Shuppiluliuma

Recently, I went to the Spice Bazaar to buy basil seeds at the plant stores. It’s not necessary to venture to Eminönü to buy seeds, but I like the crowds and activity. Since I was near the animals, I decided to have a little bunny therapy. I have a weakness for them. Some people say rabbits don’t have personalities. Some people are very wrong. After watching me play with some pink-eyed, white ones, (I’m not a fan of pink eyes but they were easily accessible) the pet seller dragged me (oh that was tough) into his store. He handed me one little fur ball, then another. I became rather attached to a tiny gray one, about a month old, who sat calmly in my palm. I was tempted, but I have a housemate who has a dog. I sat with the bunny. I had a glass of tea. I made a quick phone call to my housemate to ask if it was alright to bring my new friend home. Twenty minutes later I was on the tram with a new cage, dwarf rabbit food, bedding, and a tiny box full of one tinier dwarf bunny.

Shuppiluliuma (Shuppi for short) is named after a Hittite king. He’s small, so he needs a big name. While he is tiny and growing, he’s very fast. Unfortunately, he’s not exactly stable on his feet. As soon as he gets up a good run and a twisting hop, he loses footing and slides a bit. Rabbits have a behavior that we call “prairie dogging.” They stand on their hind legs and look around at the world. Shuppi exhibits such behavior, but overestimates his abilities. At times, he overextends himself and falls over. Undaunted, he does laps around the apartment, exhibiting a knack for getting into places he shouldn’t. The dog is a bit jealous and very curious, but so far hasn’t done him any harm. Shuppi pays very little attention to her, much to her disappointment. His playtime is, of course, supervised to avoid any mishaps.

Currently, Shuppi’s favorite food is parsley. I’m afraid I may be overfeeding him as his belly has become quite round. I put a vase of greens near his cage. This morning, he had already eaten everything within reach. Raised on his back feet, he succeeded in biting a stem above his head, gave a good tug, and fell over backwards, a bit of parsley clenched firmly in his teeth.

I used to have rabbits when I lived in Philadelphia. Norman Murray Feldshu, a female, non-practicing, Jewish, mini lop lived in the kitchen. She died a few years ago at the ripe old age of seven. Pippo Spano, named after a painting by Andrea del Castagno (a pet’s got to have a good name) a rescued, gray, male, dwarf mix rabbit lived in the living room. He loved Norman. As soon as I let him out of the cage every night he would run to Norman’s cage and deposit little gifts for her. Both of them, frustrated by their unrequited love, made the most unnerving grunts. Pippo was fond of running up the stairs, jumping on the furniture, eating popcorn and my housemate’s Akkadian translations. Recently, I had been thinking about Pippo, who was adopted by friends a few years ago before I went to London. After I brought Shuppi home, I learned that Pippo had died the week before. He too died at the ripe old age of seven. He had a really good life.