I am in control of my appetites

Bunny’s claim that he is in control of his appetites is a sudden declaration of mastery, prompted by discarding Poodle’s gift. The exhilaration it brings is real but momentary, making the phrase less a settled account of lasting change than a glimpse of Bunny briefly experiencing himself as virtuous and in command.

The Declaration and Its Trigger

Bunny has just called Poodle a bloody idiot and crumpled up the gift Poodle gave him, casting it aside. He barely registers Bunny Junior’s question about what they will do next: instead, the small act of rejection unexpectedly fills him with the belief that he controls his life. He experiences an unprecedented feeling of virtuousness and a wave of euphoria, then quietly tells himself that he is in control of his appetites.

A Moment of Uncertain Control

The declaration arrives alongside a bodily rush of feeling, which Bunny experiences as a cup of love in his bowels. He turns left at Adelaide Crescent and heads toward the sea, carrying this newly felt confidence into the landscape. The intensity of the moment matters, but so does its limit: the narration describes a momentary wave of euphoria, not evidence that Bunny has permanently mastered his appetites.

The Father and Son in the Gardens

Bunny Junior answers that he, too, is in control of his appetites. The pair then pass the Regency terraces and silently watch a father toss a Frisbee to his young son in the public gardens while the boy’s mother spreads a tartan rug and bends over a wicker picnic basket. Bunny’s brief thought, Ouch, punctures the confidence of his declaration with an ache at the sight of family life. The exchange thus places his claim beside both his son’s echo and an image of parental intimacy, leaving control bound up with a fragile moment of hope rather than a resolved transformation.