My Friday Weigh-In: What a Round Bunny Looks Like on the Scale
Tonight I put my bunny on the kitchen scale, same spot, same bowl on top. The number surprised me a little, so I wrote it down with the date and took two photos: one from above, one from the side. This post is the story of that weigh-in, the worry, the photos, the vet visit a week later, and what roundness turned out to mean in my house. Personal story only, not health advice. Round does not always mean a problem, and thin does not always mean healthy. Only my vet decides that. I just track so I can spot changes early.
The Friday weigh-in: what I saw
Same ritual as always: carrier on the scale, tare, bunny in, read, out. But that evening the top photo stopped me, from above she looked like a perfect circle, a furry dinner plate with ears. Side photo: same roundness, belly low. My stomach dropped a little. Had I been overfeeding? The greens log said normal. The hay tally said normal. Still, round. I logged three lines instead of one that night: weight + date in my sheet, one photo from above, one from the side, one line, ate well, drank well, poops normal. Then I did the thing the notebook cover orders: no interpretation at home. Worry written down, vet called Monday.
A week later: the vet visit
The vet weighed her at two point three six kilos and called it ideal for her type, so the roundness is mostly angles and fluff. Her words, my relief: the top-down circle is fur plus a wide sitting stance; the side round is winter coat plus a full hay belly at 18:00. She showed me the real checks, ribs felt not seen, spine with cover, movement easy, and sent me home with one instruction: keep logging monthly. The grumpy second photo stays in the diary as my reminder of the grumpy face: flattened ears in the carrier, offended eyes, the exact look she gave the stethoscope. I laughed all the way home.
What roundness means in my photos now
Since that visit I read my top photos differently. Angle one: camera height changes everything, chest-height photos round her, floor-level photos lengthen her; same bunny, two shapes, so the floor mark for my feet matters as much as the scale. Fluff factor two: shedding-week photos look 10% rounder (I measured pixel widths once, for fun, then stopped, some data stays a joke). Time-of-day factor three: pre-dinner photos at 17:00 read slimmer than post-hay 19:00 shots. My monthly log now standardizes all three: same tile, same 18:00 hour, same camera height, both photos every time. I still log the number monthly. Round photos keep coming, she is a round-sitting bunny, but now each round photo sits next to a weight line and a vet’s word, and the trio says calm. That is what a log is for: turning a scare into a system. Photos on this page were taken by me. Not vet advice, my scare, my vet, my sheet.
Reading roundness: my three-factor photo guide
Factor one, camera height: I proved it to myself with a same-evening test, chest-height top shot (round plate), floor-level side shot (long loaf), same bunny ten minutes apart. Now the floor mark: left foot on the tile dot for top shots, kneeling for sides, both taped positions. Factor two, fluff: shedding-week top views run visibly wider; my pixel-width joke measured 8% wider mid-shed versus post-brush, same weight both days. So top photos get a coat letter now: F for fluffy, S for sleek. Factor three, mealtime: 17:00 pre-hay versus 19:00 post-hay top shots differ like before-and-after dinner portraits, both true, neither alarming. Standardized monthly log: same tile, 18:00 hour, chest height, both angles, coat letter, one behavior line. Six months of that and the sheet reads like a calm sea with one remembered wave, the Friday that started this post. The scare paid for the system; the system prevents the next scare. Round bunny, flat line, grumpy photo framed. That is the whole story, and the scale stays in its tile.
Epilogue in three lines from last Friday: weight steady, photos both angles, coat letter S. The round bunny sat roundly on the scale and read exactly as expected. No surprise, no scare, the system’s quiet dividend. Monthly, same tile, same hour, both photos, one line. The grumpy grumpy-face print hangs inside the notebook as a mascot of proportion: worry once, verify properly, then trust the flat line. Round is a shape; the sheet is the story.
Method card for anyone starting a weigh log: same tile marked, same hour kept, carrier tared with blanket inside, two photos always, behavior line always, vet number on the sheet. My card lives in the notebook’s front pocket, edges soft with use. The round bunny approves of none of this and cooperates fully, dignity intact, treats accepted after.
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