I had some guests to stay last week.

I didn’t know them very well, so I had no real idea what to expect. But everything went smoothly. They didn’t make a noise, and largely kept to themselves. They were strictly vegetarian, so not particularly difficult to cater for.

They also left droppings everywhere.

This would be rather rude for humans, but fortunately is entirely to be expected of rabbits, which is why a special rug was put down underneath their hutch area, to make sure the carpet was kept clean.

I was slightly nervous about the prospect of taking care of two bunnies by myself for a few days. Because I’d never looked after animals before.

Growing up in Golders Green, one discovers certain differences between the heart of the Jewish community and many other parts of London. In Golders Green, for example, most shops are closed on Shabbat but open on Christmas. Parking restrictions, especially those concerning double parking, are considered less of a rule and more of a general guideline.

And there are far fewer pets. The more frum you are, the less likely you are to have pets.

There are some exceptions, of course. Some Charedi families might have goldfish, I grant you. Maybe even a hamster or a gerbil. But come to Stamford Hill or Golders Green, and you’ll find a Jewish community almost entirely devoid of dogs, cats and most other pets. The only furry creatures you’ll find are those that have long since departed this vale of tears and now have their pelts adorning shtreimels.

Growing up, our house was no different, although I think that was less to do with our religious level (no shtreimlach present) and more about the fact that options were limited. One member of the family had a fear of dogs. Another hated birds. A third was allergic to cats.

And so my exposure to animals was limited to occasional trips to farms, zoos or safaris (both the small English replicas and the real South African kind.)

But all that changed last week. The owner of two bunnies (or their human, as I shall instead call her) had to go away for a few days, and got in touch — was I willing to look after them? In a moment of supreme and entirely unwarranted over-confidence, I said yes.

The rabbits arrived on Sunday and left on Thursday (transported by their human, of course, it’s not like there was a knock at the door and two rabbits doffed their caps). Once I had got past my original delight — I believe the exact phrase I used was “Oh my God, look at the floofy shmoofers” — we settled into a routine.

Their real names cannot be revealed for privacy reasons, but I can tell you that I gave them Jewish names. So the larger, boy rabbit, is now Challah, while the smaller girl rabbit is Kneidel, being as round and fluffy as her namesake (although much furrier).

All of a sudden, I felt my very own Inner Jewish Mother, previously undisturbed, kick in. Rabbits primarily eat hay. But were they getting enough hay? I made sure their hay supply was high before I left for work, and that their water was readily available — and had to structure my evenings differently, to be sure to get home at a reasonable hour to give them “dinner”. As they eagerly chomped down their morning vegetables, it was all I could do not to croon “ess, ess mein Kinder”. It was slightly scary.

But it was also a lesson in Jewish law which I hadn’t previously had to think about. If I was hungry and about to prepare a meal for myself, I had to remember to check whether the rabbits were peckish too. After all, it’s a halachic requirement to feed one’s animals before oneself.

As lovely as the experience was, I don’t think I’ll be getting pets of my own any time soon — I’m still working out how to look after myself, let alone care full-time for other living creatures. But, hopefully, this, in however small a way, will be helpful experience for the future… although, please God, if I have children, I won’t name them after kosher foodstuffs.