Years ago I used to keep a rabbit. Actually I had three, serially, and all called Albert. White, Netherland Dwarfs with sticky-up ears. Just the right size for hiding in a top hat at little Johnny's 5th birthday party on a Saturday afternoon. Yes I know it's sad, but that's what I did.
Anyway, I made him (and Charley Farley and Archibald the Grim, his erstwhile lodgers) a hutch. I didn't make a separate bedroom area, but I did put in a cardboard box, just big enough for them to snuggle up inside. It was often a 6-bottles-of-wine box IIRC. It got uninhabitably soggy (hope you aren't eating your dinner at the moment), so it was replaced every week or two, but the first thing they did when I put in a new one was to chew a hole in the back of it. Like a back door. What's all that about then? Escape route?
Shall we all try the magic words now then? Stretch out your arms, wave your hands and wiggle your fingers and say:
"Wiggley-woo, wiggley-woo, wiggley, wiggley, woo!. Ooooohh!!!!!!!!!!"
Don't you feel better now?
Cheers
Steve