Day Nine / First Strand
Whut's dis? Hmmmm... Da 'Puter is "ON".

H-U-N-N-Y

Dis is me.

*ponder*

Belinda issn't heer rite now. She is upstairs asleep. I kin heer her snorin. Makes a sorta buzzy sound when she's snorin' ...bzzzz... buzzzz... buzzzz... She duzzn't know I'm highjackin her blog dis aftanoon...

*stop, ponder*

Well, she's not usin da blog, an it's goin to waste. Besides, tiday is her day "OFF". She's "OFF". I'm "ON".

*bunnychuckle, subsides, ponder; trundle to water-crock*

Poet gibs me too many bafs. I'll tell you dat for nuffin.

*drink, dribble*

Whut's a bunny to do?

*drink, dribble, ponder, dribble*

I'm too old for dis ....

*snort, sneeze*

Oops, shubbed my hed in a liddle far dat time...
Can't see where da wadder starts anna bowl ends... godda cattyract inna eye, Maman sed... she taked me toda V-E-T 'boud id... it's cos I'm berry owd da V-E-T sed... oops, godda my ear innit, waid...

*shake>*

Dat's bedder... huh?...oh, Sorry Missy...

*trundle*

Darn. Wadder on my feets... hmmm...

*track, track*

Waid a minit, godda siddown an gedda paw up here an wick da wadder off...check my butt...

*grunt*

Washa face a widdle... dere... whut?... Shaddup, Belinda!

*pause, listen*

Iz she wakin up? Darn... humph, mebbe not...

*shake, fluff, trundle, trundle, trip*

Who weft my cup dere?...

*throw, toss*

Hokay, fixed dat... so I wuz goin toward da pootie-box wassn' I? No, da 'puter... Dis is Belinda's day "OFF". Me, Hunny's day "ON".

*stop, ponder, peer*

...oh, hullo, Poet... you're glarin... whut'sa'madder? Uh-oh... wet me fink...

Oh no, not my ears!

*skitter, pootie, RUN ---------->

Day Eight / First Strand
Id issa middul ob Wintur, I fink. At weast id is berry cold outside. I know dis cossa Dadda comed in heer an sed it wuz. Da Dadda allus tells us da troof aboud stuff. Dis is why he issa Dadda.

Ebbery two or free days, Dadda an Maman come inna Bun Room an collect alla pooties frum our witter-boxes. Now nine bunnies can make a wotta pooties. Dadda says dat we ara most efficient conberters ob hay inno pooties dat he has ebber seen, an dis incloods cows. Which must be preddy good, cos Dadda has seen a wotta cows before he came ober heer to lib wif us. Dey must habba wotta cows in Inkland.

At furst, I didn unnerstand whut he an Maman wanted wif alla pooties. I mean, wet's be wogical aboud dis: before I libbed inna shelter, I libbed sumpwace else an dat hoomin dat I wuz libbin wif wasn't inno pootie collectin. Den I went to lib atta shelter wif Auntie Laura. Now dere wassa wady who was inno pootie collectin. She collected dem alla time, just wike Maman an Dadda do. Gibba bunny a witter-pan, pud nice witter innit, waid a day or two, den dump da witter pan inna bag an we stawt da whole fing ober again. If you axt me, da whole system seems preddy pointwess, bud hoomins seem fond ob it.

Well, ennyway, Maman an Dadda 'dopted Hawthorn. Hawthorn wassa widdle white Holland Lop bunny wif bloo eyes who was mostwy deaf (which means he couldn't heer). It's not unusuhal for widdle white bunnies wif bloo eyes to be deaf, but it was hokay, cos he wassa berry smawt, berry cute widdle guy an I lubbed him as soon as I saw him. We moobed in togedder an bonded. Bunnies bond for life, bedder denna wotta hoomins, an, wike hoomins, sum bonds are bedder den udders. Hawthorn an I hadda rilly good bond, da bestest kind, for his whole widdle wife, until he went toda Bridge. I still miss him, you know.

Bud wike I sed, Hawthorn was berry smawt. He watched Maman an Daddy do dis pootie-box fing a coupla times an since he wassa good bunny, he got to be outta da habbytat a wot. He wassn a chewer, ora mad explorer or ennyfing, an Maman culd pik him up wif one hand (unwike me, dat needs two hands anna wotta "innerackshun" whutebber dat is.). So he culd be downnastairs to watch whut Dadda did wiffa bags ob pooties after he taked dem outta da Bun Room.

Well, Dadda taked da bag ob pooties, an you know whut? He pwanted dem inna garden! Pwanted pooties! Hawthorn seed it! Dadda taked da bags ob pooties an pwanted dem inna garden, an just weft dem dere to grow. Dat's whut fings do inna garden - dey grow.

An den, a coupla days waiter, Maman comes into da Bun Room, an she has dis bag wif widdle round fings innit.

"Who wantsa 'mater?"

So I axted Hawthorn whut da heck issa 'mater? An we went ober to habba wook at whut Maman is settin oud onna floor. It's dees widdle round balls, wike gwapes, onwy dees are bwight wed wif widdle green tops onn'em.

An Maman sed: "Dere fresh frumma garden!"

An I'm finkin, "Hold on! Issn't dat where Dadda dumped alla dose pooties?"

Bud Hawthorn's alweddy got his mouf full. An he wooks at me wif 'mater juice tricklin' down his widdle chin, an his bloo eyes get buggy an he opins his mouf an oud falls da 'mater.

An just den Hunny yells frum his habbytat: "She's twyin to poison us!" an suddwy, da whole Warren is wookin at dees 'mater fings an figgerin dat dey will happily gib dem a miss, since we all know da troof now.

'Maters comes frum pwantin pooties.

Bud Maman wooks rilly hurt, an she calls downnastairs to Dadda an tells him dat we won't eatta 'maters. So Dadda comes uppa stairs an reaches inna bag dat Maman has. And HE EATS ONNA DA 'MATERS! Den he shrugs an says, "I dunno whut's wrong wif dem." an goes away downnastairs agin.

I sed datta Dadda allus tells us da troof. I didn't say he wuz smawt.

Bud I stay 'way frum 'maters if I wuz you.

Day Sebben / First Strand
Eatin. We all gotta do it. We do it heer at Our Warren an if you wanna belieb Maman, we do a wot ob it. We hab salads, pellets and hay. Oh, an tweats. Yeah, wots ob tweats. In fact, tweats is wun ob my favouritest subjeks.

We ged a wotta tweats heer. Mainly ebbery nite at 10:00 p.m. Maman an Dadda gadder outsidea door obba Bun Room an you kin hear `em tawkin, "You reddy?" an den Dadda will say, "I gotta nanner an I'm notta `fraid to use it." (For sum reason he finds dis funny.) An den suddenwy da barrier slides to one side an in dey come, usually Dadda furst wif Maman behin him. Dey come in inna hurry cos ob Hunny bein owd.

See, Daddy says Hunny issa "Sly owd bugger". An dat's aboud rite. Cos Hunny wants to ged his tweats furst, bud he's not as close toda door as I am. I shuld gedda tweats furst onna'count ob my bein Top Bun an Hed Rabbit an all, bud Hunny usta beda Top Bun before he gots too owd for it, so he hadda figger oud sum way to keep on geddin da tweats before ennybunny else. So dis is how he does it: He stands up on his back wegs.

Now Hunny, periscopin on his hind wegs, isn't da most steady fing inna werld. In fact, wif Poet, his bond-mate, bargin around wike a brown-an-white bumper-car he's at risk ob bein knocked offa his feets at enny sekond. An cos he's owd, he's fragile. So Maman an Dadda are skert dat he'll be knocked ober by Poet, an dere's da owd fool standin up wike a strainin stachu, an Poet runnin around wike a demented hampster (onwy six hunnert times da size), so dey rush in to gib da owd fools dere tweats furst before enny disasters happen.

Hunny mite be owd an fortygetful an ebbery mornin mite be a noo adbenchur for him in bein Hunny, bud in sum ways, he's stilla preddy smawt owd bunny.

Maman an Dadda say I amma "garbage gut". Dis is cos I will eat enny tweats I kin ged my toofies into. Well, wouldn't'chu? I mean, tweats are not all *dat* fick onna gwound. Dat's why dey are tweats an not food. Food is whut'chu ged ebbery day. It appears inna bowl an dere it is until you eat allob it. Id is mostwy plain, ordinary an dere. Tweats, onna udder paw are not allus dere. Dey onwy come in at nite, an dey are speshul.

Dey are mostwy froot, wike appuls, `nanners, blooberries, or gwapes. Or dey can be herbs, wike dillweed or mint dat tickuls your nose. Sumtimes tweats are fings dat come in bags frumma speshul Tweat Store. Dese fings are wike Craisins - dried, sweetened cranberries frumma Ocean Spray Company, or udder dried froots wike apprycots, or blooberries. Now dees are premium tweats. Prunes aren't bad edder, bud dey wack a certin sumfing in my opinion. Raisins are nice, too, bud for reel tweatness, you can't beat Craisins.

An just when you finked dat nobun could improb on perfekshun, dey went an made flavoured Crasins! Yeah, for reel, bunny-pleasin tweats, you can't beat dose pipple atta Ocean Spray Company. I habba feelin dat sumbun dere must be a bunny-parent, onna'count ob Craisins are da most tawked-aboud tweat onna e-mail wist, PB, dat I was telling you my Maman bewongs to. Dere are aboud five hunnert hoomins onna wist an aboud sebbin hunnert bunnies, an Crasins area big topik ob diskusshin. You wanna stock-tip frumma bunny? Buy stock in dat Ocean Spray Company. Dat company is gonna go pwaces.

Udder fings dat make a good tweat is carrots.

An Maman sed dat whut's good aboud tweats for bunnies is dat dey are also good choices for snaks for hoomins. Now dat caught my `tenshun. Cos dere ara wotta fat hoomins around, or so I been reading inna noos papers. A wotta pipple are blamin adbertizin for bein too fluffy, as we bunnies say. Dey say dat nobun told dem aboud "healthy choices" in food an dat alla adbertizin is geared toward makin young hoomins eat food dat is not good for dem. So I'm doin a pubwik serbice heer an tawkin aboud healthy tweats tiday.

Cos ebberybunny deserbs a tweat now an den. At 10:00 p.m. Ebbery nite. Wiffout fail. =:x)

Day Six / First Strand
Da Sun is oud. Id is berry cold heer now, an I'm not jus tawkin your normal Winter cold, I'm tawkin da reel find-your-bond-mate-wet's-snuggle type-ob cold dat makes me gwad I godda fur coat on alla time.

Not dat it's cold inna Bun Room. It's not. Maman's gotta Heeder inna innerds obba houz on an it's roarin. Hunny sed he digested a pikchur inna buk obba fing called a "Dragon" dat belches fire. Wooks sorta wike a big wizzard wif spikes, he sed, wif teef anna big nose an no fur. Bud den, Hunny's been at dose buk-cases inna Liberry for yeers, so he's seen wots ob fings datta rest ob us don know aboud. Bein twelbe yeers owd issa great age fora bunny, an eben if Hunny is preddy addled most obba time, he does know aboud a wotta stuff datta rest ob us don know.

Bud I don fink dere's enny dragons inna bottom obba houz. I fink its sum kinda machine down dere dat keeps us warm. Dadda an Maman fuss aboud it a wot, an sum guys come onna truk oncet in awhile an feed it or sumfing an Maman gibs dem munny. So dat's how I know da fing down dere eats sumfing, cos Maman hasta pay for it. Ob course, da onwy way I know dat it hasta be paid for is cos she an Dadda compwain aboud habbin to bemember to go to sumpwace called "da bank" before da guys come to feed da machine.

I figger it hasta be a machine cos Maman doesn't go down dere an tawk to it. In fact, she says she hates it. She says so a wot. She hates "down dere" an won't go down dere. She allus sends Dadda wiffa torch. Now Maman wubs annymuls. She ebben wubs da catz, so I fink dat if dere wassa Dragon "down dere" she wuld at weast try to make friends widdit. She makes friends wid ebberyfing else, ebben Sistah's stoopid yappy puppy anna Collie Dawg, Zachary-Marcus, who comes to bisit us ebbery now an den. (I bited his nose.) So if dis fing wassa reel Dragon wike Hunny finks, den she'd be down dere all concerned an tawkin to it, an force-cuddlin it wike she does to us alla time.

Bud Maman is preddy much obba romantik an she don gib too many thoughts to machines. She uses dem for what dere 'sposed to be used for an den dat's it. Dey go back inna cwoset or whutebber. She doesn't tawk to dem, unwess dey don' werk - den whut she mite say, we hab no werds for in Lagomorphin. She wuldn't say does werds to a annymul, dat's fur sure, aldoh, I hab herd her use dose werd when she's tawkin boud sum certin pipples she obwiously don wike too much. An she names, names, too. Which tends to gib me da impwesshun dat in Maman's werld, annymuls are much more impawtant denna machines or certin pipples.

So ennyways, id is warm in heer. Da Sun is comin fru da windows inna Bun Room an shinin down inna nice bun-sized square in my habbytat. Da houz is makin comfortyable clicky, hummy noises anna fing "down dere" is doin it's job makin ebberywhere warm.

Da onlwiest way dat I know id's cold outside is dat Dadda went oud toda Bank dis mornin. I wuz inna Libbin Room, sleepin wif my tail toward da door, you know, an my nose pointed toward da kitchin - just snoozin, sorta - an den Dadda opined da Frunt Door. Suddenwy *whoosh!* I gots dis blast ob cold air, wike a slap inna butt, rite up my tail!

Well, I just weft. Came up heer to my habbytat inna Bun Room, godded onta my blankie an settled down. An I'm stayin heer... wif my butt pointed toward da door again. So when dey come uppa stairs to see whut I'm geddin up to, dey'll know 'zackly whut I fink ob geddin wokin up bya cold smack ob air. See dis tail? If it's pointin toward you, take a hint!

Day Five / First Strand
Hokay, I hab yet to see a good reason for a hoomin to buy a fur or fur-trimmed piece ob clothes. An I am upset 'boud dis.

Yeah, I readed da artykul inna Noo Yawk Times 'bout how wearin fur wuz "oud" because hoomins wuz finally geddin da message dat fur bewongs onna critters dat growed it, bud dat now wearin fur is back "in" again. An I readed da quotes frumma hoomins inna artykul who had ethical pwoblems wif wearin dead animals, anna quotes frumma hoomins who wuld wanna do such a disgustin fing - an you know whut? Dere wuz no good reason ennybunny pud forward for wearin animal fur, 'cept dat it wuz "in fashin".

So whut's dis "fashin"? Is dis sum munny-fing again? I mean, whut does "fashin" mean? I 'spect dat it has sumfing to do wif how pipple feel 'bout demeslbes - wike dey hab to wear certin stuff to feel a certin way. Dat don make sense. I wear my fur an I feel wike me. You wear your skin an feel wike you. You are whut you are; whut you pud onna outside doesn't make you whut you are. No madder whut you wear, you are still whut you are. I am still a bunny.

It wike dis: Maman can pud a harness on me an we kin go toda Church. She an Auntie Paula are tawkin 'boud geddin a certin kind ob harness dat wuld habba shield in colours onna side ob it for Hazel an me. I habben's tawked to Hazel 'boud dis yet, bud I don't fink dat wearin dis harness is gonna make us feel enny dif'frent den we normally do in Church. We will still be bunnies. I will still be an Inkwish Sopt Bunny an Hazel will still be a Fwemmish Giant Bunny. No madder whut kind ob harness we wear, dat won't change.

As far as I kin tell, whut harness we wear won't change da Church. Dere will still be da tabul wiffa cake an cookies onnit after da serbice an dere will still be da crumbs onna floor to be snuffled, anna kidlets feedin us when our Mamans aren't wookin; an dere will still be da nice Priest who finks I'm berry cute an holds me an touches my nose wif his nose. An pwobably, I'll still be wookin for ways to ged up inna Choir where I'm not 'sposed to be, an wanna ged more pets atta Passin Obba Peace, cos dat's why I'm dere, cos I amma "Bassador ob Hope an Peace".

I mean, wearin dat harness isn't gonna change me when I go to Church, and if you'd see Hazel, you know as sure as I'mma bunny dat no harness is gonna change Hazel! We is who we is, no madder whut kinda harness we is wearin!

Anna harness isn't gonna change me intoa dog ora cat or sumfing when I go wif Maman onna bisits to sik pipple, eidder, an I'm sure it's not gonna change Hazel when she goes on her bisits to childwen's an senior's pwaces, eidder. Our harnesses don make us whut we are. Dey mite tell a widdle bit aboud us toda hoomins we meet, bud da harnesses don say a fing aboud us to udder bunnies. Udder bunnies don mind whut sort ob harness we're wearin. Hoomins, well, hoomins seem to wanna hab signs an siggynals to flash to udder hoomins 'boud who dey are, or how impawtant dey are or how much munny dey hab.

An sumhow, "impawtant" hassa wot to do wif "munny" for sum hoomins. Dis seems stwange to me. I dunno how much munny Maman has, bud my Maman issa most impawtant hoomin inna werld to me. She mite not hab enny munny! Bud bunnies don care how much munny our parents hab. We don measure hoomins by munny. Bud hoomins seems to measure udder hoomins by munny, an munny seems to be shown by buyin lives to wear...

So I guess dat's whut "fashin" is - showin off munny. It's wike habbin a sign onna harness, an sumbun wears a dead animal's skin to show dey hab more munny den sumbun else. Dis don make enny sense.

If you gots wots ob munny, instead ob showin it off, wike habbin munny makes you into sumfing, why not use da munny to help sumbun else? Bein able to gib makes you into a lubbin, kindwy hoomin. Not bein able to gib is jus sad an sik. Whuts'sa good ob munny if its not used, or if its just used on stoopid stuff dat nobun aktually needs? A wool coat will keep your skin warm an sheeps don mind gibbin wools. Dey don die frum gibbin wools. Bunnies are borned, lib an den are killed, wif nobun to lub dem, just to gib dere skins.

So whut'cha gonna do - kill to show off?

A Add-on to Day Four / First Strand
Wookit, I'm not gonna make a habit ob addin on, bud I godda axt: Does ennybunny care datta 22 yeer-old pop-tart acted the compweat pootie by gettin tanked, hitched an ditched in alla 24 hours? Bein stoopid is no reason to be bodderin da rest ob us, just wike bein selfish is *so* "wast yeer"!

Send a "hoppy day" e-mail to da person onna nexest 'puter to you, who mite be feelin down. It onwy takes a sekond.

Posted by Our Warren at 1:35 PM EST

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Day Four / First Strand
Tidday I was readin Pet Bunny. Dis issa e-mail wist for does pipples dat hab Companion Bunnies, wike our Maman. It's godda wotta hoomins an dere bunnies onnit. Nice pipple, mainly crazy, but dere is more den wun kinda crazy an sum kinds ob crazy are more sane den udders...which makes "sane" wun ob does werds dat rilly means nuffin when you examin it up close.

"Sane" is whut a wotta folks hope dat dey are. It's whutta wotta bunnies know dat dey is. We inna Warren tend to take da day as we find it. If it's rainin, we don do much. Ebben doh we are inside an it's not rainin inside, we snuggle up wif our bondmate an nap, or hab a few strands ob hay an jus generally doze. Whutssa point ob geddin up an runnin aroun when it's nasty outside? Our genetic imprint tells us dat rainy days are gud days for conservin energy forda days when da sun is oud an we kin do a wotta eatin an breedin an impawtant survival stuff. We share dis wif our wild cousins who also don seeda point in goin oud inna yucky wedder. It's bedder to sit an conserb in wess den optimal conditions and dat's whut we do.

Onna udder paw, hoomins race around inna wedder wike dere is no wedder. Dey pud on special clothes, wook up atta sky an dash outta da house all upset or else all resigned an grumpy. Dey wook atta wedder onna tellybishon an sigh an den take medycine cos dere joints hurt when it rains.

An dey call dis "sane". Frumma rabbit point ob beiw, dis is not at all "sane" an shows a distinct wack ob intellygence. Ebben dawgs, who are not all dat bright an hab been accused ob renting brain cells in order to fink pawt-time, hab enuf sense to come in oudda da rain. Dawgs mite be stoopid, but most ob dem are not "insane". Onna udder paw, hoomins, who are 'sposed to be atta top obba food chain inna Smawts Depawtment in Creation, are so addicted to da idea ob makin "munny" dat dey will intenshunally go out inna rain. Now how stoopid issat?

Not onwy are dey so addicted toda munny-idea dat dey go oud inna rain, bud dey are ruinin dere homes in order to ged more munny. Now does dat quallyfy as "sane"? Inna Warren, you know, we hab a pwace to sleep, a pwace to gadder, a pwace to eat an a pwace to go pooties. Just wike a hoomin houz. (Which goes to show pipple dat dere is no such obba fing assa "dumb bunny".) An we don destroy dat. Bud hoomins, who also lib on dis pwanet wif us, are bizzy pavin it ober, cuttin downna trees, diggin it up, frowin out ennybunny who libs dere who isn't dem, an just gen'rally makin a mess dat dey don bodder to clean up. All cos doin dat will make dem munny - so dey can buy more fings to frow oud, or dig wif, or build wif, or destruct wif... id's endwess, dis "munny" fing.

An den sum hoomins who are makin a wotta munny an doin alla dees rilly stoopid fings, ged mad when udder hoomins notice it an try to say, "Hay, stop it." Da hoomins who is makin da mess, who seems to be libbin insane, call da hoomins who wanna habba nice home wif trees an all "insane" an try to make roolz dat wuld put da Nice-Home hoomins inta jails.

So you kinda wook atta werds "insane" an "sane" an you wunder. It's not "sane" to destroy your own houz. An it's not sane to destroy sumbunny else's houz just cos dey are destroyin stuff. All ob dis battin back an forf isn't gonna help grow more trees or stop stoopid hoomins frum cuttin dem down. It issn't gonna stop da diggin up or da pavin ober, orda dumpin orda killin, orda disrespect, or ennyfing. It jus makes hoomins madder at each udder, I've noticed.

So if it don werk, why not stop it an try sumfing else? It's mainly "insane" to stay werkin atta same old fing, espeshully if it issn't werkin - wike diggin a hole dat's alweddy been digged.

You know whut's gonna help? Well, stawt by lookin at whut'cha got. Food? Shelter? Check. Do you rilly *need* to wear dat dead animal's skin to keep you warm, or issit just to impress sumwun esle? Mebbe you culd stawt a noo trend - buy dat udder coat dat issn't made outta somebun's skin, an den send da munny you sabed toa CHARITY OB YOUR CHOICE. Ged your friends to do it wif you. Habba compytishun to see who can kin send da biggest number ob munnies to sumbun who doesn't hab enny.

Wook attit dis way: You wuld habba coat. Da poor animal will still be alibe. Sum hoomin who hassn't seen rain inna rilly long time culd see a widdle shower ob munny.

An you'll feel bedder. Always wantin fings issa werry. Allus stretchin, reachin forda nextest fing, allus habbin to go out intoda rain, graspin an clawin after whutebber is a terrible feelin. Bein "mad" for dis an "mad" for dat issa fing you do to yourselfs. It's "insane". Why go dere? Stay in. Be crazy wike a bunny an habba home. Hab sum hay. Habba rest.

Day Three / First Strand
Good grief! Geddin heer was half da pwoblem. Nabigatin da WerldWideWeb, ebben wif alla tools an stuff issa Big Task. I fink datta more infortymayshun we get onna puter, da dumber we ged. It's wike we *know* 'bout wots ob fings, bud it's not reel cos it's all happenin onna monnytor. We aren't rilly seein' whut's happenin, it's wike it's happenin to sumbun else, far, far away.

I taked yestidday off. I needed yestidday off. It's cos our Bun Room is entirely too crowded, wike Noo Yawk Ciddy at Rush Hour up dere, lemme tell you. Dis is cos dere are two noo bunnies dat hab come to lib wif us. We was full when dere was sebben ob us, bu nine ob us wif two extry houses issa wotta buns! So we god two noo bunnies heer an dis is whut happened...

Free days ago, Maman godda phone call frumma old veterinarian. Dis guy issa nice guy (fora vet who sticks thermommymeters up your butt) an he cares a wot aboud bunnies (which is sayin a wot, cos dere are a whole wotta vets who don know pooties aboud rabbits 'cept assa way ob makin money). An his wady tells Maman dat dere issa Guy inna office wif two bunnies dat are older an dat da guy is berry sad, cos he hasta pud his two bunnies to sleep.

(For dose ob you who don know, dis means kill dem. In my books, killin is wrong - you hoomins don gib life, so how can you justify takin it away frum somebun else? Until you know how to gib it, you can't take it. Takin sumfing away frum sumbunny else is called "stealin", no madder whut you say, so takin sumfing dat's not your's is wrong, wrong, wrong.)

So da vet called Maman. Den da Guy called Mamn an dis is whut he sed:

He comed frumma pwace called "Liberia" which is a country dat seems to be a good place to be *frum* just now. I digested a few buks, an it seems dat Liberia wassa 'stablished assa country for slabes who had been gibben dere libes back, but who didn't know where in Africa to go back to - so dey were gibbed "Liberia", a pwace in Africa just for dem to make a noo country out ob. A wot ob hoomins went dere an made a governmint an schools an all, bud dere were pwoblems, an bad hoomins came an got greedy an mean. So dey been habbin dis war wif wots ob udder hoomins sufferin an nobun seems to care. It's a shame, rilly. Cos heer are nice hoomins wiffa whole country who need sum help sortin fings out an nobuns' helpin dem.

So dis Guy came frum dere to heer. He didn't know ennybunny an he was On Alone. Now bein On Alone issa horrible fing. It means dat you hab nobunny to care for an nobunny cares for you. You hab no Warren. No udder ones wike you. You godda be on Watch, an on Alert alla time, wif nobun to talk to or waff wif or share wif. So dis Guy was On Alone, by himself. So he god a bunny. He named da bunny "Mouse", cossa bunny was widdle an brown an had widdle uppy ears.

An da Guy an Mouse wuld watcha tellybishon togedder, an sid togedder, an share cereal outta da box an tawk. An den, cossa Guy hadda go to werk an he thought Mouse mite be lonely bein on his On Alone durin da day, da Guy got Mouse a widdle gurl-bun to lib wif him, an named her "Luckie". Luckie was a widdle bigger den Mouse an had Lop ears an wuz white wif fawn spots.

So den, after six yeers, da Guy fell in lub an married a wady. An da wady was preddy happy wiffa bunnies an wiffa Guy an ebberyting, bud den, da wady got pregnant.

An den, suddenly, she didn't want da bunnies aroun. Bunnies are dirty, she sed. Bunnies can't be around babies, she sed. You HAB to get RID obba bunnies, she sed.

Ged rid obba bunnies. Ged rid ob your friends. Ged rid obba wuns dat lubbed da Guy furst before she did. Wike dey are fings. Or furnitchur. Or anyfing 'cept wibbing, breathing friends obba Guy. So da Guy waited, hopin datta wady wuld change her mind.

His hoomin friends said, "Just wet dem go, dere bunnies and dere's wots ob bunnies outside." Bud da Guy knowed dat DOMESTIC BUNNIES are NOT wild bunnies. DOMESTIC bunnies can't live outside wike wild bunnies. Domestic bunnies hab no surbibal skills. Frow dem outside an they DIE.

The Guy wouldn't make his friends homeless. Bud he was afraid to try and rehome dem wiffa ad inna noospaper, too, because sumbun mite take dem to eat dem, or feed dem to snakes or buy dem to hurt dem wif dogs - because atta end obba day, hoomins DON'T CARE. Mouse an Luckie were da Guy's friends an he had taken care ob dem an lubbed dem an he wasn't going to send dem off to horrible places to die in fear an terror.

So he gathered dem up, an wif tears, tooked dem to da vet, an axted dat dey be gibben a dignified death. So dat dey could go safely to da Rainbow Bridge, so he could be sure dat nothing bad wuld ebber happen to dem. Because his bunnies had lubbed him when he was justa Guy frum Liberia, before dere wassa wady orra fambly, or hoomin friends. Dey were a Warren ob Free.

Anna vet told him 'bout Maman an 'bout us. Anna Guy axt Maman if she wuld take Mouse an Luckie to lib heer. An Maman an Dadda sed "Ob course". An dey felt rilly bad forda Guy, an Maman cried.

So Mouse an Luckie are heer inna Bun Room. Mouse is preddy skert, cos he's not used to alla bunnies, bud he's geddin used to us. Luckie is alweady used to alla us. She rilly likes treat-time an is rite dere inna front when Maman an Dadda come in wiffa Craisins an stuff.

Anna Guy is happy cos Luckie an Mouse hab found Forebber Homes, just wike him.

Bud dere are still alla dose hoomins in Liberia. Udder hoomins know alla 'bout Liberia an whut's wrong dere, bud nobuns doin much to help dem. It's wike ebberybuns sayin, "Well, just wet dem go." I dunno why. It's wike, da more dey know 'bout fings goin wrong inna werld, da wess dey wanna do to help out. Bud dat's wrong, cos atta end obba day, nobun shuld ebber be On Alone. Da planet is rilly Wun Big Warren, an each place is as impawtant as ebbery udder. We godda mak sure dat nobun, ebben a country, is On Alone.

Day Two / First Strand
Sekond day ob my blog. I will write sum adbice, I fink, since it is Noo Yeerz an ebberybun seems to be writtin adbice aboud sumfing.

My Adbice Forda Day is "Don Werry". We rabbits nebber werry. We know dat if fings are goin wrong, den fings hab to ged bedder... cos when you're always biewin fings frum gwound lebbel, da onwy way to wook is "UP".

I told you before dat I libbin Our Warren wif Eight Udder Bunnies. One ob dem is Hunny. Hunny is twelbe yeerz old, which is berry old for a housebunny. He issa multi-coloured mini-Lop, an lemme tell you, da only fing aboud him dat is "mini" is his ears. Da rest obba rabbit is preddy darn big. Ennyway, he's old an he's preddy deaf an he's got dose cataract fings ober his eyes an Maman just finks he's close toa angels. Aroun heer da rool issat Hunny Can Do No Wrong .

He is bonded to Poet who is one big old Dutchy Gurl who hassa fing aboud keepin da old boy clean. Dis issa full-time okkypayshun, cos Hunny issa full-time slob. Alla us inna Warren hab pooty-trays, which are wike cat litter-boxes, an we know how to use them. Hunny used to know how to use his, but bein old, he's not good at gettin to his pooty-box in time before sumfing falls outta his butt. So you'll see him ober dere in his habbytat, an suddenly he'll put his hed up an start scurryin toward his pooty-box, an den ~whoops~, it's all ober an he stops scurryin', so you just know dat, oncet again, he's figgered it out too late dat he hada go, went, an now it's all ober until da nextest time.

He also wikes to play wif his wadder. Maman gibbed up gibbin him a boddle ob wadder onna day dat he managed to unscrew it frumma side obba habbytat an flooded ebberyting. Rabbits inside obba habbytats habba wotta time on dere paws to ged inta stuff. Ebben when da habbytat has sixteen square feet ob play space, an is fulla toys, we kin find stuff to ged into.

Now Hunny an Poet habba crock ob wadder dat screws inta da wall. Dadda fought dat it wouldn't be tipped ober or thrown an dumped, an he's mainly right, bud Hunny can dip his ears innit an den fling dat wadder ebberywhere - which he does. So da rest ob us get treated to reg'lar showers ebberytime da old boy goes fora drink.

Budda reel pwoblem wif Hunny missin da witter-box an den flingin wadder issat wadder an pooties mix an what widda hay ebberywhere (in spite ob Maman hooverin it up ebbery day, which is anudder story) dere is one heck obba mess dat Poet tries to clean up. She chases Hunny down ebbery mornin, den geds a good hold on him an gibs him a bodywash. Wedder he wants it or not. Mostly, he don want it, cos he still finks he's Top Bun inna Warren an don hab to do ennyfing he don wanna do. Whut he doesn't realise is dat he's past it, da old fool. Poet is issa one-track rabbit: when she's onna track, nuffin short obba nuclear strike to da brain-pan is gonna stop her. So ebbery day, Hunny Da Big Boss wakes up to his ebben Bigger Boss, his Missus, an has his ears washed.

Bud in rabbit society, we hab dis fing where it's hokay dat Hunny finks he's Top Bun. Da udder bunnies don fight wif him when he's out at playtime an he struts up an wooks in ebberybunny's habbytat. An he leabs "callin cards" outside ob ebberybunny's habbytat wike he's markin terrytorry an we just wet him. He's old an once he wassa Top Bun an could protect da Warren cos he was big an tough an fast an had sharp teef. He wassn't 'fraid ob ennyfing. An he could at da slightest sound. He had great ears - da best ears for alarms. I fink iffa Warren faced a serious threat, he'd be dere helpin me, bud, well, now he can't, but why hurt his feelins by tellin him? He issa good bun, ebben if he is Maman's fav'rit an can't hit da witter-box wiffa barge pole.

So he wanted to add sumfing to my blog an I sed, hokay. So here's whut he sed:
Hunny's Obserbashun: "When fings goes wrong inna Warren, my job as Senior Top Bun is to and run to occupye the highest gwound... Which in my
werld issa pooty-box. I guess it says sumfing aboud your werld when da highest point innit issa full pooty-box..."<*ponder>

So, wike, whuts da highest point in your werld, den?
Keep wookin *UP*.

Posted by Our Warren at 10:06 AM EST

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Day One / First Strand
I called dis da Hay Diaries. Seemed aboud right. Widdle play on werds. Rabbits need hay in dere diets and hay is wun ob does fings dat is wike life - messy, in wots ob bits, nebber-ending an composed ob wots ob strands dat wead no pwace in particular.

We gotta bale ob hay heer atta Warren. Maman keeps it inna big plastic tub inna hall, an no matter whut she does to contain it, it's ebberywhere. Sum always falls out when Maman opens da tub, and den da catz walk innit an spread it all ober da hall; den da Dadda treads innit an tracks hay downna stairs. Frumma stairs, da hay strands migrate on dere own into da libbin room, an fru da dinin room, on into da kitchin an den before you kin blink, ebbery room inna houz has got hay innit.

It's just untidy stuff, bud we bunnies need to hab it in our diets. Hoomins fink bunnies lib on carrots. Dey watch tellybision an fink dat Bugs Bunny is sum kind ob Authority On Rabbits. Hoomins seem to hab trubble wif Reality dat way. Dey see sumfing onna tellybishon an fink it has to be troo.

Reality is dat rabbits need hay to help dem process udder foods, an dat too many carrots are bad for bunnies. Carrots hab too much sugar in dem an not enuf fiber. Bud do you ebber see "hay" menshuned inna cartoon wif Bugs Bunny? No. Not dat dere is ennyfing wrong wif Bugs - dere isn't. He's not sposed to be a spokes-bun for bunny-care. He's "Entertainment". Bud whut hoomins fortyged is dat Bugs issn't a real rabbit; he'ssa imagination obba rabbit. An imagination can lib on carrots an sugar, bud a real rabbit can't. We need hay, as messy as it is. Bud hoomins will belib in Bugs an not belib in whut's rilly da troof. A berry sad fing for bunnies who ged into homes wif ignorant hoomins who don' learn how to care for dem prop'rly.

I don fink hoomins shuld rely onna media for so much ob dere infortymashun. Da Tellybishon, da noospapers, sum obba books dat I see don seem to be berry real. Real life isn't tidy an simple. It's a whole wotta messy hay wiffa few nice carrots.