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[07 Aug 2009|11:30am] |
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I love how the local pet shop staff
- recognise me
- know what kind of animal I have (sounds obvious, but you buy the same sorts of products for rabbits, chinchillas, guinea pigs, ferrets, rats and mice)
- know what gender rabbit I have (the vets sometimes have trouble with this :P but they have his actual name in their system and it's quite a gender confused name)
- know how horribly spoiled he is.
They discuss this every time I come in.
The local store is out of hay and the store in town has switched to these bales that, while I can lift them, are too heavy for me to carry around for any distance. He has a sisal nesting box now though. He doesn't tend to go into things anymore except his box (though even that he's mostly given up in favour of the floor to the right of my chair) but he climbs on things and rubs his chin all over them and at some point he may figure out that he can chew it.
eta, 2 min later:
and indeed, he has started digging at it with his front feets and gnawing on the ends of protruding bits of sisal. Da! so cute.
also:
I've started actually trying to link the concept of being handfed a treat to me clicking my tongue at him. Hopefully my sister won't come in when she's visiting on weekends and start clicking at him too :P
and:
Tweak says, "what are these goddamn animals"
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