Jesus! How Paris has changed since my childhood! I fondly remember accompanying Father to the rabbit presser to have oil squeezed from our bunnies. Oh the squeals they'd make! 100 bunnies rendered seven imperial gallons of top-quality lepus (rabbit) oil. Papa would always relent and allow sister & I to rub rabbit oil on each other's rabbit pouches. What great fun that was! "Well kiddies," he'd say in his grand French manner, "Mama will surely burn your toes off for rubbing each other's throbbing pockets with bunny oil!' We'd all fall down in hysterics at that and then roll into the nearest open sewer and drown.