📅 Tuesday, 28 July 2026 · No. 123

Kidnapped by a Crazy Lady: Now She Is Queen

🌿 Daily Logs · ✎ 5 min · by Azmi in Meknes

Azmi's note My personal log from Meknes, not vet advice. Just what I did and saw tonight.

I am Azmi, writing from Meknes, and I need to confess something to the diary: I was kidnapped by a rabbit, and I am not seeking rescue. It started as a joke I told friends, that a small suspicious creature had moved into my home and taken over my schedule, my floor space, and my heart. Update: she decided to stay. Update two: she is Queen Phoebe now, with the cutest cheeks in the realm. What follows is the royal transition told as three short letters, one per stage, because a normal log entry cannot contain the dignity of this particular takeover.

Letter one: day one, to the suspicious newcomer

Dear wary one, you arrived with your ears up and your eyes wide, suspicious of everything: the rug texture, the hallway echo, the sound of my slippers, the very air of this flat. You chose the farthest corner and sat there like a tiny ambassador refusing talks. I sat on the floor at a respectful distance and read aloud so you could learn my voice without any demands attached. You did not approach. You did not flop. You watched me the way a queen watches a stranger who has wandered into the wrong courtyard. I ended that first evening by placing the evening greens halfway between us and leaving the room, which felt like paying tribute. In the morning they were gone. Negotiations had quietly begun. Those early careful days match what I later wrote in my trust diary from the first weeks, where every approach was measured in centimeters and every retreat respected without chase.

Letter two: day seven, to the almost-queen

Dear almost-queen, one week in and the ice is cracking. You now allow the crazy lady, that is me, to sit nearby while you eat. You take a treat and retreat, then take the next one from half a step closer. Yesterday you sniffed my knee and pretended it never happened. Today you sniffed my hand twice and stayed for the second sniff, which in rabbit diplomacy counts as a signed treaty. Your cheeks have started to round out as you settle, and I catch myself staring at them during meetings I should be paying attention to. The flat has reorganized itself around you without any formal announcement. The blanket lives where you left it. The tunnel stays where you dropped it. My morning routine bends around your breakfast timing. Nobody voted. The crown simply appeared. Starting to like me? The truth is you started to like me first and I just caught up, Your Majesty indeed.

Letter three: day fourteen, to Queen Phoebe

Dear Queen Phoebe, queendom declared. Day fourteen and you rule openly now. You request pets by lowering your head between my hands. You end petting sessions by walking away mid-stroke with your tail up, which I have learned to accept as royal prerogative rather than rejection. Your cheeks are supreme, full and soft, the defining feature of the realm, photographed daily from your best side, which is every side. The crazy lady title you gave me, well, the one I gave myself on your behalf, has stuck. Friends ask after the crazy lady and her queen, and I answer to it proudly. You permit the nickname. Barely. Usually with a slow blink that could mean affection or could mean you are tolerating your staff. I choose to read it as affection, and the diary agrees with me.

What the kidnapping taught the staff

Being kidnapped, it turns out, is mostly about learning to serve well. I learned to move slowly through rooms instead of striding. I learned to announce myself with a soft voice before entering her sightline. I learned that head nudges are correspondence, not accidents, and I keep a whole separate record of them in my head nudges and cuddles log, because each nudge carries a slightly different message. A hard nudge means move your hand here. A soft nudge means hello, carry on. A nudge followed by a flop means you may proceed with petting until dismissed. Fluency took weeks, and I am still a student. The queen is a patient teacher with a strict grading curve.

I also learned that trust arrives in small physical firsts. The first time she groomed her own ears in my presence instead of waiting for me to leave. The first time she flopped with her back to me, which looks like rudeness and means complete confidence. The first time she chose the spot beside my leg over the spot across the room. None of these moments photograph dramatically, but each one felt enormous from floor level. Day one she was suspicious of everything. Day seven she allowed the crazy lady nearby. Day fourteen the queendom was declared and the cheeks were supreme. That three-line timeline is the whole story, and I reread it whenever a friend asks why I look tired and happy in equal measure.

Royal household rules, as understood by staff

The queen chooses the seating. Staff sits where directed by nose placement.
Treats are tribute and must be offered with an open palm and zero grabbing.
Petting sessions open and close at royal discretion. Staff hands remain available.
Cheeks may be admired aloud at any hour. The queen pretends not to hear and clearly does.
The title of crazy lady is a badge of honor, granted by the crown, non-transferable.

So here is my closing confession from Meknes, signed willingly. Yes, I was kidnapped by a crazy situation of my own choosing, and yes, she is queen now. Crazy lady appreciates being called crazy, and the queen permits it, barely, with one ear up. If a small suspicious rabbit ever takes over your flat, my advice is to surrender early and surrender gracefully. Sit on the floor. Offer the greens. Learn the nudge language. Within two weeks you will be staff in the happiest little monarchy on the street, serving a queen with the cutest cheeks in the realm, and you will not want it any other way.

🐰

Written by Azmi

I track my rabbits' diet, weight and naps to see what works. Photos are mine, mess included. Say hi on the contact page.

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