I’m starting to think he doesn’t mind being a widower because all he’s done since we brought him inside for winter is find ridiculously awkward and smol places to live the bachelor life.

He’s a mini lop , he likes to flippity flop in his toilet (only after banking all the bedding up to the sides and sometimes over the sides) OR under the bedside table where he makes sure his back hoofs and pressed really tight against the legs of the table.

He never flopped until his girlfriend died in May, after that he had a grand total of one day of mourning (where he lamb chopped on her grave in the garden) and that was it.
Now? He flops all the time and goes into such deep euphoric sleep (he gets a shock when he wakes up and somebody is stroking him)