The pet I’ll never forget: Tilly, the rabbit who taught us how to raise a family
Tilly wasn’t our first choice: my wife and I had fallen for a grey lop-eared charmer in a local shop who was unexpectedly pulled from sale. But we were now determined to acquire a rabbit, so we traipsed from store to store around south-west London, until we saw this tiny ball of brown and white fluff. Suddenly we could imagine no other bunny. Tilly was many things. When our landlord was around, she was at a friend’s. To the kale producers of Britain, she was a lifeline. To us, she was affectionate, but with a strong sense of personal space – you could tell when she wanted to be touched and when she did not. She was also a menace, gnawing on everything from books to cables and sofa legs. To my family, she was “Bad Tilly” after a weekend stay that left my father’s sofa, skirting board and, somehow, floorboards chewed up. But for eight years – through a pandemic and other personal losses – she was always there, scooting about and poking her …








