Mum, can we 'ave a rabbit.......

When I was 9 or 10 I nagged my parents mercilessly for a rabbit. In the end they bought me one for Christmas, the year I was 10. He was a tan and white Dutch rabbit who I called Santa, obviously.

What a superb rabbit he was. He would attack anything that had the temerity to enter his cage, including me when I went to feed him or clean the cage, and he ate toast crusts for breakfast.

He was also long lived for a rabbit, eventually dying just before Christmas, the year I was 16. He didn't die of old age; he had an infected tooth which the vet removed under anaesthetic. Unfortunately, Santa didn't come round afterwards and it was my father's sad task to collect his body for burial. The weekend after he died my then boyfriend, now husband, took me to a garden centre where we bought a white rose bush to plant on the grave.

Thirty nine years later, that rose is still thriving and flourishing and currently has two beautiful blooms on it.

My son and his partner are now contemplating getting a rabbit. Most 55 year old women are looking forward to being a grandma. Not me. No, I just want them to get a rabbit.