George's Eigth Strand; Day Number 15
Now Playing: Werld-Wide Pellet Shortage?

 

You gotta hand it to Maman. She tries. She is rilly, rilly berry trying when she wants to be.

 Latest mess-up... 

She come innu da Bun Room and announces:

"Dere issa Werld-Wide Shortage ob Pellets onna'count obba Fakt dat dere has been a breakdown obba pipeline frum Alaska."

And she gibs us all dees round willow baskits fulla timothy hay.

And I'm wike, Whutdaheck, it's food, I'm eating it.

So dat's preddy much dat.

Den she comes in later, and she takes out dat willow baskits, fills dem wif more timmy hay, puts dem back innu our habbytats, and says da same fing aboutta "Werld-Wide Shortage ob Pellets".

And so, MissyBun, who lubs her pellets, goes ober to wook in our Pellet Crock, and sure enough, it's empty!

So Missy turns around and wooks at me and axts me "Whuttaheck?"

And since I gots my mouf fulla hay, I tell her, "Werld-wide shortage ob Pellets. Didn't you hear Maman?"

And Missy is wike, "You gotta be kiddin' me!"

So she sticks her nose back innu da pellet crock and snorts and alla dust left ober frumma pellets flies alla'round her hed. 

Den she comes ober to me, and sticks her nose in my face and it's all browny-green onna'count obba Fakt dat dere is pellet-bust all ober it.

And she says, "Hokay. Whut'cha gonna do abouddit?"

And I'm wike, "Um, hab sum hay?"

Which doesn't go ober too good wif Missy, onna'count obba Fakt dat she grabs her toy and tosses it innu da Pellet Crock. Den she goes to sit onna pootie-box and habba Fink, wearing her Disapproving Rabbit face.

 So it's getting to be Dark, and Maman and Dadda let ebbery bun habba widdle playtime out onna Screen Porch inna BunPen (which was nice, 'cept Da Dawg also hadda hab his Evening Bark wif alla'udder dawgs inna neighbourhood, which was annoying!) and Beebe gots brushed and had his face washed wiffa moist flannel, which he wiked because he misses being groomed by his CloverBunny anna stuffie-bunny dat Maman gibbed him to sleep wif doesn't do much obba job on grooming (although it seems to eat hay and it moobs around a widdle whin Maman strokes its ears. Very weird.).

So here we are in  Our Habbytats, and it's Dark, and Maman takes out da willow baskits and puts dem back in fulla timothy hay and dis time dere are rose petals, some dill leebs, and mint leebs, and sum parsley leebs all skattered ober da hay!

And I'm wike, WHOA! And I dive rite in.

And Dadda comes by and he says,

"Hey, what's up with you, Bug-a-Lugs?" to Missy, which makes her annoyed, so she gibs him wunna her glares. And Dadda says, "You're getting to be a fat cow, aren't you?"

 Now Dadda says dis to her inna nicest possibly way, and he smiles and pets her, but she just grumps and goes to sulk on her pootie box, which makes him laugh.  (Keep in mind dat dis issa man who wears Harewear tee-shirts to visit summa his customers!)

Now I'm sitting between da side obba Habbytat and da willow baskit, and Missy is onna udder side obba baskit, wif da most obba Our Habbytat behind her. So she toddles ober toda hay-baskit, hassa wook innit and hassa rose petal.

And while she's sampling da rose petal, a Cat wanders unnerneaf obba Habbytat. 

Well, dat preddy much figgers, because Da Dawg is outside On Patrol as Dadda calls it, and dat just means that he isn't heer to make sure dat dere are No Catz Inna Bun Room. So da Catz are taking Advantage, as usual.

And dis is Cokie-da-Fat-Cat, who takes Advantage ob Ebberyfing dat's going onna'count obba Fakt dat he says He Issa Furst Cat (whutebber dat means!).

And Cokie says to Missy, "Guess whut, Bug-a-Lugs?"

And Missy says, "Don't call me dat."

So Cokie says it again and wabes his tail just past da bottom obba habbytat where Missy can't get it.

Den Cokie says, "Guess whut, Bug-a-Lugs? Dere is no Werld-Wide Shortage ob Pellets. Maman just made dat up. Dat troo Fakt is dat you are FAT - good in Catz wike me, bad in bunnies wike you - and Maman and Dadda are concerned abouddit. And you know whut happins whin dey are concerned aboud sumfing - dey go off and Do Sumfing Abouddit, which in dis case means dat Bunnies Hab To Eat More Hay And Less Pellets."

And Missy is wike, "Whut?"

Anna Cat says, "Dere is no Werld-Wide Pellet Shortage, Bug-a-Lugs. Dere issa Whole Fifty-Pound Bag ob Green Bag inna car. I herd Dadda tawkin' to Phil."

And Missy is wike puffing out to almost twice her size in fur and she glares down atta Cokie-Cat and says, "WHUT?"

And Cokie says, "Clean out your ears, BunnyRabbit: Dere is no Werld-Wide Pellet Shortage. You hab bin had."

So Missy starts stomping around inna Habbytat and she's not inna good mood about dis at all.

So I'm still ober heer, between da side obba Habbytat anna willow baskit, and I'm eating hay wif alla herbs and stuff innit, and not saying ennyfing, because I hab preddy much growed to become a Fairly 'Tellygint rabbit.

And Maman and Dadda lets inna Dawg, who chases da Kitty-Cat right Uppastairs, onna'count obba Fakt dat dere are No Catz Inna Bun Room! And den Maman and Dadda says "'Nite Bunnies!" and dey turn offa Bun Room Light, and shuffle off to bed.

So dat's preddy much dat.

Except.

Missy is still mad.

So I'm munching hay, and she marches up to da willow baskit and gibs it a shub wif her hed, which kinda pushes da whole issue innu my face.

And she's wike, "Well?"

So I shake my hed clear obba hay, and push da baskit back to clear myself a widdle room, and I'm wike,

"Well, what?"

And she gibs da baskit anudder shub, and here I am wif my face buried again.

And she's wike, "So whutareya gonna DO abouddit?"

So I getta hay outta my nose and ears, and shub da baskit back at her. Because, you know, whut can I do aboud ennyfing? I'm a rabbit enjoying my evening hay. I mean, whuttaheck is going on here?

And Missy grabs da baskit in her teefies, piks it up and starts tippin' it. So I grab da udder side, and preddy soon, we're kind ob staggaring around inna Habbytat, wif dis baskit fulla hay between us, wif her jerkin' it wun way and me jerkin' it da udder. And I'm ober heer, fallin' ober play toys, and balls wif bells inn'em, and she's ober dere, wif most obba room, and she's just aboud wrecking da place wif her back end by careening innu crocks and stuff.

And den I heer Da Dawg come innu da Bun Room, along wif Maman and Dadda in dere baf-robes and slippers.

And I'm finking, "Geez! Dis is all I need!"

When suddinly, da baskit flips up innu da air, and alla hay, anna herbs and ebberfing, falls out.

And dere I am, wiffa Willow Baskit On My HED!

So I back out rilly fast, and ob course, onna'count obba Fakt dat I gots no room, because I'm backed innu a corner obba Habbytat, I bang my butt innu da side obba Habbytat, anna baskit filps up inna air again, and lands right-side up onna wadder crock!

Well, da Wadder Crock was Full. 

Whin da baskit landed onnit, it sorta emptied out on Missy and me.

Well, dat just sorta Putta Carrot Onna Salad for Missy. She grabbed her toy outta da empty Pellet Crock, wound up her hed, and slam-dunked dat toy rite innu da baskit.

It's a kinda big toy. Gots sum weight to it frum alla bells innit. Ennyways, it landed rite inna middle obba baskit and a lotta wadder comed out frum  unner'neaf obba crock, sumhow, and we got wetted again.

And you know whut?

Maman and Dadda went and got kitchen roll and dried us all off and made a big fuss ob Missy, telling her whut a special bunny she was, and how she was just so cute whin she throwed her toy, and so 'dorable and such a 'mazing bunnychild and stuff wike dat.

And den Maman filled dat stoopit pellet bowl!

YEAH!

 Well, you know, I like to have pitched a fit, but Missy had alreddy done it.

And den Maman gibbed each wun ob us a Raisin and sed, "I dunno why I reward you guys for bad behaviour."

And I'm finkin', "Guys? Whut guys? Dere were no guys, just Missy habbin' a fit ober da Werld-Wide Pellet Shortage dat don't exist. And, you're da wun who started it! 'Werld-Wide Pellet Shortage', indeed!"

----------------- By George 

 

George's Eigths Strand; Day Number 10
Now Playing: A Cloverless Day

And what is there left to say on a Clover-less day? Ouite a bit, actually.

This is Clover, Ms CloverBun of Our Warren, to give her proper name. And she was a very proper rabbit. Auntie Irene said she was the "most beautiful rabbit in the whole world." But Auntie Irene is a Cat-person. Still, she knows "beautiful" when she sees it.

Ms Clover came to Our Warren from Mawmie Grace who found her with her two sisters in a dumpster in Bis-Con-Sin. What a terrible way to begin life - discarded in a dumpster with your two sisters! Poor things. They were probably "just hutch bunnies" of the familiar destitute, back-yard untouchable caste, purchased at Easter as living cuddly toys and then gradually shoved out the door as "the kids lost interest" and "well, you know, the mess" and all the other associated, purely hoomin, excuses that robbed them of their dignity as fellow-travellers with whom we share this planet. Doesn't that just happen? As it never should.

But Mawmie Grace, who has a great heart as well as superior athletic skills (after all, anyone who guards our nation and spends their life taking care of soldiers, as she does, must, perforce, be an exceptional human being!) saved Clover, Jazzie and Pearlie Mae from the dumpster, and took them into The Herd who are all great friends of everybun at Our Warren.

And since that made The Herd fairly over-crowded at Christmas in 2002, and nobun should ever be homeless at Christmas! (even though that was never a possibility!), Maman told Mawmie Grace to pick one of the Three Sisters to come to live in Noo Joisey.

And Mawmie Grace selected Clover - the most beautiful grey agouti bunny of the three. 

Mainly To Remind Phil (who, as a newly-minted Petty Officer at Pensacola NAS, was insufferable on the subject of inter-service rivalries) That Army beat Navy in 2002!

So Clover joined a bunderground that was headed East.

Now a bunderground is a complicated affair involving any number of hoomins in any number of vehicles all moving in one general direction with Bunnies On Board. This particular bunderground involved a good-hearted person who accepted Clover from Mawmie Grace, who then met Auntie Laurie who was returning from a MidWest vacation in her RV, who allowed Clover to ride in comfort in her RV all the way to Upper New York State where she was dropped off with  Oskar Ten-Speed Bunny with a different Auntie Laurie (and that was his Forever home), where Clover was picked up by Maman and Dadda and driven to her Forever home, which was Our Warren.

 And this was a fairly simple bunderground. If you want to hear about a complicated one, then someday the story of The Great Tommy Tucker Bunderground will appear in this space. Now that is a true Miracle Story. 

But this is Clover's Story, and hers was a fairly simple bunderground from The Herd in Bis-con-sin to Our Warren in Noo Joisey.

And in Our Warren, Ms Clover settled down in her own habbytat and got to know Belinda and Hawthorn, and me,Hunny, and all the other bunnies who lived there. Most importantly, she stayed alert and learned from the bunnies who were already there, most especially from Belinda who, like her, was an English Spot sort of rabbit (and English Spots are famous for making up their minds about things!) and who had lived through serious surgical procedures and other medical emergencies. And Clover lived with Our Warren through the Dark Days of hoomin joys and sufferings, from one house to another, through the passings of parents, and the growing of Phil and Sistah Beffy, always watching, ever-calm and constantly growing more 'Tellygint as the days passed by. 

She met Beebe-Bunny!! Who was a bachelor-bunny always on the look-out for a bun-wife. And after he chewed his way into her calm, orderly habbytat and she read him the Roolz about living with her, she allowed him to move in with her. 

 Even though Beebe, a former school-bunny from the wilds of South Philadelphia, was several bricks shy of a full load, they formed a devoted bunny-bond as husbun and wife-bun. She kept him neat and tidy and he provided comic relief as Netherland Dwarf Hot-tot Bunnies (who are Ledgends in their own minds) freqently do.

It was the classic "Northern Marriage" - the Big Woman bonded to the classic Little (demented) Man.

But it was a strong bond, such as only bunnies make, that nothing could break.

 Then yesterday, Clover was unwell.

She refused her treats. She was straining to urinate. To hoomin eyes (never very discerning) she had that "inward" look that heralds disaster in all prey animals, that sent Maman running for the phone to call Our Warren's devoted physician and healer, Dr Sharin Skolkin. And Dr Sharin saw Clover at once, took x-rays, drew blood, ran tests, then had the surgeon see her and re-arrange his schedule so that Clover was at the top of the list for the next day's surgery. And wonderful veterinary doctor that she is, Dr Sharin even volunteered to give up her day off to assist at Clover's surgery - because Clover had been hiding (as prey animals will) a large bladder stone, and it had to come out. And Dr Sharin gave Clover a shot for the pain, some pre-surgery anti-biotics, and sent her back to the comfort of her bond-mate and her Warren over-night, with orders for her to return at first light for the next morning's operation.

And Clover returned to Our Warren in her carrier, got back in her tidy habbytat, and talked fings over with Beebe. She had been seen by Dr Sharin and by one of the best Bunny Surgeons in the whole State of Noo Joisey. She knew, from having known Belinda before her what it meant to have a "bladder stone" and what it meant to have "surgery", but she also had spoken with Hunny and she thus also knew The Lore, as do all bunnies, about The Rainbow Bridge. And Clover carefully weighed her options. 

And poor, addled Beebe. What to do about poor little Beebe whose conversation usually consisted of going around shouting "YO!"? Well, he was a Senior Bun, and Maman always cared for Alla Us Togedder. NoBunny was ever OnAlone in Our Warren.

And Clover made her own choice: she left Our Warren for The Rainbow Bridge.

On her own terms, in her own time, of her own choosing.

Leaving us here Below, in a Clover-less world, in the height of Summer.

--------------By Maman

(If you like to know more about The Rainbow Bridge as bunnies know it, please ready "George's Christmas Story" - December 14 - 16, 2005) 

 

George's Eigth Strand; Day Number 6
Now Playing: Happy Bunnies
Topic: Libbin Assa Urban Rabbit

 

"The world is so full of a number of things, That I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings!" --- Robert Louis Stevenson

Maman readed that to us lastest night. She reads to us preddy much a lot which is why, she says, we are "fairly 'Tellygint rabbits". Maman told Sistah Beffy dat she hasta also read out loud to her babby so that da babby will grow up and be 'Tellygint, and Sistah Beffy agreed wif Maman that she would read to her babby alla time, which, she sed, is 'zactly whut Maman inflicted on her and her brudder, Phil, and dat whut goes around, comes around - dat in dis case, cos she was readed to assa babby, she was gonna read to her babby, too.

Beffy also sed, "Appuls don't fall far frum trees." Which is good, I fink, because it makes it a whole wot easier to spot where appuls are likely to be onna'count obba Fakt dat trees are easier to see den appuls lying onna ground.

Annyways, whut Maman readed to us was 'zactly troo: because no madder whut bad things you mite be hearing, the werld is full ob enny number ob wunnerful fings.

Wike Castles.

I know two bunnies who hab Castles ob dere berry own.

Yeah!

Issn't dat wunnerful? We're talking REEL CASTLES heer. Just wike castles dat hab kings and queens, and dooks and udder impawtant stuff inn'em.

My Cuzzin, Little Ashy, who lives inna place called SoCal has wun - his berry own Castle!

Here issa pikchur obbit, wif Little Ashy actchually inside obbit so you will know that it is his berry own Castle!

Now, not ebberybunny I know is lucky enough to have a Castle ob their berry own, but this is Little Ashy's.

And heer he is sitting in it like Sir Gwain, pacing the battlements, and as Little Ashy says, onna wookout for vampires to slay and kingdoms to rule ober benevolently, cos dis is Whut Housebunnies Do.

Well yes, bunnies do dream! And why not? We share dreams and stories wif each udder and tell tales anna Lore, and this is how once, inna Long-Ago-Wilderness, we lived through long Winter nights inna snug burrows, deep unnerground.  Dis is pawt obba Lore as it was told to me, George, by meHunny, Senior Bun before he passed over The Rainbow Bridge. 

And dat issa Lore, but now we lib as Urban Rabbits, as HouseBunnies, and now we share the stories ob our lives through blogs anna 'puter. And not ebbery life is sad. And dis is because all lives are filled wif wall-to-wall possibilities, like the possibility of being a Happy Bunny! 

Yeah!

Now heer is My Cuzzin, Bailey, who libs in New York Citty which is onna East Coast. And dis issa pikchur ob Bailey libbing in his berry own NOO Castle!

Yeah!

Bailey hassa Castle ob his berry own now, preddy much like Little Ashy's, hextcept that this one is onna East Coast and it belongs to Bailey, and dis is his pikchur, so you can see dat dis is also reel - a Bun in His Castle. 

Yeah! 

And Baily and Little Ashy are Happy HouseRabbits! 

So you can see, all acrosst da United States frumma West Coast, where Little Ashy libs alla way toda East Coast where Bailey libs, dere are Urban Rabbits living happily as HouseBunnies, habbin Castles and Kingdoms, Rulers ob Romaine, an' Dukes and Duchesses ob Dandelions Dominions.

Yes, and dis is not to say that ebbery bunny life is filled with purpose-built palaces and cultivated Fields of Fragrant Herbs. We all know that this isn't so. There is still too much suffering and too many homeless bunnies in the werld as it is. And if you habba home to offer to a bunny, you habba means to help change dis terrible Fakt.

But there are wunnerful tales told of Ashy van Helsing, Vampire Slayer! And brilliant stories to which to listen about brave Bailey Fire-Fighter, Rescue-Truck Driver! And there are a few stories, here and there, too, about Little George, Story-Teller-and-All-Purpose-Bunny-Bard.

And there are homes with Bunny Rooms, and PlayRooms, and rooms like Our Warren's Screen Porch that are devoted just to bunnies. There are hearts that are open, and hearts that will always be open to the love of bunnies.

For dis we are Berry Fankful.

And because ob dis dere will allus be Happy Bunnies! 

So, while our werld is not yet perfekt, it is still a werld full of wonders and delight. 

--------- By George 

George's Eigth Strand; Day Number 4
Now Playing: Disapproving Rabbits

Hab you ebber herd ob "Disapproving Rabbits"?

Then you know whut I mean.

If you habben't herd ob "Disapproving Rabbits" then Lemme Tell You, it's a Whole 'Nuther Bunny.

We're talking about MissyBun Hawpa heer, my gorgeous bun-wife ob Gen'rus Proporshuns - or Wun Big, Whole-lotta Disapproving Loppy-eared Houserabbit Bunny when fings don't happin to be going in hextactly her way.

Now dis is Missy onna Good Day:

 Dis wuld be whin ebberyfin is happining da way dat makes Missy a Happy Bunny.

Dis issa Good Day. 

Good fings are going on alla'round her and she is pleased wif ebberyfing and ebberybunny.

 

And down heer issa'nudder pikchur ob Missy assa Top Bun ob Our Warren:

  You can see heer dat she issa Lady Ob All Dat She Suveys.

And this wuld inklood Ebberyfing dat happins to be ebberwheres.

And dis is Fakt.

You don't argue wiffa bunny who is wooking wike Missy is wooking in dis pikchur.

Not if you hab half a brain. Dis issa pikchur obba Seriously In-Charge Rabbit.

So when you see MissyBun Hawpa, who normally wooks wike she does in dees two pikchurs, and she is suddinly wooking at you wike dis:

As she is wooking at you in dis widdle pikchur ober heer (and I can't seem to ged alla pikchurs to come out to be the same size, no madder how hard I try wif dis Blog program!)...

And you notis her bond-mate (which would be me) is wooking at you a lot like I happin to wooking wike in dis pikchur down ober heer...

Then wuld be a good time to figger out dat fings are NOT happining da way that they should be happining.

Because these are da faces of Seriously Disapproving Rabbits.

Rabbits who are Seriously Disappointed in fings as they are.

 And the sight of these disappointed and disapproving faces means that you really need to find a way to FIX STUFF!

Fast!

Because these are the faces of rabbits who have taken the measure of their treatment/environment/social or/or cultural context and found it to be substantially wanting in some fundamental aspect!

It could be that there is a diminished or unclean water/pellet or TREAT  bowl.

It could be a lack of Playtime onna Screen Porch.

There could be Catz sumwheres. (Dis issa fing dat will allus upset Missy!)

You just nebber know whut it is gonna be nextest, but you can be sure dat it is gonna be sumfing. 

And you know how it goes:

Wun momint you hab Happy Bunnies, anna nextest: 

Thump!

And there goes da hoomin day, shot to pieces, all onna'count obba Fakt dat you now hab Disapproving Rabbits on your hands and YOU hab to do sumfing to fix whutebber fing has caused da Disapproval inna furst place. 

Because that's da Furst Rool inna Bunny Bill ob Rites: Da Bunny Is Allus Rite. No Exceptions. 

Which means dat Missy is allus rite.

Now da Catz anna Dawg say dat dis is somehow unFair wif alla dis. But Our Warren says it is fundamentally Fair, onna'count obba Fakt dat we were heer Furst. 

Which is Troo.

Bunnies are allus Furst. 

So just be careful dat alla fings around you are going as they should - because da last fing you wanna add to your day issa Bunch ob Disapproving Rabbits.

 Hab a nice day!

--------------------- By George

George's Eighth Strand; Day Number 3
Now Playing: Dawg Days

 

Well, dis shuldn't be happinin, but it is.

Maman says it is nobun's fault, but dat we shuld somehow blame it onna "Dawg Days ob Summer".

But not Our Dawg. Onna'count obba Fakt dat Da Dawg didn't do ennyfing specifically, hextcept be around as he usuahlly is, onna'count ob this is whut he does.

It is Just Dawgs, in general.

Or sumfing.

So ennyways... 

Maman's 'puter died - mainly ob course onna'count ob her helping it onwards towards a more natchural kinda death by writing buks onnit (she hassa huge projeckt going dat we, Alla Us Togedder don't unnerstand, but it has to do wif a lotta stuff) - and Phil-da-Lad and his Compiny hadda order pawts for it THREE times bifore the compiny he ordered dem frum sent him a pawt dat wasn't (as he sed) "Messed up frumma get-go"

And dat made Maman get all antsy and stawt saying fings wike, "Wookit, you two (meaning Dadda and Phil, since dey is bof Engineers but dif'frunt kinds) don't get dis 'puter fixed, and I'm gonna buy myself dat noo laptop!"

And da two ob dem running around glaring. 

And den dere was Sistah Beffy going, "Yeah, Mom, you do dat!"

Onna'count obba Fakt dat Beffy is allus going to say stuff and den laff, cos she likes reactions.

And Dadda going, "Now waidaminit."

And Phil going, "Wookit, I'm not buying dat pawt, I'm buying a bedder wun and to heck wif dem!"

And Dadda still going, "Waidaminit" only nobunny was listening onna'count obba Fakt dat it is wike ahunnert degrees outside and nobunny wants to hear ennyfing ennyways. 

Which caused no end ob Argument around heer in Our Warren wif mainly ebberbunny yellin' at ebberbun else.

And dis is called Family Drama. Maman says we gots no end ob Family Drama around heer.

And so there's us bunnies sittin' atta Screen Porch Door wundering Whydaheck we can't go out inna BunPen onna Screen Porch for playtimes. Cos dis playing inna Sitting Room stinks.

Maman says dat it is Too Hot onna Screen Porch now, ebben atta Dark.

Is dis onna'count obba Fakt dat she is crabby or is dis Troo?

So we axted da Dawg, who goes out innu da Back Gardin alla time, cos apparently he hassa pootie box out dere sumwheres. 

Anna Dawg sed dat it is Wicked Hot outside whin da Sun is out.

So, I'm like, "Well, whut aboud whin da sun is down?"

Anna Dawg says, "Well, it issn't too bad whinna sun is down, but it's a wot wike trying to suck in air fru a wet baf flannel."

And Clover wrinkled up her nose and went, "Ewwww!"

And Mr Mouse sed, "Dere is no point in going out in dat."

And Beebe-Bunny!! sed, "Dat's all berry well for you to say, cos you wint in to see Law & Order wif Maman."

"Yeah," sed Mouse. "But it wassn't on. Maman sed sumfing aboud 'reruns' and back I came toda BunRoom, so dat preddy much messed dat up."

And dat's aboud whinna Fat-Cat showed up.

And he was all unhappy onna'count obba Fakt dat he couldn't go outside onna Screen Porch eidder. So he sat down beside da door and stawted complainin' about how catz, in general, are descended frum desserted annymuls and can take da heat.

And MissyBun, who hates all catz, told him dat if he was gonna keep dat biznizz up, it was no wunder dat he had bin desserted and Maman and Sistah Beffy had hadda rescue his sorry, fuzzy rear-sekshuns frumma shelter inna Furst Place.

Ebberybun has bin getting short-tempered around heer, Lemme tell you!

So Missy was paradin' backwards and forwards, wookin' for a way to grab da cat-tail dat was wavin' around just outta her reach (cos she can do dat, you know. She oncet gotta-hold ob KayCee's cat-tail, pulled it right fru da habbytat and was inna process ob pulling KayCee-Kitty on fru, too, whin Maman stopped her and her big paddle-feets!) and she was stomping onna'count obba Fakt dat she couldn't gedda grip.

And Maman was all outta sorts onna'count obba Fakt dat she was not being able to use her 'puter at all. But she was doing a lot ob reading and writing on tablit wiffa pen which were strewn all ober da houz.

And Dadda was 'noyed onna'count obba Fakt dat he and Phil was habbin' to pack up and ship back alla da not-werkin' pawts, and habbin' to share his 'puter and not being able to werk on-line wif Maman, wike they usually do, which is Togedder.

And it is was just gen'rally hot and mis'rable outside and we couldn't go for Our Warren's playtime out onna Screen Porch! 

So ebberybunny is preddy crabby, Maman says.

And it is all onna'count obba Fakt dat dees are da Dawg Days ob Summer.

Yeah!

So we're blaming it onna Dawg!

Yeah.

And, at least da catz are satisfied.

--------------- By George 

George's Seventh Strand;Day Number 15
Now Playing: Our Noo Cuzzin!

 

See?

Sucker lights are infectious.

Yeah!

And at long last, we hab discovered dat they are spread byda wearing ob hats.

Auntie Grace let her daughter, Kaatie, wear wunna her hats, and Guess Whut? Kattie Rescued  Our Noo Cuzzin.

And this is her pikchur.

Auntie Grace calls dis bunny a "cow bunny" which is not quite fair, as she also usta call Our Belinda Bunny a "Cow Bunny", too, which made Belinda preddy upset.  But, then preddy much ennyfing Belinda didn't like tended to make her upset and dere were a lotta fings Belinda didn't like so she was upset preddy much all obba time, if you axt me, but Maman says dis is Normal for Inwish Spot Bunnies mainly onna'count obba Fakt dat dey are allus In Charge ob Ebberyfing.

Ennyways, dis Noo Cuzzin is diff'runt. She gives kisses, for Wun Fing, and this is important. Ebberybunny wikes bunny-kisses. (Belinda usta give Maman bunny-kisses, but only Maman. This bunny is more genny'rus.) 

Now, the Bestest Noos in alla dis, ob course, issat Anudder Bunny Has Been Rescued! And dis bunny is now gonna be a houserabbit forebber in her very own Forevery Home.

But da Udder Good Noos issat da discovery dat Sucker Lights are Infectious! Anna Discovery dat they can be transmitted from hoomin to hoomin byda wearing ob HATS as has bin prooven byda Fakt dat Kaati has nebber rescued a bunny on her own before! This wassa first time dat Kaati seed a Bunny OnAlone, dis time assa Child Photographer's Prop, and went all on her Onliest toda Rescue! And while Kaati was wearing Auntie Grace's hat, she piked up Dis Bunny and sed (wif her Sucker Light shining brightly!):

"Oh no! Dis bunny is coming home wif me!" 

 And when Kaati taked offa hat she was still saying da same fing! So now we hab discovered dat Kaati now has a Sucker Light because she was wearing Auntie Grace's HAT!

Now we know how Sucker Lights are transmitted from hoomin-to-hoomin!

We're talking hoomin-to-hat-to-hoomin transferral, folks!

Yeah!

And Dis just In: Da Bunny's Name is Desdemona, and she will be known as "Desi" - onna'count obba Fakt dat she issa Classic and she issa Moovie Star Bunny!

So there you are! You hab alla latest Noos and Infortymayshun aboudda Rescue and aboudda Sucker Lights and aboud ebberyfing... 

Oh, and I almost fortygot to add in Our Warren's Latest Noos (but it is thundering out and so I gotta post dis inna hurry!):

Our Beffy is pregnant. She's s'sposed to habba babby sumtime near da End ob January or da Beginning ob February.

And so before Maman knowed ennyfing aboudda "Transmission Obba Sucker Lights" or ebben dat dey were Infectious, Maman let Our Sista Beffy try on wunna Maman's Noo Hats... and Maman has dis very strong Sucker Light...

----------------By George
 

 

George's (Clover's) Seventh Strand; Day Number 10
Now Playing: Clover Tells The Truth

Maman always says, “The Truth will out.”

And this is generally true, so long as someone bothers to Tell The Truth.

Now I am going to tell you The Truth: I am not George. I am Ms Clover and I am half Inkwish Spot (See these ears?) and we always tell The Truth.

Bunnies are very honest creatures and Inkwish Spots are the most honest bunnies going.

But back to “What Maman said.”

Just listening to hoomins over my five years, I have learned that they make The Truth sound unattractive. They call it “plain” or “unvarnished”, like it is a work-in-progress that still needs to have its decorations put on. Only in Courts of Law on tellyvision shows, like Mr Mouse's Law & Order, is The Truth called Whole or Vital like it is enough in and of itself to stand up on its own hind legs. But mostly when The Truth goes out walking out on its own – and it rarely does because it is not attractive at all - it is always “ugly” or at the very most, “basic.”

I have found that Hoomins, in general, don’t like The Truth. Given a choice between The Truth and Something Else, they will take the Something Else and believe it for preference. They always seem to feel that The Truth is “naked” and needs to be dressed up before it can come out.

So it seems around here in this carefully cryptic township where only the locals can pronounce it’s name (and that’s another conceit they cherish!). They really don’t like it when there’s “simple” Truth.

Someone doesn’t answer their door when the bin-men knock in the morning.

The lady living there is known not to go out very much, and her back door is open to the screen, but the front door is shut and it’s screen is locked. The car is gone from the drive. The resident Dawg barks, but No One comes to the door.

Well, isn’t the bin-man just angry? There is stuff at the kerb he doesn’t wish to take. It’s for another bin-man to take, but never mind – he is angry and he must say something in loud tones, using words such as obviously the “stupid, crazy, uppity, foreign bitch” who lives in the house, who “pretends” she’s some kind of “royalty” and keeps “all kinds of animals in there” (oh yes, and dark mutters about the legality of that!) and “couldn’t wait for her parents to die so she could take over that house” with her “foreign husband” she married in Europe after “running off and leaving her husband and kids here”…

And yes, that’s what is said and of course it is just all eaten up with a spoon in the hair salons and post offices and little gossip shops in the unpronounceable little township because “a lie can run around the world seven times before The Truth can get its boots on.” as Terry Prachett said in one of his wonderful books sitting on the shelves in Our Sitting Room.

But there is no blame, because, after all, who can be blamed for telling what they heard?

Because who is to say? If there is no one to home, and no one to hear the somethings a bin-man might, perhaps, have said that were overheard from someone else in some shop or another, and is now complaining about over the rubbish left at the kerb for some other bin-man.

As the Dawg said, it’s enough to make you want to bite someone!

But Maman says to us, “The Truth will out.” and says nothing at all to anyone else.

But I am half Inkwish Spot (You will notice my ears, please!) and I don’t believe in lies and I always tell The Truth because it is Whut We Do!

And I think, as I sit in my habbytat and meddytate while my fur sheds – which it is doing because it does and this is not my fault! - I think that hoomins don’t spread around The Truth because it is so much more Fun to believe in Something Else.

You will notice that the Something Else always is dressed up, like that Buk the Da Vinci Code, in fancy colours and Someone Else’s Imagination so that it has lots of levers and bits.

But Maman will not tell anything she might have heard because she believes in The Truth winning out. After all, since no one answered the banging at the door when no one rang the bell and everything that said was said in a group, with words meant to be overheard but not to be blamed, so that they cannot be said to have come from This Person or That Person. So there is no blame, because, after all, the words could have come from Anyone or No One or were Never Said At All because there was No One to Hear, or Something Else.

Isn’t it always the way?

But Maman says, ”The Truth will out.”

But I think that Hoomins love any Truth much better when it is dressed up into a story that is total Fiction - which is always Entertaining and never True - whereas The Truth often isn’t very Entertaining all on its own. Which is what makes the Something Else so attractive – it’s All Dressed Up in pretty, shiny things that catch the Wandering Attention of the "Easily Distracted".

And since it’s the "Easily Distracted" who have All the Time in the World to hang around the hair salons, post offices and little shops in this unpronounceable little township that glories in its obscurity, unpronounceable-ness and other little conceits (because it has no bigger ones of which to boast), who are attracted to the pretty, glittery Somethings Else and who grab on to them because they have so many more little moving parts and levers than the “plain” and “unvarnished” Truth.

Which is how it comes about that long after the Bin-men are gone, that a man can walk into a little shop and how a Woman (because she can’t be a Lady!) can ask him if he is the man who married “that woman” and call her by a name not her own, and describe “that woman” as the “woman” who “ran away and left her family” so she could “find 'true' romance in Inkland”.

And how that Woman (Because no Lady would ask such a question!) came to be so shocked and surprised when that man informed her that it was none of her business to ask such questions!

And that’s how that Woman (Who couldn’t possibly be a Lady!) went back behind her counter and came to say very loudly that Our Dadda was a Very Rude Man, which just demonstrates her belief in compounded Somethings Else that are not The Truth. The Truth is that Dadda is a Gentleman who does not deal in Gossip and adheres strongly to The Truth and that he has The Right to defend his Lady, who is Our Maman.

As for that Woman, well, no Lady (in the true sense of the word) trades in Gossip, after all.

And so she continues to believe in Something Else.

As does the Bin-man, when The Other Bin-man came ‘round directly and collected all the rubbish of which the first one complained.

Because The Truth is all too Easy for some hoomins, so it must be wrong.

And this is another hoomin conceit, like the others that govern this bitter little township, that: anything Convoluted is Intellectually superior to that which is Simple and straightforward.

And it is a conceit that infects schools and universities, and has found its way into the popular imagination. The conceit states: “if something seems too simple and direct, it must be wrong”. Better to go by the difficult, demanding, more impossible road than to take the broad and straight way to the Top of the Mountain. Believing the Convoluted Lie makes some hoomins believe they appear intellectually superior to others. Ask any conspiracy theorist; they express pity for the inferior mass of mortals who think they are alarmist idiots.

Rabbits are not such dumb bunnies that we believe this drivel (You do notice my Inkwish Spot ears!)

Life is not easy for a prey animal so there is no need to make it more difficult than it is already. If something seems easy, then go by that way – unless there is a clear, visible danger. Take the easiest, most direct path available. If there is a rock in the way, go around it: why incur extra digging? Is there a tree on the path? Make a burrow in its roots, and thank God that it is there!

But make no mistake: there is no mystery to be made of the origins the Tree in the Path. A tree has grown up and so a burrow is dug. There is no Lore in this. Where the True Lore lies is in the preservation of the memory of Those Who Came Before, who dug that Burrow Beneath the Tree On the Pathway, and made A Haven where Some Were Given Shelter.

There are True Mysteries in Life without having to create them out of a fabric of lies. The Truth in its plain, unvarnished state is fantastic in itself. The Truth is beautiful. Finding it is Interesting. It is The Journey that is amazing.

And All Bunnies, especially those of us who are Inkwish Spot Bunnies, (note the ears, please!), understand this.

---------------------By Clover

George's Seventh Strand: Day Number 8
Now Playing: Nuffin' Going On 'Round Heer

Rabbits do not grow old, they just grow ‘Tellygint.

This is whut me,Hunny told me a long time ago, when he wassa Top Bun and I wassa berry small Youngbun who was Newly Arrived at Our Warren.

And ebber since he telled me dis I have deddykated my whole life to growing ’Tellygint so that I can someday become like me,Hunny, who wassa Most ‘Tellygint Housebunny I Hab Ebber Knowed.

So da Udder Day, Mr Mouse waked uppa Whole Houz by *THUMPING* rilly LOUD.

Now I hab to ’Splain sumfing to you:

All bunnies can *THUMP* and they usually do it to warn udder bunnies dat dere is Danger.

And usually da bigger da bunny, da bigger da bunny feets and da LOUDER da bunny can *Thump*.

Now if dis was Entirely Troo, I, George, would be da Loudest Boy-Bun Thumper Inna Warren. Onna’count obba Fakt dat I amma biggest Boy-Bunny in Our Warren and hab da Biggest Bunny Feets.

Howebber…

I lib inna same habbytat wif MissyBun Hawpa, a Gurl-bun ob Genny’rous Proporshuns. (In udder words, One BIG Bunny-Gurl! Yeah!) And whin dis chick is lying down, she can soak uppa lotta vibrations, which kinda puts a damper on my Thumper LOUDNESS Faktor.

And Beebe-Bunny!! libs wif Ms Clover (formerly ob Da Herd) who is also a Gurl-bun ob Genny-rous Proporshuns (or anudder one ob those BIG Bunny-Gurls! Lemme tell you!) Which also puts a damper on Beebe’s Thumper LOUDNESS Faktor, onna’count obba Fakt dat her reclining inna same habbytat as him soaks uppa lotta Thump-vibrations.

Soda upshot ob alla dis issat neither Beebe-Bunny!! nor I (George) can *THUMP* as Loudly as we rilly can onna’count obba Fakt dat we hab Natchural Handycaps inna persons ob our Wifebunnies.

In Fakt if my Missus, MissyBun or Ms Clover takes it innu dere heds to *THUMP*, then Beebe and I end up flying up-inna-air frumma sheer force obba Thumps.

Cos bof Missy and Clover hab paddle-feets and when they slam those paddlefeets down, you’ll see eidder Beebe or me go sialing up-inna-air and den come down wiffa *bang* - which is NO FUN!, lemme tell you!

But Mr Mouse issa Bachelor Bunny and libs on his own in his Berry Own Habbytat inna Bun Room.

Here issa pikchur ob his habbytat when the Bun Room was Noo and we had just Moobed In, before there were enny toys or Fings. And dis udder pikchur is ob Our Habbytats also when They Were Noo before we got alla our crocks, wadder bowls, Toys and Fings like we hab Now. (Maman says dat we hab far too menny Fings and dat we rilly need to do a “Clean Out” one ob dees days. But she is allus saying dat.)

But because Mr Mouse lives in His Own Habbytat, dere is no udder bunny to soak up enny ob his *THUMP*-vibrayshuns. So when he *Thumps*, he can *THUMP!* and make it Stick.

Which is how he can wake uppa Whole Houz like he did da Udder Day.

So it was wike about Sbben O’Clock, and Mr Mouse is wike, “Where are dey?”

And I’m wike, “Where’s who?”

And Mr Mouse is wike, “Maman and Dadda. Dey are usually awake and outta da BedRoom by now.”

And da Sun is shining in through the Our Warren Memorial Window and MissyBun and I are habbing some hay left ober frum Last Nite, and I’m thinking to myself dat Mr Mouse is right – Maman and Dadda shuld be awake and feeding us by now.

And frum Uppastairs inna Study, I can hear Da Catz protesting dat da Door is shut and dat dey want to come down and go out onna Screen Porch, which is where they usually go inna Morning so dat dey can watch da Birds and pretend dat dey are Fierce, Wild, Hungree Catz instead obba Couple ob Lazy, Couch-potato, Hungree Catz.

And I realised dat Da Dawg was missing.

So I sed to Mouse, “Whut’s happened to Da Dawg?”

And Mouse sed, “I dunno, but da Sun is shining and dere’s Nuffin Going On Around Heer and dere Shuld Be.”

And MissyBun is wike, “So whuttaheck are you gonna do aboudda'Fakt dat dere isNuffin Going On?”

And Clover is wike, “Well, whutebber you do abouddit, make shure dat we ged sum treats outta it. I’ve had just aboud alla hay and pellets dat I kin take for One Morning.”

And she snorted which is Clover’s way ob saying dat she’s getting ‘nnoyed wif fings. And since Clover is at least half Inkwish Spot it issn’t wise to let her get too ‘nnoyed wif fings.

So Mouse settles himself down inna corner ob his habbytat and says, “Watch dis.”

And he lets go wif a good, solid *THUMP* that rattles his wadder crock and toys and ebberyfing.

And den he lets go wif anudder.

And anudder.

And we can hear Da Dawg inna Bed Room and he’s wike, “Whuttaheck?”

So Mouse lets go wiffa’nudder *THUMP* that preddy much rattles da Our Warren Memorial Winder.

And den I hear Maman’s voice and she’s wike, “Brian! Brian! Wake up! There’s something the matter with the bunnies!”

And Mouse gibs an’udder, rilly good *THUMP!*

And Missy is wike, “Ouick! Ebberybun lie down! Stretch out dose feets!”

So Clover and Missy lie down and stretch out, and Beebe runs ober toda pellet-crock and grabs a mouf-full ob pellets and starts chewing. And I grab a strand ob hay and start chewing on dat.

And Mr Mouse gibs one more, habbytat-rattling *THUMP* and settles down.

And here comes Maman wif her slippers flapping, and she's pulling on her bafrobe, and her hair's all ober da place. Anna Dawg is bouncing along b’side her, getting in her way, and Dadda’s coming along behind her in his bare feets, pulling on his bloo bafrobe and trying to get it tied as he goes.

Anna Dawg bounces innu da Bun Room and starts snuffling at our Habbytats and Maman follows in afta him and starts yelling at him to “Stop it, Marc!” atta same time as Dadda’s trying to getta look in and axting us, “Whuttsamatta, bunnies?”

So Maman goes right on through Da Bun Room, opins da Door Toda Back Gardin and pushes Da Dawg outta Door. Den she turns and wooks at us. And Dadda is standing inna doorway, wooking at us.

And Dadda says, “Whuttaheck issa matter wif you bunnies?”

And Missy is lounging and Clover is lounging; and Beebe and I are eating and Mr Mouse is just sitting there with his ears pointed forward.

And Maman is like, “There’s nothing going on!”

And Dadda comes and looks at Alla Us Togedder one-atta-time, and he axts,

“All right. Who was *Thumping*?”

Like we’re going to jump right up and answer that one.

And Dadda says to Maman, “Everybun looks all right. Nobun looks sick or in any kind of distress. Look at Missy.”

“She couldn’t be more relaxed.” Says Maman. “Look at Clover.”

And Clover waggles her ears and looks meaningfully at her treat-bowl.

“She just wants raisins.” Says Dadda.

“She always wants raisins.” Says Maman. “But she wasn’t the one who *thumped*. If Clover *thumps*, Beebe ends up in a heap, and he’s standing over there, eating pellets like nothing’s happened.”

And Beebe looks up wif his mouf full and says, “Yo?”

“And it wasn’t George or Missy who *thumped,*” says Dadda. “So that leaves Mouse.”

And Mouse just sits there and looks Dadda right inna eyeball.

And Maman just throws up her hands and walks fru da Bun Room innu da Kitchin and she says as she’s going fru,

“I don’t get it. What was all the *thumping* about? It’s seven o’clock in the morning and there’s nothing wrong. I just don’t get it!”

But we do.

It’s sebben o’clock inna morning and dere's Nuffin' Going On 'Round Heer!

---------------------------- By George

Posted by Our Warren at 12:54 PM EDT

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George's Seventh Strand: Day Number 4
Now Playing: HOPPY BIRFDAY TO US!

Once upon a time when the day called “the 4th of July” rolled around, many years ago when Our Warren's me,Hunny was a relatively young-bun of five, the person me,Hunny decided was called "Our Maman" came into the "kitchin" and declared:

"Today is Tristan's Birthday!"

Now Tristan was the Ancient Dog of Our Warren and he was a Basset Hound with short, thick legs, long, droopy ears, and very dark, soulful eyes.

He had been the Very First to be adopted into Our Warren long years before, when Sistah Beffy was a little girl and Phil-da-Lad was still no more than a baby. So he had lived at Our Warren for a very long time, much longer than either Heatherington, the black-and-white Dutch Bunny, or me,Hunny who was a Tri-coloured miniLop.

And me,Hunny asked the Ancient Dog, who was 12 years old back then (which was in 1997), "Whut's a
'birfday'?"

"It's sumfing you hab written on your 'doption papers." sighed Tristan. Basset Hounds usually sigh when they are questioned by rabbits.

"But I don't hab enny 'doption papers." said me,Hunny, doubtfully. "The Maman-wady just taked me frumma 'Horrible Man' afta she threw dose 'munny'-paper fings at him. She was too mad to axt him for enny 'doption papers, I guess. So I s'spose I don't habba 'birfday'."

And the Ancient Dog lifted his large, broad head and appeared to think.

"Well," he said after a few minutes. "Ebberybunny is supposed to habba Birfday, I fink. It is kind of, sort of your own ‘peshul Day Obba Year. You are s’sposed to get treats."

"Well, we bunnies allus get treats, wike grapes and raisins and sometimes a slice ob ‘nanner - just wike you get dose Milk-Bone Dawg-Biscuits ebbery nite. But I don’t habba ‘peshul Day Obba Year, I don’t fink." Replied me,Hunny, his Loppy ears drooping even more. “Mebbe I’m not ‘peshul cos I hab no ‘doption papers.”

"If it makes you feel enny bedder," Piped up Heatherington, the black and white Dutch bunny who lived in the habitat next door to me,Hunny. “*I* don't hab no 'Birfday' eidder. Pet shops don't gib out 'doption papers wif bunnies and dat’s where Maman found me - sittin’ inna horribul widdle tank surrounded by cedar shavings, gasping for air!"

“Mebbe Birfdays are just Wun More Fing dat bunnies don’t seem to hab.” Said me,Hunny, sadly. “So few good homes, so few nice hoomins, and no birfdays, eidder.”

And the Ancient Dog was quiet for another extended period, which the two bunnies took to mean that he was once again engaged in what passed for "Deep Thought" in Basset Hound Dogs.

And then Tristan said, "Well, hokay. I amma Big Dog wiffa Lotta Birfdays behind me, so I guess dat means dat I hab lots obb'em to share. So frum now on, when I habba Birfday - which is allus onna 4th ob Jooly - ebberybunny in Our Warren will also habba Birfday. Howzzat, Bunnyrabbits? We will all share One Birfday in Our Warren."

So, from then on, everybun in Our Warren - bunnies, kitties and the Ancient Dog - all celebrated the 4th of July as their very own Birfday, with special treats and a pawtee and lots of extra hugs and pats "alla'round."

Tristan, The Ancient Dog, (who was, indeed, a Basset Hound) left for the Rainbow Bridge in 2003 at the advanced age of 18 years old; Heatherington, the feisty black-and-white Dutch bunny began his journey to the Rainbow Bridge in 2000 at the age of 9. And me,Hunny, the Tricolour miniLop, the *SeniorBun* of Our Warren saw Thirteen-and-a-Half Birfdays before he also left us to follow down the road that leads to the Rainbow Bridge, in 2005.

But we still celebrate everybun's "Birfday" on July 4th - every bunny, kitty and Dawg who has ever come to share their lives with us at Our Warren.

And when we got the 'doption papers for Zachary-Marcus, Border-Collie, didn't we just find listed under "birthday:" - yes, exactly! - "4th of July"!

So it's a very, special, lucky day here in Our Warren - and all because Tristan, the Ancient Dog began the tradition with "lots to share."

---------------- Hoppy Birfday to Ebberybun in Our Warren!

George's Seventh Strand: Day Number 3
Now Playing: Fireworks!

Hullo again!

Furst, I wanna wish Ebberybunny a berry Hoppy and Safe HOLLYDAY!

Yeah!

Hoppy 4th of July!

May your day be filled with thoughts ob freedom, accomplishment, quiet pride, generosity, and lots ob respect for ebberywun you know!

And please bemember alla Our Young Hoomins who are serving inna Armed Services all ober da Werld, tomorrow, too! Please be proud ob dem, and if you see wun in unnyform, go up to dem, shake dere hand and Fank Dem For Serving!

Don’t go all stoopit weepy on’em, just Fank dem. Onna’count obba Fakt dat dey are following inna Tradition Obba Continental Army by volunteering for dooty.

Sekond I wanna wish Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren a Bunderful Hoppy Birfday! tomorrow, too!

Hoppy Birfday to Us!

And onna’count obba Fakt it is going to be Our Birfday I habba ‘speshually alreddy-typed-up blog entry to stick in for tomorrow so I don’t gotta write it on my Birfday. I’ll just stick it in and post it tomorrow, hokay?

Great!

Third I wanna mention da whoebber is setting off dose BIG, LOUD Firecrackers dat are shaking dis Houz and skerring Maman, and worrying Da Dawg are rilly a whole bunch ob selfish, stoopit JERKS!

Don’t they know it is against da ROOLZ to hab firecrackers?
Don’t they know dat it is DANGEROUS to be playing wif firecrackers?
Don’t they know how SELFISH it is to go boddering ebberybunny else just to make a lotta noise?

Our Maman is sik wiffa Migraine and she hasta take meddysin tiday. She was trying to sleep, ‘cept dat ebbery thirty minits or so, dere wuld be dis horrible, Big, Huge – BANG! - like sumbunny exploding da Houz, anna Dawg wuld bark, anna Catz wuld skerry and Alla Us Togedder wuld - THUMP! -
And Maman’s hed wuld just hurt worse and worse.

Now I fink it is just TOO BAD when sum hoomins fink dey are bedder denna ROOLS. Dey fink datta “Democracy” means dat dey ONLY hab to follow da ROOLS dat dey wants, wike when it comes to firecrackers.

Just because they want fireworks, they go and get fireworks, ebben though fireworks are against the ROOLZ in Noo Joisey.

These hoomins fink dey are bedder denna ROOLZ.

Well, Maman says that they don’t have to live in Noo Joisey, eidder. If they want fireworks so much then they should leave heer and go live swumwhere’s else where fireworks are legal.

“Democracy” Maman says, is about having “free choice” and dat includes da “free choice” to go lib sumwhere udder hoomins fink alike, not in making ebberybunny fink da same as one hoomin.

Besides, dere is gonna be a Free Fireworks Show put on for ebberybunny atta skool accrost da street tomorry night. It’s going to be paid for byda Township put on by REAL professional pyrotechnical engineering hoomins (and not sum Jerk wiffa ciggyret) anna Free Fireworks Show is gonna feature da kind of fireworks only REAL professionals can buy – bigger, and much bedder den da widdle firecrackers dis local JERK is using to torment the Neighbourhood, werry Da Dawg, upset da Catz, make Maman’s hed hurt and make Us – Thump!.

And lemme tell you, if Maman culd figger out which houz da Selfish JERK libbed in, she’d calla Police. Inna heartbeat So they could arrest dat person for ignoring Da ROOLZ.

(Anna person finks dey are SO SMART, too, by setting offa big bangs about thirty minits apart, so nobun can figgerout where dat houz is! If he keeps bodderin da neighbourhood, sumbun will take da time and trubble to hunt da JERK'S Houz down.)

Almost invariably, Dadda says, JERKS wike dat are habbin’ pawtees, wif lots of noise, beer, lines ob cars, beer, grill-smoke, and beer. The kinds of hoomins who leeb cans behind in your gutter afta they’ve climbed outta it.

So mebbe dis JERK can ged arrested, and taken down toda station, and den hab to pay a fine and help make nextest year's 4th ob July Free Fireworks Show atta skool ebben bedder!

------------------ By George

George's Seventh Strand: Day Number One
Now Playing: Obsessions


And I’m back.

So tiday Cokie-da-Fat comes Downnastairs and complains to Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren,

“Da Dawg libs.”

And I’m wike, “And, um, dis is noo, hextactly, how? Da Dawg has bin libbin’ heer ever since we moobed in.”

And Cokie says, “Hextactly. And he’s still libbin’ heer, which issa Effruntery To Catz!”

And Clover pipes up and says, “Yeah, and Dadda just told you to ‘Ged ober it’ again, just wike he did yestidday whin you sedda same fing. So whut else is noo, Cat?”

And Cokie just glared at Clover and wint on out onna Screen Porch to tell Beep-da-Udder-Cat to “moob it, Sistah” becos she was sitting in “his” sunbeam. Whut Beep told him is not fit to be printed in dis Blog. But she moobed it, ennyways, onna’count obba Fakt dat Cokie was in his normal Morning Bad Mood, which is preddy normal, considering he issa Cat.

So denna Dawg came fundering Downnastairs and he’s all happy-stoopit, mainly onna’count obba Fakt dat he issa Border-Collie-Wif-Sumfing-to-Do. Gib dees guys a Job and dey are happy-for-Life, I fink.

“Dadda and I are gonna werk inna Gardin!” he woofs, standing atta Back Door, wif his butt wiggling, he’s so happy.

Which just goes to show you how little it takes to make a Border-Collie even stoopiter than they are alreddy.

And den Maman comes Downnastairs frumma Study and she’s gotta buk and a bottle of stinky stuff dat’s for her fingernails.

Now you gotta unnerstand dat Maman has dis fing about her fingernails. Alla her life, she says, she had “Ugly Fingernails” onna’count obba Fakt dat she played da ’sello (big fing wif strings onnit dat libs inna Lounge-Where-We-Do-Not-Go) and now dat she can’t play, her fingernails don’t grow rite. So she takes dem to a Groomer to be made nice. She says dis is her “One fashion indulgence.” and she and Auntie Grace talk abouddit onna tellyphone sumtimes, onna’count obba Fakt dat Auntie Grace has dis fing aboud her fingernails, too.

But dis last Groomer where Maman went to hab her fingernails made nice, didn’t do a good job, and now Maman has these bottles of Stinky Stuff to take her nails off. She says it will be a “Long Process” and a “Smelly Process” and she’s whining aboud “Alla Time” it is going to take.

And she ebben had Dadda go to sum kinda store to buy these speshul bottles of Stinky Stuff for her to take off the nails the Groomer had done for her.

So Maman comes Downnastairs frumma Study and she looks around the Bun Room where I’m sitting heer, cleaning my toes.

And she takes a wook at me and she says, “George Bunny, you are obsessed with your Toes!”

And put down my foot and sit there, and I’m wike, “Whuttaheck?”

And she’s standing there in her Bafrobe, wif her bottles of Stinky Stuff and her Buk, and her hair wrapped up inna striped towel wif her Flippy-flops on.

So she puts alla her stuff down onna Washing Machine inna corner byda Back Door toda Gardin and she comes over and starts wooking at MY FEETS!

And den she goes ober to Clover and Beebe’s and starts wooking at THEIR FEETS!

And afta that she goes and hassa wook at Mouse’s FEETS!

So we’re ALL inna UPROAR!

All onna’count obba Fakt dat NOBUNNY is s’sposed to be wooking atta Bunny's Feets except DA BUNNY DA FEETS BELONGS TO!

And den Maman says, “You guys.”

And she shakes her hed (which is wrapped up inna pastel-stripped towel!).

“You all need your nails trimmed.”

And MissyBun is wike, “Oh NO Wady! Pull da udder one, it has bells on! MY nails, I’ll trim’em, Fank Yoo!”

And she follows dat up wiffa rilly big, Missy-sized THUMP which makes me fly up-inna-air and land down again.

I wish she wouldn’t do that!

Then Clover starts to shiver, onna’count obba Fakt dat she doesn’t wike to be piked Up.

And Beebe start strutting, onna’count obba Fakt that he issa Nethy Dwarf and Nutz, and he finks sumbun is alreddy “Messing Wif His Wommin” and he’s gonna Defend Her.

And dat’s Beebe’s Widdle Fantasy which we let him hab onna’count obba Fakt dat we can’t ged him to Ged Ober It.

And Mouse is sitting inna corner wif his butt against da side obba Habbytat, just basically grunting and daring Maman to come and get him for a nail trim. Becos he knows she’ll send Dadda (who is currently Out Inna Gardin riding onna Tractor and yelling atta Dawg to “Ger’outta it!” – whutebber dat means. I fink it means Da Dawg is somehow behaving daft and/or stoopit - no s’sprise there. But since Dadda currently sounds angry, I’m not gonna axt too menny Questions ebben whin he comes back inna Houz.)

Den Maman blinks a second or two and hassa widdle fink and says, “Wookit, I’ll do my nails furst. Then we’ll worry about bunny-nails. Howzzat?”

And becos we know dat Maman hassa rilly bad short-term memory, we just sit there and appear not to listen.

So she goes out onna Screen Porch wiffa Catz and her bottles of smelly stuff and her Buks.

And just for da Rekord, I am NOT “obsessed” wif my TOES!

----------------- By George (now returning to cleaning MY toes!)

Posted by Our Warren at 11:28 AM EDT

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