I reckon that the dog and the rabbit are in cahoots

Steve's baby daughter made amazing progress this week, or so his wife thought

STEVE CANAVAN: It was a lot of rattle over just a little roll

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They say different species of animals can’t communicate, but I’m sure that’s not true as my dog and the new member of the family, the rabbit, appear to be in cahoots.

The rabbit was an eighth birthday present for my youngest who has, to her credit, faithfully kept two goldfish alive for several years against all the odds.

During that time my husband’s tropical fish, whose upkeep is handsomely paid for, have died in their shoals.

But the old goldfish in their 99p bowl, with the 99p fish food, have kept on swimming in those endless circles in the best of health.

To get another pet, the challenge to the daughter was to keep her goldfish alive – and boy, has she succeeded.

So the rabbit joined the patio farmyard, alongside the guinea pigs. It’s albino, with glowing fierce red eyes which are designed, to my mind, to intimidate me into thinking it’s either a hungry vampire or the devil’s seed.

It’s fearsome-looking – and I thought rabbits were supposed to be all cute and cuddly. Even though her name’s Fluffy, the only thing that lives up to that is her left ear. The rest of her is a mean, menacing machine.

She’s an escape artist too. I’ve had to jog up the road after her, armed with a towel to fling over her as she slaloms at Usain Bolt’s pace – but wishing I’d had the foresight to put a belt on my overlarge jeans.

In order to get her out from under the car she was definitely planning to hot wire, I had to crawl around on the floor with my bum half-exposed.

You’d think that, knowing her Houdini tendencies, I’d set up some spotlights or watch towers or something, before she enlists the guinea pigs in her great escape from the run.

I thought I’d rely on the dog to be on patrol. But it turns out that, through some telepathic communication, he chose to butt the run with his head until it split, thus aiding and abetting the freedom plan.

I then shut him in the kitchen, where he ate the half-prepped supper off the counter, while I ran around the back garden with the indispensable towel in my hand. They’re in cahoots, I tell you.