny of my standing doesn’t scramble over. And then I spotted what they were carrying. Carrot tops, feathery and fragrant. Bright sprigs of cilantro. Even dill, sharp and grassy and absolutely wonderful. I’ll admit—my composure slipped, just slightly.
They fed me by hand, which is really the only civilised way to do it. The stems were long enough to nibble slowly, which I appreciated. I could take my time. We were getting acquainted, after all. Christina told me that back at their office in the Langley Mall, her customers always ask about all the bunnies she has around the place. Apparently she has a particular fondness for black bunnies. Well. I can’t say I’m surprised—we are objectively the most striking. She mentioned that my photo has a place of honour, front and centre, right where everyone can admire it. As it should be.
I posed for quite a few pictures. I gave them a variety of angles. I am a professional. After a good long while, though, the snacks were finished, my belly was pleasantly full, and I had given them more than enough material to work with. I flicked my ears, turned with great dignity, and hopped off into the cool, damp grass. I found a sheltered patch of clover not far from the bunny barn and settled in to keep half an eye on things.
They made their way to the bird sanctuary first, where Butter Bean, Lilly, and the other ducks were their usual splashy, chatty selves—always happy to waddle up for attention, rain or no rain. The hens and roosters were probably doing their usual thing, scratching around and being dramatic about the weather.
From the bird sanctuary they moved on to the old barn, and that’s where our founder, Keryn Denroche, came to meet them. Which was a lovely touch. And then, of course, there was Barney.
Barney the goat. He always does this—the moment new people arrive, he plants himself right in the middle of everything, blinking those golden eyes, tilting those horns just so. Christina apparently scratched his horns and he was absolutely beside himself. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Cedar, Willow, and Aspen, the shyer ones, were sensible enough to stay tucked away somewhere dry and out of sight. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to compete with Barney’s theatrics either.
In the new Children’s Barn, they met Frankie and Wilbur—our two pot-bellied pigs—who, from what I’m told, could not be bothered to lift so much as a snout from their warm beds. Big breakfast, apparently. Classic. Hazel, our newest little lamb, more than made up for them. Born without the use of her back legs, Hazel doesn’t let that slow her down one bit—she dragged herself right across the floor the moment she spotted new friends, bright-eyed and determined, and pressed her woolly little head into every outstretched hand she could reach.
And here is where I must lodge a formal complaint.
They gave Craisins—my favourite treats—to the Flemish Giant rabbits. And Dill. And Smokey. Now, I understand, the Flemish Giants are large and they make an impression. I get it. But I was right there on the porch not ten minutes earlier. Chandra, our volunteer, apparently forgot to mention that I, Treble, am also very fond of Craisins. I sat with this information for some time. I have moved on. Mostly.
Before they left the Children’s Barn, I’m told they stopped to give a gentle cuddle to Miss Delaware, our blind chicken, who received them with her usual quiet grace. They also met Emmie Lou and Dolly, which I’m sure was a pleasure for all involved. And then, right as they were heading toward the car, Peanut and Clover came trotting up from the field, all muddy hooves and warm breath, eager as ever to say hello. That’s those two—they never miss a farewell.
My sponsors stopped at the fence on the way out to say hello to Badger and Secret. Neither horse, it must be said, was even remotely interested in leaving the dry shelter of their stall for a little socialising. I’ll be having a word with them. We have a reputation to uphold here.
All in all, it was a very fine visit. The rain fell softly all day, the barn smelled of sweet hay and damp earth, and my sponsors turned out to be exactly as lovely as a bunny of my calibre deserves. Christina, Leanne, and Maddie—I do hope you come back soon.
Bring Craisins.
You know where to find me.
— Treble
