Jinx arrived one late afternoon when I was about six years old. My dad had been out on the streets of Balsall Heath and my mom was worried. Some time later we heard him come through the front door and shout, "Come and see who I've brought home!". My mom's immediate reaction was to complain that she didn't want any of his 'friends' round. But when dad came into the living room he wasn't with one of his less than pleasant pals; he was holding a little grey rabbit. Jinx, it seemed, was a runaway. He was not quite a domestic bunny, but he was far too tiny to be a fully grown hare. He had been spotted by my papa sitting under a parked car in the middle of the road licking a discarded green ice-cream. My dad had pleaded and chased and crawled about to try and catch the little runt, but Jinxy was enjoying himelf far too much to give in. So for a good hour or so they played a game of hide and seek, until little Jinx became bored and then smugly decided to hop over to my dad and jump into his lap.
And that was that. Jinx was dad's new best friend and he was here to stay. I loved Jinx; although lethal, he was always gentle with me. He would sit in my dad's lap for hours (leaving the delightful gift of fifty or so rabbit droppings as a reminder of his presence). Jinx was cool. He fought our many cats and became the head of the pack. As far as he was concerned, he was one of them. On occasion he would violate the female cats and if they ever had kittens (which he always assumed were his offspring), he would groom them and carry them around on his back. Jinx liked cat food and his favourite toy as a large metal pole which was wider than the door frame. He would relish holding the pole in between his teeth and barging, full force, into the door frame. A soon as he'd recovered from the blow of bouncing back and flying into the air, he'd start all over again until he was too dizzy to stand.
Jinx was tough. No cat could get the better of him and he terrified men, women and children alike. One day the men from British Gas came to switch off our meter after the bills weren't paid, but Jinx pulled his lips back to bare his teeth, snarled and attacked them. Aside from such chivalry, my mother & Jinx did not get along. He took delight in destroying her underwear - no knickers were safe from the mighty and slightly insane Jinx; every gusset was to be torn and chewed through. He would attack her in the kitchen, her only defense being a large broom that she would sweep him away with. However, this line of defense was often to no avail as Jinx would simply attack the broom and chew it up until it became jut another stick for him to chase people with.
The day Jinx saw his reflection for the first time was both tragic and moving. My dad had been working in an antiques shop at the time, and had brought home a floor-length wooden mirror for my mom. Jinx, king of the castle and ruler of the pack, believed himself to look like all of our other pets; a sleek, smooth, black cat. When he witnessed the short, squatting, long-eared, big-footed, buck-toothed, grey hybrid of a hare and a bunny he did a double-take. He was visibly shaken and sat staring at his reflection for the longest time. Poor Jixy rabbit. Imagine the shock!As the man of the mogs he soon recovered, but always avoided this reflection after that.
Jinx was always on the run. Every other day a knock would come at our door with the face of a very perplexed individual on the other side of it.
"Do you own a little grey rabbit with a white tummy?"
"Yes"
"Well can you come and get him 'cos he's down in our warehouse and the lads are frightened of him."
And Jinx would return, usually covered in oil and ready for some cat biscuits and a nice long nap.
When he grew up Jinx experienced love with a large, ginger bunny called Clara Trixy Bell. Clara was not a well rabbit when we gave her a home, and she was not the least bit like Jinx. Clara had no obvious identity crisis. She liked to eat rabbit food and she avoided the cats. She was twice the size of Jinx and had large, floppy ears and long fur which hid her face. She would dig continuously in the garden whilst Jinx merely looked on in bemusement. But Jinxy had found his soul mate; a cat that looked like him. Before long Clara had a litter - at last some babies to nurse which actually belonged to Jinx and looked like him. Jinx made a wonderful father for a short period of time. But tragedy soon truck. Clara, the mad hole-digging bunny, killed her babies in the night and then died shortly afterwards.
Jinx lived to be a very old rabbit. He has lived with us for six years when he eventually died. He fell asleep on his balcony in our flat in Pool Farm and never woke up again. I heard my dad cry when he found him. My mother sobbed and didn't want any new pants. We cherished his metal pole until we left that place. We tried to get other rabbits to ease the loss. But Jinx wasn't a rabbit, he was a beautiful hybrid. A rabbit who thought he was a cat who was actually more like a Rottweiler. Jinxy rabbit saved the day, ate the knickers and raped the cats. He was a bunny, but he had soul.
