The incurious rabbit

Years ago, for a few wintry months before he lost his head to a fox, I was lumbered with the daily care of a rabbit named Rr. It wasn’t long before I found myself resenting it all – the resinous little pellets forever trailing his tail, the clumps of sodden hay and sawdust pasted perpetually to the base of his hutch. And then there was the problem of Rr himself.