Now Playing: High Stress Companions
For High-Stress Companion-Critters, nothing beats Living With Hoomins.
Nothing.
Maman waked up pretty early for her This Morning and came padding out innu the BunRoom not looking so good.
This was not the fault of Alla Us Togedder, you unnerstand. We were being preddy quiet onna'count obba Fakt it was raining outside and still pretty much Looking Like Dark. So we were kind of just sitting there in our habitats, munching hay and not doing ennyfing (not even Dusty) that could be called "loud".
Whut she got woke up by was the Fakt that the gutter thingie outside the Bedroom Window has a clog or sumfing innit and that made the rain-water overflow the sides and go "thunk-thunk-thunk" onna ground instead of flowing quietly through the downspout out onnu the lawn, and the sound Aggryvated her "Mygraine" and made her head hurt - and that's whut Woke Her Up.
And that's Whut I Think - but the main fing to bemember heer, issat: It Was Not Us.
Rabbits, as a species, are Very Low Stress - but Living With Hoomins is Very High Stress, lemme tell you!
So, like, this week has been a Reel Nightmare.
Furst, Maman innerduced us toda concept of Agent. She's a writer (well, she was a musician, furst, but she's a writer now that she can't play the 'cello-thingie ennymore) and this is mostly fine onna'count obba Fakt it issa mostly quiet, nap-enhancing profession. And the last time she went through alla werk of actually publishing ennyfing serious was back in 1987, which is before Our Lore. (She says non-fiction, specialist peery-yodicals doesn't count) - so we didn't know ennyfing about the Care and Feeding of Agents. But Maman felt like she hadda go and get wun.
Whutebber. We were 'dopted, the Catz were 'dopted, and so wassa Dawg. We unnerstand the concept of "Rescue". We didn't unnerstand the concept of "agent" - and now that we do, we have discovered that they are (like udder hoomins) Very High Stress companions!
As far as we can see (which is not much onna'count obba Fakt Agents don't visit once they are rescued) agents exist to have "needs" and Maman exists to fulfill them. The Agent calls and "needs" to have this by then. So Maman sets to werk to get this accomplished by the appointed time. Hokay, and that's nice, and Maman has the required whutebber completed by the desired whenever. But then the Agent calls back and "needs" sumfing else by anudder time. And off Maman goes, grimly hoping to please, again.
Whut we have lerned is that Maman is a lot like certain kinds of Dawgs - she's a Pleaser, anxious to do whutebber it takes to make udders happy.
Which Missy says is Fine-By-Her, so long as it's Our Happiness that's unner consideration heer - and not sum recently-rescued-species-of-agent we've not even met!
And Mouse said he doesn't begrudge anudder companion-critter being rescued, hexcept Maman put him - Mr Mouse - inna BunPen inna SittingRoom to watch Law & Order on his ownliest, which sort of made it seem like she was trying to get away with combining Playtime with his Television-watching-time, and that was - in his opinion - Not On. He didn't get to have His Pillow and she didn't give him his own bowl of RiceChex cereal and what was Worst of All, there was an eppysode on that had that Noo ADA innit, the one who is not Jack McCoy (who is Mr Mouse's hero) and Mouse was forced to watch it onna'count obba Fakt he did not have access to The Remote (which Maman insists is a hoomin-only fing and Mouse doesn't know how to werk ennyways).
Yeah. Talk about High Stress!
So while we kinda unnerstand the Economic Downturn anna need for Maman to (in her werds) "use her head for sumfing udder than a mildly decorative ornament" in order to help keep us in carrots, this whole "writer-gig" seems preddy intrusive frum where we sit - or are trying to sit, onna'count obba Fakt, even sitting is getting pretty pr'carious, right about Now, too - whut with Dadda grabbin' pootie-boxes right out frum unnerneaf of our Nether Regions prak'tickly as soon as we sit down.
I mean, Rilly!
Isn't it bad enuf that Dadda steals our pooties onna reg'lar basis, ennyways? I mean, whut's up with that?
It's getting to the point where I can't even hop innu the pootie-box without carefully looking over my shoulder to make sure sumbunny isn't sneaking up behind me, ready to grab the pan and make a run for the Back Door. Whut if I get carried Out With the Pan? Why is stealing my Smell so important? I werk hard to put that Smell in there and then Dadda comes in and grabs it right out frum unner me!
He says it's "valuable stuff". Yeah, well, I know that! It's My Smell, for crying out loud! Mine!
And he's throwing it out innu the Gardin!
And I know that's whut's happinin', too, onna'count obba Fakt the Dawg told me there's a whole Raised Veggytubble Bed out inna Gardin with a little white fence around it. Dadda yelled at him to "Get Away frum that, you daft Muttley!" and the Dawg was so offended, he came in and complained to me that he wasn't allowed to mark My Smell with His Smell.
And I was, like, "Lookit, you can't put Your Smell on My Smell! That's My Smell!"
Anna Dawg was, like, "But it's in My Gardin, right near where I go On Patrol. I gotta put My Smell on it in order to keep the Wandering Catz away frumma Gardin!"
And I'm, like, "But it's My Smell!"
Anna Dawg is, like, "Yeah, but it's in My Gardin!"
So I'm, like, "Who's fault is that?"
So that's anudder fing that's severely screwed up - Dadda's throwin' My Smell inna Dawg's Gardin and now the Dawg is trying to put His Smell over My Smell.
Yeah. Hoomins! High-stress companions, Lemme tell you!
------------------------------------- By George.
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