Normally, a chair two inches out of place is enough to freeze Mickey or Bailey in their tracks until they're convinced it hasn't morphed into a dangerous predator, but somehow a state of total chaos - like a house turned upside down in preparation for a move - is a special kind of wonderland for inquisitive bunnies. Of course, I'm always happy to see the kids so excited and active, especially Mickey, who's turning into a bit of a couch potato. But I could do without the constant "supervision" and chewing holes in the bottom of my boxes.
As moving day crept closer, the bunnies' curiosity and excitement grew, but I was a nervous wreck worrying about how they'd take the final day when the movers arrived to take away all their nice new boxes, and all their toys and furniture disappeared--not to mention being "coaxed" into their carrier and transported to a strange place. Here Mickey was just feeling comfortable enough as "king of the house" to explore all three floors. And Bailey, who'd only been with us for about four months, was still pretty edgy when her quiet routine was disturbed.
On the big day, the movers were efficient and quick, despite my unorthodox packing methods, and they were accommodating enough to work around the bunnies, opening the door to their room just long enough to move out everything they were supposed to move and leaving everything else intact. That tactic worked pretty well until the movers were gone and I had to actually pack up the bunnies personal possessions and lure them into their carrier.
When their bed, cage, and favorite hideouts disappeared, panic finally set in, and it took me nearly half an hour of frantic maneuvering in a dark room with nothing but a couple of strategically placed trash bags to help me corner the bunnies to get them into the carrier. I managed to survive the whole thing with a few minor scratches and a fat lip from Mickey's flailing back feet during a futile attempt to catch him and place him in the carrier by brute force.
After that disaster, the two little refugees were in no mood to forgive me when I released them in an empty room in a strange house with only a few of their possessions and some veggies, rabbit pellets and cheerios (their favorite treat) to comfort them, while noisy strangers tromped through the place all day. Even a house full of cardboard boxes to be chewed and explored wasn't enough to lure them out of their quiet room in the attic to join in the fun.
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