📅 Tuesday, 18 August 2026 · No. 141

Treat Testing Day (Belle Is Jealous)

🥬 Feeding Notes · ✎ 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 our little apartment in Meknes, and today I ran a small treat tasting for Bambi while Belle supervised with the energy of a queen who had not been consulted. Bambi has dropped two of his old favourites lately, and with his teeth and tummy history I watch every new bite like a hawk. Belle, meanwhile, was not the patient at all, yet she behaved as if the whole afternoon had been scheduled in her honour. So this post is my dual character study of the same hour: the careful nibbler on one side of the rug, and the jealous connoisseur on the other.

Round one: the first offering

Bambi’s side. I set one crunchy piece near his front paws and kept my hands still. He sniffed it twice, turned his head away, then came back for a second opinion. That is his pattern on new things: refuse first, reconsider second, commit third. He took a small corner bite, chewed slowly with his ears half up, and then stopped to look at me as if to say, noted, continue. I wrote down accepted with caution, because with him a first taste is never the full story. I am not a vet, so anything touching his teeth or tummy gets checked with our vet before it becomes routine, and this tasting was only observation, never a new diet.

Belle’s side. Belle watched the entire exchange from two feet away with her chin resting low and her eyes fixed on my hand. The moment I reached for the bag again she stood up, stamped once, and marched over. She did not want the new crunchy piece. She wanted the dandelion root she knows by smell, and she wanted it immediately, as compensation for being ignored. I gave her a small piece of her usual root, and she ate it fast, then looked straight at Bambi’s piece. Finished hers, demanded his: that is the full Belle experience in one sentence.

Round two: the swap that was never a swap

Bambi’s side. I offered Bambi a second piece from the same bag, because one bite tells me nothing about whether he will keep eating it. He took it sooner this time, crunched through half, and then dropped the rest beside his foot. Dropped, not lost: he knew exactly where it was and went back to it a minute later. That stop-start rhythm is normal for him when his mouth is deciding. I noted dropped then returned to, which in my little log sits between yes and no. My morning notes help me keep these patterns straight, and I keep them the same way I described in my morning rabbit routine in Meknes, one small observation at a time.

Belle’s side. Belle interpreted the second offering as a personal insult. She circled my wrist, nudged the bag with her nose, and then sat directly on Bambi’s dropped half like a tiny landlord collecting rent. I moved her gently, returned the piece to Bambi, and handed her another bit of her own root. She crunched it loudly, on purpose, I am convinced, while staring at him. Jealousy in rabbits looks funny from the outside, but living with it means constant diplomacy. Dandelion root diplomacy works every time in this house, and I keep a steady supply for exactly these afternoons.

Round three: the verdict hour

Bambi’s side. An hour later I put one more piece down during his calm window, when the room was quiet and nobody was performing. He ate it fully, washed his face, and flopped halfway against the rug. That flop told me more than the crunching did. A rabbit that settles after tasting is a rabbit that is not bothered, and I take comfort in that body language. I still wrote it all down: treat offered, accepted or dropped, noted. Three rounds, one honest line each. If silence follows a tasting in our house, I assume the treats won and the evening stays boring in the best way.

Belle’s side. Belle finished her root, inspected Bambi’s empty spot twice, and then demanded a final piece for the road. Not because she was hungry. Because the session was ending and she had not authorized the ending. I gave her one last small bit of her usual food and a long head rub, and she ground her teeth softly, which is her version of signing the peace treaty. Greedy buns club: Belle presides, and honestly I would not have it any other way. Her appetite for drama is matched only by her appetite for snacks, and both are part of why I adore her.

What this dual study taught me

Bambi tastes in stages, so I never judge a new treat on the first bite alone.
Belle needs her own parallel snack or the whole session becomes about her.
Quiet retests beat excited first offers for honest answers.
Notes taken same-day are worth ten memories the next morning.

Hand feeding sits at the heart of all of this, because the way each rabbit takes food from my fingers tells me about mood, trust, and teeth in one gesture. I wrote more about those small signals in my hand feeding notes, and this tasting added two fresh lines to that page in my head. Bambi takes gently and pauses. Belle takes fast and audits. Knowing that difference keeps treat time fair, and fairness keeps the peace on the rug.

Tonight both rabbits are stretched out in opposite corners, full, calm, and pretending the afternoon drama never happened. I am still monitoring Bambi the way I always do after a tasting, and still spoiling Belle the way she insists I must. Both bunnies, one diary, zero leftovers. If you run tastings in your own home, keep portions tiny, keep notes honest, and keep your own vet in the loop the way I keep mine. The jealous queen and the careful prince have spoken, and the diary has recorded every crunch.

🐰

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.

← prev / next →The Crime: One Puzzle Piece Missing (Suspect Found)Haircut Day: Mane Off, Moustache Stays