Creature Comforts | Robert Madden

There’s something to be said for a comfy cage.

Creature Comforts

Robert Madden

Sanctuary of Lost Souls Award

Didn’t they know rabbits were social animals? And only lettuce? Honestly, sometimes I thought they hadn’t a clue. Sure, they meant well. I’d give them that. But those slip-ups had me convinced. These people were quintessential do-gooders. Hearts in the right place, but clueless.

So there I was. Pretending not to notice the lettuce-fed solitary rabbit. My prey. Its scent was obvious. The bouquet of a lettuce-fed rabbit was sublime. Caramel with notes of honey and blackcurrant. They usually placed it at the far end of the enclosure, behind a juniper bush. Presumably in an attempt to make the scenario more real. Yeah right. If they wanted reality they would have thrown in a few of them. And they would have fed it the usual crap it ate out in the great nothing, rather than washed crispy lettuce leaves. It was hard to ignore it. But ignore it I did.

Their biggest mistake was in thinking that I wanted to go back out there. Back to the great nothing. Why would they think that? Out there I’d spend forever and a day in the search for my next meal. When I eventually found a warren of the furry critters I’d have to chase one down. There’d be the squeals and pointless struggle when I sunk my claws into it. Finally, I’d settle down to dine on a heap of dirt covered fur. An awful load of bother for such an inadequate meal.

It was the same every time. After a while they’d realise that I wasn’t going to “hunt” for my food that day. Obviously not ready – so they assumed; the idiots – to be released back into the wild. So, they’d chop it’s head off and serve it up to me where I lay. Unbelievable. Breakfast in bed. And to think that I was pining to get back out there. To be just another chump living in the great nothing.

Honestly though, the best part of enclosure life was the sex. In the great nothing I’d be lucky to get my rocks off once or twice during the mating season. But in here it was twice a week. Amazing. And these pussycats were especially chosen. They were in their prime, so they were. Firm hindquarters. A glowing coat of black spots on yellow-red. Well proportioned. Healthy. I couldn’t have asked for more.

So that was me. Living the good life. Enclosed in a world of creature comforts. Pity the fools had to end it.