Rex Rabbit Care Guide

This guide gives you a working plan for living with a Rex, the mid-sized 2.0-to-2.7-kilogram breed whose plush, upright, velvet-like coat made it famous. The single fact that should shape every care decision is that the same coat you reach out to touch is also the breed's main vulnerability. A recessive mutation shortens the guard hairs to the length of the dense undercoat, so there is no coarse outer layer — and because that short, fine pile extends to the soles of the feet, a Rex has far less protective padding on its hocks than an ordinary-coated rabbit. That makes flooring the headline care job and sore hocks the condition you are managing for life. The coat carries a second twist most owners get wrong: it needs a gentle hand, because over-brushing damages the dense pile, so grooming a Rex is deliberately hands-off rather than vigorous. Temperament is a real strength — Rex are typically calm, intelligent, and people-oriented, often called among the more dog-like rabbits, and they litter-train and learn routines readily. None of that removes the standard rabbit obligations. A Rex is an 8-to-11-year commitment, a prey animal that hides illness, an obligate hay-eater whose continuously growing teeth need a hay-first diet, and an animal that needs hours of daily free-roam, neutering, and a rabbit-savvy exotics vet lined up before a crisis. Note too that the Rex and the smaller Mini Rex are separate breeds sharing the same coat gene, so confirm which one you have. This guide walks through the daily routine, diet, exercise, grooming, health, and real costs so you can protect those feet, respect that coat, and give the breed the long life it is built for.

A Rex's day runs on a short, repeatable routine, and the routine is most of the care. Each morning, top up unlimited grass hay — the single most important thing you do all day — refresh water in a heavy ceramic bowl rather than a sipper bottle, which rabbits drink from more readily, and put down a packed bowl of washed leafy greens. Scoop the litter box; Rex litter-train readily, and a clean box is what keeps the habit. Then spend a couple of minutes watching, because the two things you check every single day are appetite and droppings: a Rex that stops eating or stops passing droppings for 12 hours is a same-day emergency, not a wait-and-see. Build the breed-specific check into the routine — glance at the undersides of the hind feet for redness, hair loss, or scabbing, since the velvet coat leaves those hocks under-padded and pressure sores begin small. While you are at it, resist the urge to fuss over the coat; this breed is groomed deliberately little, and daily handling should be a calm inspection rather than brushing. In the evening, open the enclosure for the main free-roam session, refresh hay again, and confirm the resting surfaces are still soft, dry, and unsoiled. In a prey animal that hides illness, this daily look is how you catch a problem while it is still cheap to fix.

Get the diet right and you prevent most of the health problems in this guide. The proportions matter: roughly 80 percent of what a Rex eats should be unlimited grass hay — timothy, orchard, or meadow — because the long, abrasive chewing it forces is what wears the continuously growing molars down and keeps the gut moving. Hay is the fiber engine of the whole animal, not bedding. On top of that, feed a packed daily bowl of varied leafy greens (romaine, cilantro, parsley, dandelion greens, rotated to avoid excess of any one mineral) and only a measured portion of plain timothy-based pellets — about a third of a cup for an adult of this size, split into two meals rather than left out free-choice. Skip muesli-style mixes entirely, because rabbits selectively eat the sugary bits and leave the fibrous pellet, which drives both dental disease and the weight gain that, in this breed, presses harder on already-vulnerable hocks. Keeping a Rex lean is part of foot care, not just general health. Treats are fruit-sized and occasional, a thin slice of banana or apple and never daily, because sugar disrupts the gut flora that keeps digestion moving. Fresh water must always be available. Alfalfa hay is for kits under about six months and nursing does only; switch adults to grass hay, since alfalfa's calcium and calories cause bladder sludge and obesity in a grown Rex.

A Rex is active and intelligent, bores easily, and suffers genuinely under confinement: a caged rabbit develops obesity, weak bones, sore hocks, and boredom-driven behavior — and in this breed, obesity and sore hocks feed each other. Plan for at least 3 to 4 hours of supervised free-roam every day, with a minimum 3-by-4-foot home-base pen, in a rabbit-proofed room. 'Rabbit-proofed' is literal: cover or block electrical cords, because a chewed cord can electrocute or burn, and remove toxic houseplants and anything you mind being gnawed, since chewing is a need rather than a vice. The breed-specific rule is the surface. Keep the play and rest areas off bare hard floors and slippery tile, and add soft mats, because the under-padded feet are most exposed exactly where the rabbit runs and lands. Lean into the Rex's cleverness with enrichment — tunnels, a digging box of shredded paper or hay, foraging puzzles, and toss-and-chew toys rotated weekly, and many Rex even take to clicker training or a harness. A content, well-exercised Rex 'binkies,' a happy mid-air leap and twist that tells you the enrichment is right, while a rabbit that suddenly stops moving, hunches, or grinds its teeth loudly is signalling that something is wrong.

Grooming a Rex is where most owners overcorrect, because this famous coat asks for less, not more. The dense, short pile mats far less than a wooled coat, and aggressive or frequent brushing actually damages it — so a gentle weekly hand-smoothing or a single pass with a soft brush is usually enough, increasing only modestly during the seasonal molts. Hands-off is the rule, not the exception. Never bathe a rabbit; full immersion terrifies them and can cause fatal shock, and the dense coat is slow to dry, so spot-clean a soiled rear with a damp cloth and fix the dietary cause instead. Use grooming time mainly as inspection rather than coat work: part the fur to check the skin for flaking or thinning and for the fur mites that hide in a dense pile, run your hands over the body for lumps, and — the breed-specific step — turn the rabbit gently to check the soles of the hind feet for the redness or hair loss that warns of early sore hocks. Trim nails every four to six weeks, because overgrown nails change how the rabbit sits and worsen hock pressure, and glance at the front teeth, since misalignment caught early is a hay-and-vet problem rather than surgery.

The Rex's defining health risk follows straight from its coat: sore hocks, or ulcerative pododermatitis, where the short velvety fur on the soles leaves the feet under-padded, so on wire or hard, dirty flooring the hock skin breaks down into painful ulcers. Prevention means solid, soft, dry flooring, weight control, and a weekly check of the hind-foot undersides for redness or hair loss — caught early it is manageable, left to ulcerate it becomes a deep, slow infection. A second coat-linked risk is heat sensitivity, because the dense plush pile traps heat against a body that cannot sweat, so keep indoor temperatures below roughly 26°C/80°F and provide airflow, shade, and frozen water bottles in summer, watching for fast breathing, drooling, or listlessness. The coat also creates a grooming-related risk: over-brushing damages the pile and exposes skin to irritation and fur mites, so groom gently and inspect rather than scrub. Beyond the coat, the universal rabbit conditions apply — GI stasis, where the gut slows or stops and any 12-hour loss of appetite or droppings is a same-day emergency, and uterine cancer in unspayed does over about age three, which makes spaying preventive medicine. Line up an exotics or rabbit-savvy vet before you bring a Rex home, because most general clinics do not treat rabbits and an emergency is the wrong time to search.

The purchase price is the smallest number in rabbit ownership, and treating it as the budget is the classic first-time mistake. A Rex from a reputable breeder or a rescue typically runs 30 to 80 dollars, but the setup costs more: a roomy enclosure or exercise pen, a heavy water bowl, a litter box and rabbit-safe litter, hay racks, and starter toys add up to roughly 150 to 300 dollars before you account for the pens and cord covers to rabbit-proof a room. This breed adds one specific line item — solid, soft resting mats and flooring are the front-line defense against sore hocks, so budget for proper mats rather than relying on a wire cage floor, because here that flooring is medicine, not decoration. Then there is the ongoing bill. Unlimited hay, fresh greens, a small amount of pellets, and litter come to roughly 40 to 70 dollars a month, more for premium hay delivered. The cost that surprises people is veterinary: rabbits need an exotics vet, which means a higher first-visit fee, a one-time spay or neuter usually in the 150 to 400 dollar range that prevents cancer and behavior problems, and an emergency fund, because GI stasis, dental work, or a neglected sore hock can run into the hundreds quickly. Budget realistically and a Rex is an affordable, characterful companion; budget only for the rabbit and the first vet emergency becomes a crisis.