CAN I have some rabbits, mum, please, please, please? My youngest daughter recently looked after a friend’s two pets and has been nagging me ever since.

“Can I, can, I – I’ll really look after them, you won’t have to do anything, I promise.”

Just like I, no doubt, promised to my parents 40 years ago when, at about her age, I whined daily for a cute little bunny. My wish was granted, but it quickly turned into a nightmare.

My gorgeous New Zealand white seemed lonely so we brought in a companion, Sniffy. My parents are reasonably intelligent people and, having had three children, they obviously know the basics of the birds and bees – but I don’t think they gave such matters a thought when introducing a new, female, rabbit to the hutch.

I remember one morning when my dad was cleaning out the run and came across a heap of baby bunnies. True to the saying, they bred like rabbits, and soon I had more than a dozen.

My parents found homes for some of the broods – at least they claimed to have done. Only last year, much to my horror, my mother confessed that they gave some to the local gamekeeper.

I loved my rabbits, but my pledge to devote time to caring for them wasn’t wholly fulfilled. I soon got sick of mucking out, and more often than not, dad ended up stepping in.

That would definitely happen in my home. Last year my daughters pestered us for their own patch of garden to grow flowers. They tended it for a while, then abandoned it. I spent yesterday prising up the tangle of weeds that now chokes it.

The desire for rabbits may pass. Last summer we looked after two very sweet guinea pigs, and for a few weeks they were top of my daughter’s wish list. We gave it some serious thought, but, felt that having a cat in the house – albeit one who is probably the worst mouser in Europe – was a good enough reason to say no.

And we occasionally look after neighbours’ chickens, which leads to a deluge of requests as to whether they can have hens. I’d love some, but it would be another thing to have to do during the day.

Looking after animals or birds requires commitment, and while I’d love a smallholding crammed with all manner of critters, it just isn’t practical at the moment.

So I’m trying to block out the nagging, and the photos of friends’ rabbits. She will get over it. I just hope no-one asks her to look after their pony.