THE RABBITS
Kate sat, twiddling her thumbs. The vet’s surgery was gloomy and small, the blinds drawn to prevent a potential furnace-like atmosphere manifesting from the sun’s strong rays, even though it was only ten in the morning. The rabbits were now in two separate carry cases, each perched precariously on her knees. Wearing her usual ensemble of tracksuit bottoms with an oversized T-shirt, Kate had the added glamour of two fake Louis Vuitton pet carry cases—the local pet store having had a very minimal selection. It had been Louis Vuitton or a rather disgusting orange-coloured case decorated with fluorescent pink flowers. Fake Louis Vuitton winning hands down, Kate was just thankful that nobody she knew would bear witness to her looking such a fright.
Turning her attention dutifully back to her rabbits, Kate hoped the vet spoke English, as her grasp of the Spanish language left a lot to be desired. Having a minute to think about the situation, she realised she didn’t have a clue what the Spanish word was for vasectomy or abortion. Bloody hell . When she didn’t know a word, Kate would act it out; it was the only way she’d succeeded in getting by this long on her minimal Spanish. But given the delicate nature of this particular scenario, this could get embarrassing.
“Buenos días.” Kate glanced up in alarm as the gorgeous god of a vet strode into the small, minimalistic reception room. Shit. I should have worn the white outfit. Kate considered, not anticipating her local vet would be such a tall, dark, incredibly handsome specimen. Kate prayed he spoke English, not relishing the prospect of impersonating two humping rabbits and cutting off balls to this dreamy man. Feeling her cheeks flush scarlet, she blurted out her ever hopeful, “?Hablas Inglés?” Please, please, please let him speak English.
“Muy, muy poco. ?Que les pasa a los conejos?” said the gorgeous, smiling, clearly non-English speaking vet. He stood tall at around six feet, which was unusual, as Kate had noticed that in general, the Spanish men seemed to be shorter and leaner than your average British male. His brown eyes glistened, and his deep olive skin accentuated his penetrating eyes. He wore a white doctor’s coat and his movements were so smooth it was as if he had glided in on skates.
“Es mi conejos.” Kate was thankful that she was able to at least recall the word for rabbits.
“Yo tengo dos.” Yes, she was doing well … she had two rabbits and what else did she want to say? This vet was very yummy. I have two rabbits and one is a boy and one is a girl and they have been humping. Here goes. “Yo tengo dos conejos. Este blanco es un ni?o and el otra es ni?a.” Now for the challenging part. How could she express humping without using the word and without doing the actions? The vet was smirking at her. The bastard. She wagered he knew exactly what she was going to say, but was obviously finding it all highly amusing and certainly not about to help her out.
“Este conejo,” she said, pointing to Floppy; now what was the word for on top? Come on Kate, think, think. Nope, the word eluded her.
“Este conejo y este conejo,” she said pointing to Fluffy and then hesitated. Surely he could work it out? Nope, he was still standing there with his arms crossed, looking amused. Oh fuck it , there was no alternative and who cared anyway if she embarrassed herself, as long as it accomplished the mission and she could cross one top priority action off her to-do list. Kate started gyrating her hips back and forward in a humping motion.
“Ahhhhhh!” The vet laughed out loud. “?No quieres más conejos?”
That’s bloody right , Kate thought. I don’t want any more flaming conejos.
“Do you no want babies?” The vet god spoke. The thought crossed Kate’s mind that she wouldn’t mind trying to have babies with him, and then admonished herself. What the bloody hell was going on? Why was she thinking about sex? Maybe she was having some sort of hormonal imbalance? However, this was neither the time nor the place; she needed to stay focused on the task at hand.
“Yes, I no want baby rabbits, you help me?” Why had her command of the English language suddenly abandoned her?
“No problem,” he said, taking the carry case with Floppy in it and heading off into the back room.
Kate dutifully followed him through a heavily frosted glass door into a cramped room that was monopolised by a large metal table where Floppy now was, placing Fluffy’s case next to the other. Standing back to keep out of his way, she surveyed the small room. The walls were floor-to-ceiling, covered with locked glass cabinets hosting a vast amount of medication and creams. All neatly classified. Not only gorgeous but organised too. A man after her own heart.
“No worry,” he said, directing her towards a grey plastic chair in the corner, which she presumed was an instruction for her to sit and get out of his way. Evidently, he spoke a little English. She was relieved she could ditch her rather dismal and clumsy attempt at communicating with him in his own language.
Kate plopped herself down on the chair, still speaking like a two-year-old trying to make polite conversation. “So what you do?”
“We take rabbit and cut off bollocks,” said the vet matter-of-factly. At first, Kate thought that this was his attempt at being humorous until she looked at his face and saw that he was being deadly serious. She giggled nervously.
“ Se?ora , ‘bollocks’ not good word?” he said, not quite liking that she was now laughing at him.
“No, no, ‘bollocks’ is just fine.” And moving swiftly on. “Y la otro conejo? Possible baby?”
“No, se?ora , too young, conejos solo practise.” I’d like to practise with you , she thought. Arrrrgggghhhh. She didn’t even like sex. What was happening to her? Fabulous news: Fluffy didn’t need an abortion, now she only had to deal with Floppy’s bollock chopping. Could rabbits even have abortions? She wondered, relieved that she didn’t have to attempt to have that embarrassing conversation as well.
“You come later, dos horas, todo ready,” the vet said.
I wish I could come later, Kate thought to herself with a chuckle, thinking for the first time of a different sort of rabbit, ‘The Rabbit.’ The vibrator, which now having witnessed the interactions between Floppy and Fluffy, she knew was most aptly named.
David had bought it for her the previous Christmas and had stupidly placed it under the tree, unaware of the surprise visit from his parents. Kate shuddered at the recollection of opening up the gift. How could he have forgotten to remove it before the present-opening ceremony? Ooohhhh, the embarrassment, the shame.
The vibrator had remained in its box since its purchase, yet with visions of the dreamy vet now planted in her mind, it might be a good time to test it. Kate wondered whether David would play tennis that afternoon, then promptly felt guilty. David had bought the Rabbit for them to play with together, yet each time he’d suggested it, she’d made an excuse.
“Yes, I come back later and get rabbits. Muchas gracias, se?or. ” With that, Kate retrieved the carry case with Fluffy and left the surgery, already excited about the prospect of returning home and test driving her very own electrical rabbit.
* * *
Kate heard the front door slam, signifying David’s departure to his tennis lesson and with enormous trepidation, went rummaging on the top of her wardrobe, where she’d thrust the offending vibrator thing. She wondered whether there would be a clear instruction manual or was she being dense? Perhaps an instruction manual would not be required. Perhaps it was as simple as shove it in, flick the switch and hey presto—orgasm. She hoped it was that simple. With trembling hands, she took the vibrator out of its red velvet-lined box. Fancy packaging. Kate thought, wondering whether David had invested in a deluxe version. She cocked her head to one side quizzically. Bit large, isn’t it? And why is it fluorescent purple? Kate wondered if it might also glow in the dark. Now that would be a great idea , she thought, not relishing trying to find her orgasm in the stark daylight.
Kate kept looking at it with a grimace of disgust. In what way was a big purple penis supposed to turn her on? What did this big purple penis have that David’s lovely soft flesh-coloured-with-a-freckle-on-the-top-penis not have? Why would this penis succeed where no other penis had succeeded before? Kate found herself humming the theme tune to Star Trek. La la la la li la. These are the voyages of The Starship Rabbit. Its five-minute mission to explore strange new worlds. To boldly go where no man has gone before.
She giggled, the humour not lost on her. A visit to the vets and a sudden emergence of a strange, unidentified tingling sensation in her groin had materialised. The next thing she knew she was pulling shut her long white, flowing linen curtains and locking her bedroom door in the middle of the day, whilst humming the theme tune to Star Trek . All while trying to have a rendezvous with a big, purple, plastic penis. Stay focused, Kate, let’s see if we really are dead down there or if there is life after all.
Turning her concentration back to the big purple thing, Kate lay back on her bed, but the sun was now penetrating through the curtains. Getting up again, she decided an extra layer of obscurity would be appropriate and then closed the blackout blinds as well, so the room was pitch black. Shuffling back to the bed, arms waving in front of her to avoid bumping into anything, she again got into position, wiggling out of her tracksuit bottoms and knickers that had once been white but were now a dirty grey. She closed her eyes and positioned the offending item. On the count of three, she decided she’d switch both switches to maximum at the same time, hoping to optimise her chances of the elusive orgasm. She briefly wondered how far she should push it in and then rationalised that she’d had two babies, so she could probably manage to shove it in as far as it could go. With a shove and a count to three, Kate flicked the switches, scrunching her eyes tightly shut in anticipation of ‘the orgasm.’ One … two … three … go.
Nothing happened. Nothing happened at all. She opened one eye, then the other. What was wrong? Why didn’t her Rabbit work? Could she have gotten a faulty Rabbit? Just her bloody luck. Destined to live a life less orgasmic, only to read about it in books and possibly vicariously through Jamie.
Sitting upright, she turned on the ornate bird-shaped bedside lamp reminiscent of origami paper cranes, and inspecting the vibrator further, discovered that underneath the switches was a battery compartment with, of course, no batteries inside. The moment had definitely passed. Chucking the odious object into her bedside drawer, Kate let out a resigned sigh and slipped back into her knickers. The quest for ‘the orgasm’ could be shelved for now, perhaps indefinitely. After all, she thought, there were plenty of other joys in life to explore and conquer. Kate decided to put the ordeal behind her, and abort her search for ‘the orgasm’ until another day, or possibly never.
Feeling utterly defeated, she slumped back onto the plush pillows, pulling the light duvet over her body, cocooning herself in a fortress of comfort. With a determined flick of her fingers, she started scrolling on her phone, ready to embark on a new pursuit of ‘investigations’ into the mysterious realm of tummy tucks and boob lifts. TikTok and Instagram were her usual go-to’s, where recipes and dog videos often dominated her feed, but today, she was on a mission to find something more relevant—a path forward, perhaps, or a sign to guide her through this life-changing decision, to have surgery or not. Deep inside, she wrestled with a whirlwind of emotions. The part of her that loathed her body, yearned for the empowerment of doing something about it, dreaming of the day she could reclaim her confidence and revel in self-love.
She often shared with her daughters a particular passage from The Serenity Prayer: ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.’ This was how she wanted to live her life, and the tummy and the boobs were definitely something she could change. But then there was another part of her that was so fearful of the surgery, and an equally dynamic voice kept nudging her in the direction that she should embrace her body and love herself exactly as she was. So what if she had a bit of sagging skin and a few stretch marks? It wasn’t as if David cared. But then this wasn’t about David; this was about her. She would never put herself through this for a man. The dilemma raged on, and social media didn’t help. There were two camps online, and it was clear she wasn’t going to make a decision based on others; she was going to have to dig deep and figure this one out on her own.
Kate lost track of time as she continued to scroll and flick through feed after feed, until an ad suddenly popped up that caught her attention, entitled: ‘What Turns You On?’
Certainly not the odious purple Rabbit , Kate chuckled to herself.
Slinking lower down into her bed with the screen close to her face, Kate clicked on the ‘Take quiz’ button that would apparently determine her sexual compatibility with her partner, although she doubted there would be any surprises there:
Question 1: How often do you like to have sex? Pick the answer that most corresponds to you, and then do the same afterwards for your partner:
A) Anytime I can get it!
B) Twice a week.
C) On special occasions only.
They should have a D) Only when I have to so I can keep my husband happy. She clicked A for David, and in the absence of a D, selected C for herself.
Immersed in her quiz, Kate didn’t hear the door open at first and jumped with a start when she realised David had entered the room and was standing at the end of the bed. Clutching the phone to her chest closer than a Cadbury Creme Egg, she asked, “Didn’t you play tennis?” Trying to act nonchalant.
“Yes, but only one set; it started to rain,” he answered, looking puzzled. “What are you doing in bed in the middle of the day? And why are you cuddling your phone?”
Kate was relieved that he hadn’t walked in whilst she was fiddling with the Rabbit. “It’s raining? That’s so weird; it was so sunny before.” Deflect, deflect. If David caught her doing a sex quiz he’d definitely see that as an invitation to rip off all his clothes and jump her.
“Well, that’s Mallorca, isn’t it. You’d have known if the curtains weren’t shut. What are you doing by the way?” he asked, perching on the side of the bed and bent down to kiss her on the lips, taking a peek at her phone. He looked surprised. “You’re doing a sex quiz?”
Busted! “I was just researching this tummy tuck and boob lift. I don’t know what to do about it and then I actually came across a sexual compatibility test, and I just started.”
His face transformed like a Halloween pumpkin, its grin stretching from ear to ear.
“And you need to do this with the curtains closed and in bed because …?” he chortled.
Not waiting for an answer, David manoeuvred himself into the bed next to Kate. Both fully clothed snuggled under the light duvet, as Kate read the next question to him:
“Question 2: What’s your favourite place to have sex?
A) The bedroom obviously!
B) Anywhere and everywhere!
C) Public toilets!”
“I’m a definite B,” David said without a smidgen of hesitation. Kate shuddered at the thought of anywhere public, let alone toilets, and once again thought that there should be a D) Too tired to have any sex, would rather not. But settled for A. David started to read the next question but Kate stopped him, placing her phone firmly down on the bedside table.
“This is a stupid quiz. We both know that we’re not going to answer any of them the same.”
David seemed disappointed, but he knew as much himself. “Did you get anywhere with the to do or not to do the tummy tuck dilemma then?”
“No, honestly. I didn’t. I was hoping I would but now I’m even more confused than ever. Let’s not talk about it. This cuddling is nice.” She snuggled further into him so that his chin was resting on the top of her head.
“Kate, you are just so deliciously weird and wonderful. I love you. I truly do, and I just want you to be happy. I don’t see what I think you see. I see a beautiful, sexy woman who is the mother of my children, who makes me laugh every day even when she doesn’t mean to, who walks with me by my side to make life easier and … who I can’t keep my hands off!”
David’s word of reassurance fell on deaf ears. All Kate could focus on were those last few words: ‘who I can’t keep my hands off,’ and visions of David initiating daytime sex popped into her mind. Whilst she recognised he might also just be enjoying a beautiful intimate moment, history had taught Kate that any moment had the potential to be a sexual one for David. Quicker than a wild hog escaping a lion, she leapt off the bed in record time, yelling, “Fluffy, Fluffy, I forgot to feed Fluffy. Sorry darling, laundry to do, lunches to make, rabbit to feed … ”
“Maybe we can finish this quiz later then, together?” David called out to Kate’s fast receding back, but Kate had escaped.