From Baidu to Worse: Scary Advice on Rabbits
"Some are born great, some have greatness thrust upon them," according to William Shakespeare. Profound.
Sadly, it was't greatness that was thrust upon me but an unwanted rodent, and I was given little choice but to accept my fate and wear my crown as food-giver to a furry nation of one.
As pets go, he's not a bad little fella: A cute, white rabbit with the face of an angel and the appetite of a bulldog. But that's not my gripe. My problem is I have no idea how to look after him. (Case in point: I can only presume it's a he.)
The story of how this little fellow came to set up home at Casa McIntosh (he's taken over my balcony) is a disturbing and, I fear, not unique one in this or any other country. An unwanted birthday gift, he was about to be released back into the wild of downtown Beijing to fend for himself when my girlfriend intervened.
Having a head as soft as my girlfriend's heart, I agreed to take him in, on condition she agreed to follow him around my flat at all times with a dustpan and brush.
For the first few weeks, we cooed over this animal like he was a newborn child. And when we went looking for advice on how to make sure he's developing normally and on how to give him the best care possible, we turned initially to the wisdom offered on Chinese online forums.
We were not quite prepared for what we found, which was as hilarious as it was disturbing.
One guy on "ask Baidu" asked: "My rabbit gets too hot in the summer. What can I do?" The top reply, which most of you can probably guess, went something like "try using less chili in the hotpot".
Another concerned pet lover mused: "My rabbit has very warm ears, should I put him in the refrigerator for a while?"
"Can rabbits eat snacks?" asked another. "My classmate's rabbit eats everything. Someone fed it candy and chips and now its fur keeps dropping off. My classmate even kissed it. Does it have a disease?"
As though that did not make me shudder enough, that last post sparked the reply: "My rabbit eats porridge and buns with me every morning. He seems to be okay, except for the odd bout of hiccups?"
One desperate schoolboy begged: "How can I get rid of my rabbit's smell? My mother threatened to throw it out of my window. We live on the sixth floor."
Another pondered: "My friend took his rabbit into the shower with him and it died. I got mine wet by accident one time, but he didn't die. Who can tell me, do rabbits need a shower? And if so, how do you stop them from dying during one?"
And I could not help feeling for the chap who wrote: "My rabbit died, what can I do?" I felt sympathy for his loss and also for the fact that, of the answers he received, more than 50 percent suggested "knocking up a hotpot," followed by "bury it" and "take a specimen of DNA in case you can clone him in the future".
The respondent who wrote "burn it, put the ashes in a bag and hang it around your neck to ward off evil spirits," probably should not be giving advice to others as I fear they have bigger problems of their own.
Needless to say, my girlfriend and I have decided to rely on our own counsel when it comes to feeding him, and we've already exploited my favorite website Taobao for a water bottle and a block of unidentifiable hard stuff for him to keep his teeth short.
I'm hoping the latter arrives before he's nibbled through all my slippers and the telephone wire.
This is a revised version of a story published in the China Daily's 'Hotpot' column on July 1, 2009.
Sadly, it was't greatness that was thrust upon me but an unwanted rodent, and I was given little choice but to accept my fate and wear my crown as food-giver to a furry nation of one.
As pets go, he's not a bad little fella: A cute, white rabbit with the face of an angel and the appetite of a bulldog. But that's not my gripe. My problem is I have no idea how to look after him. (Case in point: I can only presume it's a he.)
The story of how this little fellow came to set up home at Casa McIntosh (he's taken over my balcony) is a disturbing and, I fear, not unique one in this or any other country. An unwanted birthday gift, he was about to be released back into the wild of downtown Beijing to fend for himself when my girlfriend intervened.
Having a head as soft as my girlfriend's heart, I agreed to take him in, on condition she agreed to follow him around my flat at all times with a dustpan and brush.
For the first few weeks, we cooed over this animal like he was a newborn child. And when we went looking for advice on how to make sure he's developing normally and on how to give him the best care possible, we turned initially to the wisdom offered on Chinese online forums.
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We were not quite prepared for what we found, which was as hilarious as it was disturbing.
One guy on "ask Baidu" asked: "My rabbit gets too hot in the summer. What can I do?" The top reply, which most of you can probably guess, went something like "try using less chili in the hotpot".
Another concerned pet lover mused: "My rabbit has very warm ears, should I put him in the refrigerator for a while?"
"Can rabbits eat snacks?" asked another. "My classmate's rabbit eats everything. Someone fed it candy and chips and now its fur keeps dropping off. My classmate even kissed it. Does it have a disease?"
As though that did not make me shudder enough, that last post sparked the reply: "My rabbit eats porridge and buns with me every morning. He seems to be okay, except for the odd bout of hiccups?"
One desperate schoolboy begged: "How can I get rid of my rabbit's smell? My mother threatened to throw it out of my window. We live on the sixth floor."
Another pondered: "My friend took his rabbit into the shower with him and it died. I got mine wet by accident one time, but he didn't die. Who can tell me, do rabbits need a shower? And if so, how do you stop them from dying during one?"
And I could not help feeling for the chap who wrote: "My rabbit died, what can I do?" I felt sympathy for his loss and also for the fact that, of the answers he received, more than 50 percent suggested "knocking up a hotpot," followed by "bury it" and "take a specimen of DNA in case you can clone him in the future".
The respondent who wrote "burn it, put the ashes in a bag and hang it around your neck to ward off evil spirits," probably should not be giving advice to others as I fear they have bigger problems of their own.
Needless to say, my girlfriend and I have decided to rely on our own counsel when it comes to feeding him, and we've already exploited my favorite website Taobao for a water bottle and a block of unidentifiable hard stuff for him to keep his teeth short.
I'm hoping the latter arrives before he's nibbled through all my slippers and the telephone wire.
This is a revised version of a story published in the China Daily's 'Hotpot' column on July 1, 2009.
