The Constant Rabbit

There was no one outside when I opened the door, and I stepped out into the early-morning light. It would be a hot day later, but for now, a low mist hung in the trees. Seeing no one, I turned to go back indoors and then noticed someone had spray-painted ‘Bunnyshagger’ on the garage door. I stared at the graffito, first thinking that it was outrageous, then thinking it was probably small beer to what the rabbit had to contend with on a day-to-day basis. I looked over the fence to see whether the Rabbits’ house had been similarly defaced, but it had not.

‘Probably because Hemlock Towers is Grade II listed,’ said Pippa when I told her two hours later over breakfast. ‘Remember that 2LG’s core demographic is middle-class professionals who would be more likely to have a subscription to Radio Times than be a member of a far-right gang.’

I outlined what had happened the previous evening. I told her about Connie, the script, Toby’s reappearance and the shower, the bedsheet, the Spick & Span judges and finally Norman’s forty-eight-hour ultimatum. I decided not to tell Pippa that Toby had slept with Arabella at the pony club.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, taking a slurp of coffee.

I sighed. Although I’d never consciously discriminated against rabbits, read a single issue of The Actual Truth or considered myself leporiphobic in the least – I was. As a young man I’d laughed at and told anti-rabbit jokes⁵¹ and I never once challenged leporiphobic views when I heard them. And although I’d disapproved of encroaching anti-rabbit legislation I’d done nothing as their rights were slowly eroded. My words and thoughts had never progressed to positive actions. No rallies, no angry letters, no funds to RabSAg, nothing.

‘Dad?’

‘I’m still thinking.’

But even if I had made a stand, my long-term and sustained employment at the Rabbit Compliance Taskforce would have negated everything. My most pressing emotion right now was not a sense of righteous indignation, frustration at the unfairness of my situation or even a courageous sense of justice that a fight needed to be fought and won. No, what I truly felt was a sense of deep and inexcusable shame.

‘I have no idea what to do,’ I said finally. ‘What about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘How bad do you think things might get?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Worst-case scenario: petrol through the letterbox, a broken jaw and TwoLegsGood run the Rabbits out of the village. Best-case scenario: no one in Much Hemlock talks to you or me for the next six to eight decades.’

‘That sounds quite attractive,’ she said.

‘It does, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m staying,’ said Pippa. ‘They’re not likely to attack me, are they? Even 2LG losers draw the line somewhere.’

‘That’s true,’ I said with a smile, ‘and if you’re staying, so am I.’

We fist-bumped nervously and sat in silence for a few moments. I don’t know what Pippa was thinking about but I was wondering what a broken nose felt like.

‘So,’ I said finally, ‘how was your evening?’

‘Harvey was there,’ she replied, glad too of the conversational change. ‘We went to Vegamama’s afterwards with Bobby. Had a good chat over dinner, mostly about MegaWarren. They’re all extremely suspicious of the Rehoming, and feel that this might be the last chance rabbits get to make a stand before losing any of their hard-won rights for ever. There’s talk of the Venerable Bunty issuing an edict about a refusal to be rehomed, but Harvey is worried that rabbits, naturally polite, compliant and disliking of confrontation, will not be able to refuse the order – and with Senior Group Leader Ffoxe and fifteen hundred foxes assisting with the Rehoming, restraint isn’t likely to be on anyone’s agenda, especially as foxes can use what force they wish with impunity.’

This didn’t sound at all good.

‘Are they thinking of another demonstration?’ I asked.

‘I think they’re beyond that. Harvey said that any attack on the colony permits the Grand Council to invoke Bugs Bunny Protocols – namely, that almost any behaviour is permissable once a rabbit is pushed into a corner – even violence.’

There was a pause.

‘I think Harvey and I have a chance together,’ said Pippa, looking me straight in the eye, ‘and yes, I will be careful and I do know what I’m doing.’

Despite Lord Jefferson’s celebrated proclamation of love for Sophie Rabbit, mixed-species relationships remained illegal and open to prosecution. When outed, most couples simply took up residence in the colonies. At the time of the Battle of May Hill, an estimated four thousand humans were living on-colony, eight hundred of them lopped to show thumbless allegiance to the Rabbit Way. Smethwick regarded them as ‘traitors to our species’ and ‘beneath contempt’. Rabbits regarded them as ‘welcome guests’.

‘You know what, Pip?’ I said. ‘I really hope it works out.’

Sally called to say she wasn’t going into college that day, and since I guessed Toby would not be going to work either – if ever again – I decided to take Pippa myself.