Every now and then, you get disgusted with polly-ticians, you know?

Either they write the wrong laws that only benny-fit themselves or their friends, or else they're doing selfish things or running nasty 'lekshun campeigns to get Votes. Or sumfing.

And just when you fink they can't do ennyfing good, then along comes this Gov. Ed Rendell and his wife, Judge Marjorie Rendell to change up your mind.

They wanted anudder dog to be a Companion Animal to their five year-old dog, Ginger. So they 'dopted Maggie, a dog who was living in a shelter!

Yeah!

They rescued a dog! They gave a nice dog a Second Chance at having a Forever Home!

Now this Gov. Ed Rendell might not be the Best Polly-tician inna Werld, but he and his wife, Judge Marjorie Rendell, have their hearts in the Right Places!

And you get the feeling that Judge Marjorie Rendell is sorta the last judge that horrible-Michael-Vick-guy would want to come before, to hear whut his sentance was gonna be! As it is, he is gonna come before a Judge who hassa liddle fluff-ball obba doggie, and hoomins seem to be tired of making hextcuses for these over-paid sports-playing' barbarians.

You can read about Maggie and Ginger, the First Dogs of Pennsylvania in today's Philadelphia Inquirer by clicking here. 

And here is Bright Spot in Sports that I want to bring to your 'Tention! Not ALL Sports players are overpaid barbarians. There are sum Good Hoomins Who Play Wif Balls and wun of them is Chase Utley of the Philadelphia Phillies!

But Furst is the Bad Part of the story:

A nice lady was walking home frum somewheres in Philadelphia when she came upon a group of boys beating up a poor young boxer-cross puppy. They had thrown gasoline on it and set it on fire! As Maman says, "Bastards."

So ennyways, the lady scared off the boys and grabbed the poor puppy and called the Pennsylvaina SPCA for help.

Now please note that the SPCA is not a National Anti-Cruelty Enforcement Agency, although it should be! It is a private charity that runs strictly on donations and assistance frumma public! (That would be YOU.) Every SPCA is on it's own!

So ennyways, when this poor liddle puppy was brought into the PA-SPCA, Jennifer Utley, the wife of Phillies Second-baseman, Chase Utley, saw her and right away offered to take care of alla her v-e-t and re-hab bills, and offered a Reward for the capture and prosecution of the horrible hoomins who hurt this poor doggie!

You can read about this poor, young doggie at NBC10 here and here at the Philadelphia Inquirer. And you can read about the Pennsylvania SPCA by clicking here!

So here are Bright Spots in the Mid-Atlantic Metro-Area - the Rendells and the Utleys; one family is in polly-tics and the other is in professional sports, but both families are making a diffrence in Aminals' lives, by Adopting and Rescuing.

Of course, reg'lar hoomins 'dopt and rescue, too. Maman and Dadda rescued Alla Us Togedder from all over, and they rescued Both Catz and they Adopted Marc-the-Border-Collie from Rawhide Rescue.

So we come frum dif'frunt places, but the end result is the same: we have Forever Homes here at Our Warren.

So Dadda said we bunnies are 'spensive, so this week, Our Neighbour, Don, (who doesn't profess to like us bunnies!) gave Dadda two big tubs to grow stuff in, and Dadda went off to buy dirt. Maman can't qite see the need to *buy* dirt, not when the whole Back Gardin is entirely Made Outta Dirt, but Dadda was intent upon getting Really Good Dirt, which is better than the Dirt that is in the Back Gardin, which he says is Really Inferior Dirt.

So he went and bought two huge bags of Really Good Dirt and left them where Maman couldn't move them for a coupla'days.

And she told him she was tired of falling over them, and would he please do "sumfing" with them, besides leave them where she would be always falling over them.

So Dadda moved Mr Mouse, and got the Big Planters that Our Neighbour Don gave him and took alla that stuff out Onna Screen Porch.

So this was looking a lot like a Projekt, and all Projekts hab to be Supervised by AT LEAST One Dawg (Sekurity) One Cat (Bother) and Two-of-Us (Commentary).

So Dadda poured in the Really Good Dirt-Frumma-Bag. And it looked like pretty good dirt, as dirt goes. And he broke up all of the clumps, and got one of those little hand-rakes frum outta the Gardin Shed (as opposed to the Tractor Shed) and raked the Really Good Dirt-Frumma-Bag all over, so it was lying all nice and even inside of the planters Our Neighbor Don gave him, and then it was time to add Pooties.

Now Bunny Pooties are the BEST Fertiliser in the Werld. Full-Stop. You can't find better. Bunny pooties can be used straight frumma bunny, no composting needed, no lime needed - just pile them on, fresh frumma pottie-box. A bag-fulla bunny-pooties is like farmers' gold, lemme tell you.

So Dadda hadda fine selection of bunny pooties frum which to choose: MissyBun and I hadda large pan fulla medium-to-large pooties, nicely compacted by Missy sitting on them alla time into nice, solid bricks. Then Mr Mouse had a loose gathering of small, uniformly-shaped pooties - not as many (onna'count obba Fakt Maman had cleaned his litter-box out), but all of a similar size and shape deposited correctly in a neat pile in his Yesterday's News. Foxie had a similar pile of small, nicely shaped pooties, but she'd mixed them up with generous helpings of hay, in addition to the Yesterday's News, so that her pootie-box was fuller-than-it-shuld-have-been.

And then there was Dusty's pootie pan, and lemme tell you, that sucker was *full* of large, round pooties, loosely piled, just waiting to be emptied into sum Really Nice Dirt!

Now you have to unnerstand that Dusty is an Eating Machine. You feed herbs and lettuce leaves in one end and pooties come out the other. Feed in pellets and hay and out come more pooties. Maman says it's a fascinating process, almost as fascinating as MissyBun, this watching Wun Fing go in Wun End Obba-bunny and discovering SumFing-Else Atta-Udder-End-obba-Bunny.

So Dadda emptied alla Dusty's pootie-pan into into his Gardin Boxes, raked them over with more of the Really Nice Dirt and then put in Seeds that he had bought frumma Burpee Seed Place.

And he put on MORE Really Nice Dirt, raked that over and added Water.

Then he said to Us, "Hokay, that ought to hold You Buggers."

So Missy and I went to have a look at the Gardin Boxes out onna Screen Porch this morning.

And there's Nothing Going On!

There's just the Really Nice Dirt inna Gardin Boxes that Our Neighbour, Don, gave to Dadda, all raked over just the way Dadda left it yesterday aftanoon!

And nothing else. There's no lettuce, no parlsley, no dill, no baby organic carrots - nothing, except Really Nice Dirt, with Dusty's pooties unner'neath.

Oh, and our Bun Pen is around the Gardin Boxes. And Cokie was looking at the boxes and saying it wasn't worth his dragging his butt over the top obba Bun Pen to go dig inna Really Nice Dirt, either.

So there you have it - We all have talked it ober, and even the Catz say that the Gardin Boxes full of Really Nice Dirt are so far, preddy useless. Maman says for us to be patient. Missy hadda look and says mebbe the boxes need more pooties and put her paws up onna side ob Wun Box to look in, but like Cokie-the-Fat-Cat says, it's just not worth the effort to pull herself up into it.

So we're going to wait.

And see.

---------------- By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:40 AM EDT

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...And this is not to say that bunnies have anyfing against the Grand Idea of Trial by Jury!

Although we have nothing like it in Our Lore, it is as good an idea as any other and an improvement upon the hoomin concepts of Trial by Combat or Trial by Ordeal, lemme tell you. Maman has read us Lots of Hoomin History and under the Heading of "Stoopit Hoomin Ideas" the various Fings that pre-date Trial by Jury loom pretty large.

And I'm not saying that somebun should be "presumed guilty until proven innocent", either - although that is another hoomin legal concept that has had a certain historical track-record, too.

But whut I am saying is that when sumbun is accused of sumfing, they should have a Trial, not have alla this "plea" stuff, and lawyers wrangling, and "deals".

I will hextplain: 

There is such a Fing as "bending over backwards onna premise that it looks to be more than fair".  Unner the Hoomin Constitution Obba United States, a hoomin is given the Right to a Speedy Trial by (his) Peers. Well, all-righty then, this ball-playing hoomin who is accused (by his friends and relations) ob hanging and/or drowning his very own dogs (who trusted him!) should have his "speedy trial" - like Right Now.

Fortyget "plea bargaining", fortyget his "making a deal", just get going and have his Rights Respected and get going with his Trial. Everybun present their cases and let's see if he is Guilty or Not Guilty of Taking Eight Lives.

And *then* alla newspapers can speculate about his "future", and his "career" playing with a ball - if he still retains either!

But because he has aLotta munny, and because he can play with a ball - and Most of All, because he is hoomin! - he is getting Special Treatment, by being offered treats and goodies and lesser punishments if he will admit he hanged and drowned his very own dawgs, because there is the presumption of hoomin arrogance that states a Dawg's life is not as valuable as a hoomin's.

As I said yesterday, one hundred years ago the same thing was believed about  various other hoomins; in some (mainly Arabic) nations where slaves are bought and sold, it is still believed!

Yeah!

Anywhere slavery is still practiced, hoomins are counted amongst the rest of Us. Anywhere there is gender inequality, some hoomins are counted as "more equal than others".

Bunnies, however, reguard bunnies as bunnies - lop, uppy-eared, broken, chequered, or self-coloured we are all the same. There is no distinction amongst Giants, Swarves, Minis or Standards: We are Bunnies, 

And we are Allus Right. 

Hoomins *really* need to get over themselves!

Say What You Mean, and then Mean Whut You Say - or Truth-in-Packaging - would go a long way towards improving the hoomin condition, if you care to Axt-A-Bunny.  

• If you make a law to have Trial By Jury, then have a Trial By Jury.
• If you make a law to have a Speedy Trial-By-Jury, then have one without delaying to offer deals, threats, treats or tricks!
• And you cannot say that "life is sacred" unless you are prepared to mean *all* life - because life is life.

The Divine Spark that animates us all is the same gift from the same Giver! (And there are more reasons to Believe than there are not to do, thus is there Reason that begets Science, because Ignorance and Confusion are the hallmarks of evil.)

Maman says she is "struggling" with the Christian concepts of "Justice" and "Mercy". This means she is doing aLot of Reading again. Yesterday, Missy went to jump up on the sofa inna Sitting Room and began a Cascade of Books.

Yeah!

However, my MissyBun can luge with the best of them.

She began by riding "Jesus:The Mission and The Man" then transferred in mid-slide to to the larger, heavier "Clifton's Encyclopedia of Heresies and Heretics" and rode that down until it slammed into Cokie-the-Fat-Cat who was sort of dozing onna carpet. Then Cokie took off and tried to four-wheel it over the Dawg who was (as usual) clogging up the doorway. Of course, as soon as the Dawg felt Cat-claws struggling over-the-top ob him, he jumped up and headed South, downnaHallway and met Phil who was attracted uppaHallway by Maman's scream as Missy went over-the-side of the sofa...

Ennyways, as the Dawg was trying to ex-cape frum the Cokie-Cat (who was trying to ex-cape frum the Cascade of Books with MissyBun riding on top), he tried to squeeze between Phil's legs but since the Dawg was wearing Cokie-Cat as a passenger, this didn't work too well and there was lots of yelling of whut Dadda calls "Anglo-Saxon-isms" that Phil swears to Maman he learned inna Navy.

So Ennyways, Missy was fine, seeing as how she was only riding on a Book and hadn't fallen off the sofa at all. But Cokie-the-Fat-Cat had torn open the 25-pound bag of Purina Cat Chow just that morning and had eaten *lots*, so he threw up All Over the rug in Maman's Study... so he decided Whut He Really Needed To Do was to go Uppystairs and Comfort Eat. And Beep-the-Udder-Cat, not to be Left Out of all the Chaos, took it into her head to protest that the Not-Mechanical Cat-Litter Box was not full of enough litter, and so she left sumFing for Maman to clean up on the rug, as well.

And the Reason Phil was here so early was onna'count obba Fakt that he had been sleeping happily in his bed when his youngest kittycat, Lillie, decided that Whut She Really Wanted to do was to pull on a Window Blind. Well, she got Lucky, and snagged two of the buggers with wun claw, and both of them *snapped* right to the ceiling - letting in alla nice, bright, brilliant morning sunshine to glare directly into Phil's eyes!

So Phil was awake.

So he got up outta his bed, and went off toda Bafroom. Anna lid to his hoomin litter-bowl was down. And this was Not Good, because while he had been to sleep, his Senior Cat, KayCee-Kitty (who is the Queen and Empress of EveryFing Belonging-to-Phil) had torn open the Noo 25-pound bag of Purina Cat Chow, eaten more than Wun Small Empress could hold and thrown up the excess on top of his hoomin litter-bowl where there was no litter!

So Phil cleaned *that mess* up and then he said to his five kitties-all-lined-up-inna-row (which would be in order of Age and Rank: Empress KayCee Kitty, Toby-Left-Behind, Munchkin/Mischief, Lillie-Waif and Oscar-Ozzie,) "You know whut? I give up on you lot." and he drove over to Our Houz to find a Quiet Cup of Coffee.

Where he ran straight innu da Dawg, both Catz and Alla Us Togedder.

Now Long Ago, according to Our Lore (as I learned it frum me,Hunny, Senior Bun), Maman promised Dadda that when he married her he would never be bored. And he never has been. ...Truth-in-packaging, lemme tell you!

----------------------------- by George!

Posted by Our Warren at 11:03 AM EDT

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Because evil is real, and it is Out There, and it wears many faces and it will not go away in Our Time.

Of course, I do not want to write about evil. Who would? It is much better to type about happy things and happy times. It is more fun to amuse than to distress.

But evil is pulling a Trick and if I didn't type to you about it, I would be not Doing My Job as Top Bun in Our Warren.

In every Warren there are jobs. When Our Warren first came to our New Houz, we didn't need a Top Bun, because me,Hunny (Senior Bun) came with us. He was very old, but that didn't mean that he wasn't In Charge of the Warren - he was, and that was Hokay by Alla Us Togedder.

But then me,Hunny went on to the Rainbow Bridge, and since we all had Our Places in Our Warren, we didn't *need* a Top Bun.

But being *liked* isn't everything. Being popular and being Cute isn't everything.

Happiness is not a bag of Baby Organic Carrots and there is more to Life than Parsley and Dill.

So I have been reading Newspapers with Maman, and what I have discovered is this: evil is still alive and well.

There is a great evil that is confusing hoomins Right Now! It is All Over the newspapers, typed in columns yards long in the "Sports Pages" - There are hoomins who are worrying about - and writing about, and typing stories like-they-care-about! - the "future *career*" of someone whose friends say, "Look at me! I helped this man, my friend, drown and hang our very own eight dogs!"

And what does that hoomin - their "friend" (they admit it!) - do as a *career*?

He plays with a ball.

Our Dawg plays with a ball!

The men who have (by their own admission) hanged and drowned their very own dawgs get paid millions of dollars in munny.

Our Dawg plays with his ball for Milk-Bone Dog Biscuits.

The men who have - by their own admission! - hanged and drowned their very own dogs (who trusted them!) are watched on tellyvision by millions of hoomins.

Our Dawg is happy to be watched by Maman and Dadda, and Phil-the-Lad, and Alla Us Togedder, and sumtimes by Our Neighbour, MaryBeth and her two Dawgs, Lilly and Penny.

The men who have - by their own admission! - hanged and drowned their very own  dogs (who no doubt trusted them, because they had no choice!) called their home their "Bad Newz Kennel" - (truth-in-packaging so far as the dawgs there were concerned!).

Our Dawg calls his home his "pack", his natural place to be - and knows he is safe here.

Yet the hoomins who make the Rools regarding Playing With Balls On Tellyvision are willing to "wait and see" and are willing to "presume innocense" while this man, whose friends admit their guilt, "bargains" for his "future" to play with a ball.

What is wrong here? Is it not enough that eight lives are gone from the world? Is it because this man can play with a ball, (and Our Dawg plays better because he is twice the hoomin's age and still going strong!), that he is being treated like he is special? Is it because he is hoomin, he is being treated like he is special?

Because - lemme tell you - if this man was a dawg, and he had taken away eight lives, it wouldn't matter if he could play ball or not, hoomins would take away his life - would they not?

Am I equating a Dawg's life to the Life of a Hoomin?

Lookit, some hoomins cannot accept that.

• One hundred years ago, some hoomins could not accept that female hoomins had souls.
• Less than one hundred years ago, some hoomins could not accept that hoomins who looked different from them had souls.

Hoomins will learn what we Bunnies have known since the Dawn Of Time: We Are All Creations; We All Come frum the Same Architect of the Universe, so a Part of Him is Inside of Us All.

Evil does not like that there is One God and it is not It. Evil is less than God (evil got to choose, after all) and misery likes company, so evil will continue to try and confuse the Issue of Good vs. itself. It is in it's interests to do so. But it is hoomins' choice to see the Path By Which They Tread.

And hoomins can choose: to make excuses for evil (and believing that they are being good by so doing - because "after all, a man is innocent until proven guilty") or believing what is before their eyes: taking life is wrong.

I do not know how it can be Right.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:55 PM EDT

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Some things are passed up from the grass-nest nurseries through the tunnels, and out through burrows into the green living-world beneath the blue-sky. Much of it is silly chit-chiat, I hear, the same much of a muchness of chitter and and gruff heard all over the planet when critters are all waking up Togedder Atta Very Same Momint. And we really do rise togedder, or else get stpped on, or shouldered around, or darted across, or rolled over, or have something else done to us that makes getting more sleepy-time out of the Question.

But it is just when you are at your most exasperated, when you are cross and don't want to talk to ebbybun ennymore, an just go off by your onliest to be by yourself, when Sumbunny latches on to you and says,

"Come eat wif me dis day."

Now this invitation isn't so bad, Some of these Elderbuns are quite sharp about bememebering where all best food happens to be. They are the ones addicted to long aftaNonnwalks, and who have time to sit and sniff the evening air to get a fix on a delicious smell. It's a good idea to follow them, beause they might givve you permission to ome back again sometime. They might even invited you to becoe a  curatory at their patch. A good, quiet, amicable bunny with a good head, can set himself up for a life-time of treats this way, if he can listen to storyiesm and stay away from the roughhousing and chasing in which young-bun usually engage,

So when one of these Old Bun asks me to go along with them, I go. I am quiet, ennyways and I like learning almost as much as I like listening.

So the Sernior Bun and I saw a picture of a bunch of men standing around with big trucks and equipment.

"We do not tunnel into Moustains as these hoomins do, not nearly so deep."

And that was preddy much the Truth.

"And if someone gets stuck in a burrow, we dig them out, if they havn't dug themselves out already. Most rabbits dig themselves out if they are't hurt. But this is down far down below the mountain and the mountain is alive."

Maman had left out sum nice Hay for us, along with sum Romaine, and we fell to munching, quietly.

"And the mountain is shrugging it's shoulders, and popping its seams and raining rocks and collapsing the tunnels on the hoomins, even as they dig."

And I said it was terrible. Because it is.

And the Senior Bunny continued. "And they are talking that they must close the mine before anybunny else is hurt."

"Even if there are people down there who are alive?" I asked.

"No one knows one way or the other."

"But there has to be a way to know."

"Maman bemembers a long time ago that once there was a mine being dug out near where her Grandfather lived in Western Pennsylvania, a mine collapsed. And miners were trapped. And there was no way to get to them. And no one knew if they were dead or alive down inside that hole in the mountain."

"And what happined?" I asked.

The Senior Bun shook his loppy ears, the tips of them swaying gently back and forth with the rhythmn of his head.

"Maman says she bemembers that they closed the mine up. She went to see it with her Grandfather - he was a minister and was to bless it like a shrine, and she could hardly believe it. Because there was the gree countryside, all dotted with wild daisies, and the sun shining down, and the water running through the little creeks, and then there was a hill, half of it torn away. And just near-by, was a plat place in the dirt, with more dirt heaped up on it, and a mound of field-flowers and florists' banner or two, fluttering in the breeze. And the words on the banners were picked out in blue glitter and she remembered thinking to herself how crass and cheap the glitter looked on a grave-site.

"And Maman said that she felt it was all very strange and she wondered how she was supposed to behave, so she stood right in the back of the crowd and watched what her Granddaddy did.

"Her Granddaddy had a three-piece suit and a gold watch and chain, and so did some other men who were standing off to one side, but most of the men had brown suits or weren't wearing suits and most of the women were wearing what Maman had been taught to call 'housedresses'. It felt strange, but Granddaddy said was all they had because miners are very poor."

And Maman still wonders, the Senior Bunny told me that Maman still wonders how ennybunny knows when to stop digging and when to continue digging. How do they know when to cover the land over, call in the priests, and say prayers and commend souls to God? Who descides? Who tells the others and why do they obey them?

How do hoomins decide when all Hope is gone?

 
-------------------------------- by George

 

Posted by Our Warren at 7:16 PM EDT

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Well, you know, here I am with my mouth full of Salad again.

Isn't it nice?

MissyBun says all food is nice.

Dill is nice, Argula is nice, Cilantro is very nice; Mint is espcially nice when it comes with the lavender-coloured flowers attached, and Romaine lettuce, even the pale green parts nearest the core, aren't at all bad! And pellets are nice when you can pry them out of Maman (who has been miserly with them of late, for reasons unknown, but probably has to do with us having been at the v-e-t's!) and of course, fresh, fragrant Hay is totally wunnerful, as are ALL kinds of Froot.

Yes, Food is very, very nice!

And so here am I, George, with my mouth full, little prehensile lips reaching for more, and Maman says to me,

"Hey George, read this!"

So I got myself lifted up into her lap, set my paws on Dadda's Desk (Onna'count of-the-Fakt that Maman's 'Puter is still lying in pieces on her Study floor) and here is THIS editorial in today's Telegraph Online Edition!

It is about how hoomin women who are middle-aged are now werried about being skinny. Did you know that there are women who are starving themselves in the midst of plenty?

So I axted myself, "Why?"

And Maman said, "They are afraid."

And that didn't make much sense to me, so I hopped offa Maman's lap and went over to the futon where MissyBun was eating Romaine to axt her.

"So, howcome hoomins are so concerned about not eating when they got alla this food?"

And Missy looked at me. "Whut? Sumfing's wrong wiffa food?"

"Nope. Maman said they are afraid."

Missy's ears came up and sort of together as she frowned.

Now I know there are hoomins who say that bunnies do not frown because we do not have the facial muscles to frown with, or the brains to be capable of producing frown-inducing thoughts - which just says to me that these hoomins have never lived with HouseRabbits and have no practical hextperience with us. It seems to me that, no matter whut the Truth happens to be, there is always some ivy-encrusted tower-dweller who insists (in print) to know better and has secured a government grant in order to publish it abroad. And they all seem to cherish the hope of meeting Oprah - live, on-air, in front of millions - so they can demonstrate their ignorance on a grand scale.

But bunnies *do* frown, lemme tell you!

So Missy frowned, tore off anudder chunk of Romaine, and said, "That is so stoopit, it's skerry. Next off, sumbun will say it's a "syn-rome" and they'll all allow themselves to be herded off to a "re-hab" in order to hab more obbit."

And I was, like, "Whut?"

And Missy went on, "It's wike alla dis stuff I read about dis Brit-chik, you know? She gets innu trubble, den goes innu sumplace called 're-hab' and comes out to hab the same trubble all ober again. Dat's why it is called 're-hab' - so you can hab whutebber you had furst ob all, and hab it a sekond or fird or forf time and not be blamed for it. You can just say, 'I bin to re-hab' and so it's all hokay, or else sumbun sends you to 're-hab' so you can go ahead and hab it all ober again."

And I thought about this and it sounded just about right. There are lots of news articles about hoomins going into and out of "re-hab" so it really does seem like that's the place hoomins go to get out of having to deal with the consequences of whatever they've done.

"But how," I axt Missy. "Does this have ennyFing to do with not eating when there is lots to eat?"

And Missy grabbed a stem of Dill and began sucking it in, longways. "Because it's anudder way of making something that is Bad seem to be Good. Everybun knows that Starvation is Bad, but if you are rich, successful, middle-aged, and have everything, then you do it and it becomes Good. It's wike they are sayin',  'Oh wook at ME! I am rich and hab ebberyfing, so now I'm gonna Starve myself so *ebberybun* will notice ME!' Only hoomins could fink dat up, lemme tell you."

And Missy stopped long enough to grab a sprig of Mint. "Wookit yestidday." She went on, munching a large leaf. "Unkul Peter got up at six o'clock inna morning to go reskue a bunny-inna-cage dat was axtchually starvin', right?"

And I said, "Right." because I had heard Maman talking to Uncle Peter last night on the tellyphone, and that's what they had been talking about.

"Hokay." Said Missy. "So whut do you fink dat poor bunny did when Unkul Peter got it safely toda North Georgia House Rabbit Society Bunny Shelter?"

"Um," I guessed. "Had salad?" (Because I know Unkul Peter. He is a rilly soft-touch who hands out treats and salad like he has the key to the produce department at the local supermarket! You should have been here while he was visiting! It was great, rilly great!)

"You betcha." Said Missy. "Whin Maman wnt to gedda drink ob wadder, I talked to Sheeba and she told me alla'bout it. Da poor, starving bunny who was left behind by stoopit, cruel hoomins wif no way ob getting food for herself was so hungry dat she ate ebberyfing dat was put in frunt ob her - salad, pellets, and 'specially alla fresh hay she could stuff in. Because she was thin all rite - thin and cobbered in ticks and fleas - but she wasn't all proud ob herself for being thin. She was starving! And you fink for Wun Momint dat she cared whut udder bunnies thought about how she wooked? No way! All she cared about was habbin' enuf food to stay alive. Anna folks atta North Georgia House Rabbit Society gave her food and she ate it because she knew 'zactly whut it was like to be left behind and be genuinely hungry. She knew dat it was Bad. And dat is whut da hoomins are missing!"

"Dat being left behind and starving is bad." I said.

Missy nodded. "Dat starvation obba body begins wif starvation obba spirit. OnAlone is terrible, which is why we bunnies make such a fuss aboudd'it. Nobunny shuld ebber be left OnAlone. Not ebber."

"So," I ventued, "You're saying that alla these hoomins who are starving themselves when alla this food is alla'round them have been left OnAlone?"

MissyBun nodded. "It's part of this 're-hab' fing. 'Re-hab' is just anudder way ob leavin' ebberybun OnAlone to hab alla dis stuff all ober again wif nobunny caring enuf to stay wif dem to stop da cycle ob OnAlone. Sumtimes I fink dat hoomins need to be 'dopted as much as bunnies, only they won't do it. Now if hoomins wuld allow themselves to be 'dopted innu proper warrens, well, it mite make a dif'frence."

So I grabbed a hunk of Romaine and tore off some. Chewing does help you Fink!

And I Fink dat MissyBun might be right - that this "re-habbing" of Fings might not be a good idea at all, that it might be a way of trying to make Bad Fings seem to be Good Fings, so that even OnAlone can seem like a Good Fing when we Bunnies all know that OnAlone is the worst Fing that can befall ennybunny. Maybe 'doption into a stable, kind Warren is the only way to end OnAlone - for EveryBun!

But I don't know. This is a Huge Discussion, maybe, and Huge can be scary when you are used to allus being prey. Maybe we're just getting Started with it, and we need to talk aboudd'it with very many dif'frunt voices.

But one Fing I do know: Belinda was right! NoBunny must ever be OnAlone!

----------------------------- By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:09 AM EDT

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Good Morning!

I had trouble accessing The Hay Diaries yesterday, so there wasn't an entry (for which I apologise).

Was it Dadda's 'Puter and Maman not getting along? Could be. She called it enough Bad Names to make it never want to type for her ever again when she couldn't get into The Hay Diaries the Furst Time. The Fing is, she has a Rilly Short Fuse when she is werking on the 'Puter, especially if it is not Her 'Puter (which she pretends to Unnerstand).

Lucky for her (and by extension, me) the parts to fix her 'Puter are sus'posed to be here by This Evening.

Yeah!

So, Ennyways, this morning, she and I were reading The Telegraph Online Edition Newspaper, just like she always did when she lived in England. And we found this article about a Tea Room in Brighton,  that began a conversation between Maman and Dadda.

The Tea Room, which is named "The Tea Cosy" is owned by two men named David Daly and James Green, and they have Established Rules of Etiquette for those who wish to patonise their establishment. The Rules state plainly: no cell-phones in the tea rooms, no dunking biscuits (hoomins' treats), keeping elbws off the table (I have heard Maman Speak to Phil and SistaBeth about this!), hold your tea-cup and saucer properly, and do not speak insultingly of Her Majesty, The Queen or other members of the Royal Family.

(MissyBun says that this "not speaking insultingly" should extend to her, as well, and she will look into how "one" has this kind of "Rool" written into a "Code of Behaviour".

I told her "Good Luck with that." and she told me I should mind my own business about learning Top Bunning and she would mind Hers. Just so you know how *that* went.)

So Maman read this article out-loud to Dadda and he said, "Good luck to them! I would go there."

And Maman said, "I agree, although some people are calling them 'Tea Nazis' because they feel insisting upon a Code of Etiquette is restrictive."

"I hope their place is heaving." Said Dadda. "Just wall-to-wall. And that those fellows make a mint."

"It says here that if you order coffee, the waiter will show you to the door and point out the three near-by 'Starbucks'." Said Maman. "As he should do. Imagine the nerve of some idiot ordering coffee in a tea room. Stupid people. It says here that one guy banged his head because he was using his cell-phone beneath the table when the owner came in."

"Serves him right." Said Dadda. "People need manners."

"I used to have manners before I married you." Maman went on, flipping through the article with the mouse-pointer thingy. "My coffee table in Waddington never had a thing on it so I could serve tea instantly. I always brewed tea in a pot, and used proper cups. It's only since I returned to the States that I've dropped that like a live grenade. My Grandmother would have said I should have trained you better."

And Dadda made snorty noises into his Big Blue Tea Vat. "I don't train." he said.

And Maman said, "Yes you do, and I have let you get away with murder. You drink tea out of an over-sized cup."

"I've been doing that for ages." Said Dadda, setting his vat down on the floor beside the futon where he was reading.

Over across the room, Cokie-the-Fat-Cat stuck his head up and looked. So did Beep-the-Udder-Cat from where she was sitting in the doorway to Maman's Study, where she was being watched by Da Dawg, who was in Herding Mode this morning. I stretched out full-length on the futon and looked down over the side into the vat. This was because we all knew the same Fing at the same Time: Dadda's tea-cup had four spoon-fulls of sugar in it and it was on the floor now, within reach of four-foots!

And of course, food-stealing is Not Legal. You can axt ennybunny and they will tell you that. However, Search and Recovery *can* be, if you can get away with that. The Rules are not Certain and sumtimes you can manage the Recovery part and sumtimes you can't. A lot of it depends on Dadda's mood at the moment he catches you and how good your Cute is going when that moment comes.

So Cokie gave a preliminary "Chirp" and started across the floor wearing his "Innerested" look. So he got to within claiming distance of the Big Blue Cup before ennybunny else. 

"What would you have done in my Grandmother's house, then?" Asked Maman. "Because she would have given you regular-sized tea-cups and had the pot served, with a chinz cosy and sugar tongs, too."

"I would have done however she wanted." Dadda replied.

"Yes, well, I've let you get away with having that horrible one-pint vat." Said Maman.

"I've been drinking out of this cup," Said Dadda. "For more years than I can count, even before being married to you, dear."

"Yes and well, I should never have let it into the house."

And there was Cokie-the-Fat-Cat, sitting with his paws in front of him, and his head extending outwards towards Dadda's cup as far as he could extend it. And I was looking down, over the side of the futon, and so was Missy. And also, by this time, Da Dawg had figgered out that sumfing was going on behind him, so he was looking over his shoulder with his 'Lert Look on, trying to figure out what was so "Inneresting" to Cokie, and keep an eye on Beep (who was also looking over Da Dawg's shoulder) at the same time.

It is very inneresting to watch a collie-dawg try to get their eyes to go in two different directions at the same time.

"If I had started training you in the beginning," Maman said, "I would never have let that tea-vat into the house. And I would have kept the coffee table clear so that I could serve tea in an instant, and not followed the American convention of using it as some kind of display table for useless ornaments. A coffee table should have nothing more on it than a pane of clear glass that can be easily wiped up in case of spills. It is a serving piece *only* and not a display piece. If I had started you out that way, you would be trained by now; I have only myself to blame that we don't have proper tea all the time."

"But I have always had these big cups." Protested Dadda.

"And you shouldn't. In Waddington, I didn't have a beaker in the house. Not one. Now I seem to have thousands. The bloody things reporduce on their own in the cupboards. And look at me - I drink coffee - brewed coffee! I never used to do that. If I wanted coffee, I drank instant, like a proper English woman."

And by that time, Cokie-the-Fat-Cat was well into "Recovery", with his head stuck into Dadda's tea-cup - which is big enough to swallow Cokie's whole head. And Missy and I (who were looking overboard from the futon) could hear the lap-lap-lap of his little, pink tongue.

And right about that very same moment, Beep-the-Udder-Cat (who is admittedly slow on the uptake) finally figured out that Cokie was "recovering" Hoomin Food (a subject that always innerested her, even though she rarely joined in), shot past Da Dawg (who was trying his level best to look in two directions at one and the same time - and failing) and bounded to a halt at the bottom of the futon.

Which made Da Dawg turn-and-bolt in the same way for which Border Collies are justly famous the werld over, but since he did it in such a narrow space, he banged his butt into the door between Maman's Study and Dadda's Office, and riccocheted offa the book-case, came careening into the Office and somehow managed to fetch up next to Dadda's tea-cup.

So, of course, Dadda looked down and noticed Cokie with his head in Dadda's tea cup and his little, pink tongue going like mad in Full Recovery Mode.

And Cokie was so absorbed in his Recovery that he did not have his Cute on at all!

And Dadda reached down over the side of the futon and smacked the Cokie-the-Fat-Cat-head with the flat of his hand and said, "Whack-a-mole! Get out of there, cat!"

And Cokie came up spluttering with a whole face full of tea. And he swore at Da Dawg as he went by and took a swipe at Beep and went to sulk unner'neaf of the table in the corner.

But he spent the next hour or so cleaning tea-with-four-tea-spoons-of-sugar off his face while niether Da Dawg or Beep had enny. Which goes to show you...sumfing.

And Maman said to Dadda, "See? That cat has no manners. No etiquette. And that would never have happened if you had trained him right."

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:53 AM EDT

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It is hard to type with your mouth full - and having two large salads a day is keeping my mouth full! MissyBun's mouth is also full, which as certain advantages for the Beginning Top Bun. Usually, she is Full of Advice that she is very Gen'rus about sharing with me, but lately she has been Full of Salad, instead, which has done a lot toward Keeping the Peace, not to mention Keeping Her Cleaner In The Long Run.

At enny rate, Fings, in Gen'ral would be going Great, except for-the-Fakt that I am not using Maman's 'Puter, but am having to type on a Strange 'Puter, amely Dadda's, onna'count of-the-Fakt that Maman's Ceased-To-Exist right after Phil left the other night.

I refuse to speculate. Uh-huh. No way. Not gonna do it. Nope.

And now Phil says it Needs Parts - a New Video Card, a New Something-Else-Board, and of course, Phil's all-time, favourite passion, RAM. He seems to be of the pursuasion that if Maman has a RAM port, it *must be filled!* and that's that. Sort of like, if you have room for an extra habitat, you have to adopt a bunny to put in it, that's how Phil thinks of empty RAM sockets: they *must* be filled! So he's ordered some RAM for Maman who already has more RAM than most mortals ever use.

But this means that her 'Puter is perched dark and silent on her desk and the only one alive is Dadda's in his office, with his chair in which I Don't Fit. 

So as soon as Dadda left in-the-car to go to Certified, Maman got busy and dragged her chair outta her office and into Dadda's, and got her fan outta her office and installed it into Dadda's and opened some windows to let in some breezes, and got Fings to where we, Missy, Maman and Me, could get some Useful Work Done, even if we were Making Do With What We Had.

Maman also got herself some coffee and brought some salad for Missy and me.

Fings aren't *too* bad. I mean, we have a futon, even if it smells of Catz because this is where Beep-the-Udder-Cat likes to sleep when there are Sunbeams. However, it's cloudy out today, with a promise of Thunderstorms, so there are no sunbeams for Beep - just us taking up her normal space. And da Dawg is still stuck on the floor, but Maman gave him some Cat Kibble to eat, so he's happy.

It doesn't take much to make a dawg happy.

And Maman has had to rebuild a "Favourites" of alla her and my Newspaper Websites, mostly frum memory, mainly *her* memory, which being pretty old, isn't so good. So we have only read three or four newspapers this morning, instead of the seven or ten we usually read. And the few that we have read, we haven't read too closely.

But what we Have Read, is mostly Bad News, I am sorry to report. And since I don't report Bad News in The Hay Diaries, I'm not about to report any of what we read about so far today.

And my mouth is full, besides. I got Romaine here, and some fresh Dill from Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Rose and Herb Gardin that's right outside of the Bun Room Memorial Stained Glass Window. And I have some Curly Parsly, and a heap of Williamsburg Heritage Peppermint to aid in digestion, and some Baby Organic Carrots and One Grape Tomato from Missy's Expelled Tomato Vine.

You got to admit, that most hoomins do not have Expelled Tomato Vines! But we do, and Dadda figures that it is at least twelve feet long, and all from ONE seed that Missy must have swallowed whole and then expelled into a pootied, that got spread on the Gardin in the Spring. Where it germinated and took root. And Growed. And became a full-grown tomato-plant because Maman and Dadda couldn't believe it was axtchually growing in the Gardin in the First Place!

And now it has blossoms and blooms and chains of little, tiny grape tomatoes on it that are getting ripe, one-atta-time in the hot August sunshine!

So I ate half of the one that I was given and left the rest for Missy, onna'count-of-the-Fakt that I don't really like tomatoes ennyways. As soon as I get to any seeds, I stop eating them and leave them for Missy who inhales the rest of them.

Which is how Dadda is pretty sure that the tomato vine plant in the Gardin was Expelled by MissyBun, as she is the only HouseBunny who eats tomatoes with the seeds included.

So there is Another Case of Making Do: you take what you are given and make Something out of It, Somehow. Other hoomins call this "Recycling" and make a Big Deal out of it, and treat it like it is a New Idea they just had, but every time that you use something in a New Way, Making Do instead of buying something new, you are "Recycling" or whatever they want to call it.

It's like when you take the net bag your onions came in, cut off the metal clip and thread some string through the openings and then put your stockings and delicate stuff inside so you can throw it into your washing machine.

And sometimes people are like, "Ooooo! That's so clever!"

And as Maman says, "No it's not 'Clever'. It's simple logic: Net-plus-Bag-Equals-Netbag, or, expressed mathymatikally," (And she stresses that word for udder hoomins!) "N-plus-B-equals-NB. Okay?" and she rolls her eyes (she says) because she is not an Engineer.

Phil, on-the-udder-paw, who is an Engineer, says you can mend a liddle hole in rubber gloves with the fire on the end of a match and your finger. Make the rubber soft with the heat from the match, and close up the little hole. The glove is fixed for quite awhile.

This isn't rocket science.

Don't buy New, Make Do.

Our Dadda, who is Another Type of Engineer, says that Farmers have the right Ideas: they grow things, like Salad and don't always DriveTheir Cars to the market to Buy Stuff. He says that it takes less effort to Grow Stuff than it takes Energy to Drive the Car, and that we can Learn to Grow Almost Ennywheres. So he is buying Seeds and a Coupla Bags for the Screen Porch.

So while we wait for Maman's 'Puter to be fixed, she isn't going to get a new one. She is going to be using Dadda's. It isn't set up for her, so there won't be Pictures and Graphics and stuff, but there will still be the Words Frum Me, and that's Whut This Blog Is About: Werds Frum Me, George-the-Bun.

And we're Making Do!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:43 AM EDT

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Yesterday, I posted a link to the Humane Society of the United States from the Philadelphia Daily News and I think they got it wrong, which made me get it wrong. The HSUS main web-page is here.  So that's my CORRECTION. And I'm not afraid to admit it!

And, so far as New Good News goes, I found this article, this morning, in The Telegraph Online. It is about Kangaroos getting moved insted of killed *binky!* This is very Good News! Please click on This to read the story!

Anytime hoomins take the time and trouble to hear the Voice of the Voiceless, I, George, will try to type about it in The Hay Diaries!

Maman has gotten out all of her books frumm when she was a Little Girl for Our Granddaughter, Anya. So we have a whole new shelf of book from Fifty Years ago! Maman's Grandmothers bought many of these books for her, mostly as a way of Improving Her Mind. There are books in French and Spanish, and a whole lot of Books Frum England with huge pictures in soft colours. A lot of these books have pictures of bunnies in them. Yeah!

And some of the books are even older than Maman. These are the books that belonged to her Father, who was Our Bim. These are mostly odd books with names like "The Rimskittle Books" and "Literature for Little Lads" and "Prayers for Children" and "The Brimful Book". One of these books feature baby farm animals wearing ribbons and bows. Then there is one really BIG book called, "A Boy's King Arthur" with heroic pictures of knights and beautiful horses all painted by a guy named Howard Pyle. There is another book called "The Just So Stories" and one called "A Child's Garden of Verses".

And there is a whole set of books with only line drawings by somebun named "A.A. Milne" that are about a plush bear named "Winnie-the-Pooh". The four books are "Winnie-the-Pooh", "The House At Pooh Corner", "Now We Are Six" and a very skinny book in Maman's handwriting called, "Winnie-Ille-Pooh" that's written in some foreign language. She says it was a "project".

Maman says she is going to read alla these books to Anya as soon as she is big enough to sit on Maman's lap and Pay Attention. According to Maman reading to a small hoomin helps to Improve The Mind. Right now, she is getting into Practice by reading to MissyBun and me. This morning, we heard a story about Kanga and Roo from the "Winnie-the-Pooh" book. I'm not exactly sure what we were s'sposed to do with this new information about a Mother kangaroo and her baby, Roo, but we listened (more or less) and so that was pretty much that. 

There are days around here when it's not real plain what's expected of you as a houserabbit. Sometimes *being* is enough and sometimes, there's more to it.

Like when Maman finishes a story, and she says, "The End." and closes the book and looks expectantly at you.

And it's like, Um, well. Uh, okay! The End!

And we all sort of sit together on the futon, looking at each other and waiting.

And then Maman says, "Well! Wasn't that a nice story?"

And MissyBun is like, "Um, yeah. Great."

And I'm like, "Yeah! And so..."

And Missy is like, "I gotta ged down now..." and she kind of balances on the edge of the futon, sort of teetering back and forth on her big back feets, because the futon is sort of high off the floor section while Missy is sort of heavier in the rear-sections than she is in the front.

And so Maman reaches over to help Missy down off the futon and on to the floor.

And Missy says as she gets down and hops off toward the Catz' pootie-box, "Great story. We'll have to do this again sometime. Like not now."

And Maman is like, "Yes. I know. You and George - got places to go..."

And I'm off, whuffling amongst the pillows on the other side of the futon, about as far away from Maman as I can get without being rude, and I say, "People - bunnies - to meet. Stuff to do..."

"Salads to eat." Missy says meaningfully from her place on top of the Catz' litterbox.

And I look up at the plush bunnies Maman has stacked on the back of the futon. She's got a whole 'nuther warren that has no scent seated up there, as well as a whole warren-full of Stone Rabbits That Have No Smell out in the Garden.

"I have never, " I add, "Met a salad I didn't like."

And Maman starts looking thoughtful. She is beginning to get a *Thing* about bringing home inannimate bunnies, and sort of forgetting that while the inannimate bunnies don't eat salad, WE do, and on a Regular Basis...

"I guess I'd better go get your salads." Says Maman, suddenly, pulling herself up off the futon.

And off she goes, Downnastairs, leaving Missy and me for Dadda to carry down.

So, you see, someBunny has got to start supervising her. Before she gets too many of these plush and stone rabbits-without-scents, as she's already done with the books, and starts crowding out the Our Regular Warren, which would be Us...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:54 AM EDT

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So Maman and I were reading the Newspapers this morning and here is some Good News that we found in the Philadelphia Daily News! (It's from Dan Gross' gossip column and you can view the entire column here).

Here is the Good News:

Local actor loves animals
Upper Dublin High graduate John Tartaglia, who starred in "Avenue Q" on Broadway and formerly did puppeteering for "Sesame Street," has become a spokesman for the Humane Society of the United States' Proud 2 Adopt campaign. The actor now lives in New York. For more on the program, visit humanesociety.org/adopt.

And here, from the online magazine of the Washington Post, Slate.com, comes this inneresting bit of Good News, this time aboudda Professional Baseball Player, Ichiro Suzuki of the Seattle Mariners:

...he divulged that a key advisory role in deciding to remain in Seattle was played by his dog Ikky. "He said, 'Woof, woof, woof,' which meant, 'Stay, stay, stay,' " Suzuki told reporters in Japanese. "Of course, I listened." (Read the whole newsstory.)

So here we have Good News about an actor who starred on Broadway and did puppeteering on television, and a member of a Professional Sports Team who are speaking up for companion animals! What a great change from alla Bad News we keep hearing about famous people like that cruel football player (who shall remain nameless in my blog!) who is under federal indictment.

In my opinion, any guys who listen to their Dawgs or who support pet adoptions are guys I want to be role models for young people!

Just the other day, I was watching the News on Tellyvishion with Maman and I saw one of our Local Earthwatch Weather Team, Dave Warren, get down on the ground to play with a Dawg! Yeah! He was doing a feature called "Backyard Weather" and the Dawg just happened to be there, but, still, getting down onna ground to play with the Dawg was a Good News kind of thing that I am happy to report in The Hay Diaries. You can see Dave on NBC10 in the Philadelphia area and read about him on the station's website.

Of course, there should be more HouseRabbits on NBC10! Yeah!

Maman and Dadda have noticed that there are Grape Tomatoes growing in Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Herb and Rose Gardin.

Dadda went outside last night to rip out all of the weeds that were around them, and to count how many blossoms there were and how many blossoms were turning into tomatoes. Maman went outside with her basket to cut some Williamsburg Heritage Peppermint for Our Salad.

The thing that gets me is that Dadda is very proud of these tomatoes. You'd think that he had sumfing to do with planting them, but he didn't. He only noticed that they were there a couple of weeks ago when he called Maman over and asked her Whut Kind Of Weed Was Growing In The Garden.

Maman said, "Those aren't weeds. Those are tomato plants."

And then she looked at Dadda and said, "So when did you plant those?"

And Dadda looked at her and said, "I thought you did."

And she shook her head, and so they pondered over that for a little while.

And then MissyBun nudged me with her shoulder and said, "Hey. Bemember lastest year whin Maman gabe me dose stoopit widdle maters to eat?"

And I said, "Uh huh."

And Missy went on, "Well, I swallowed summa dose seeds, whole."

And we looked at each other.

And MissyBun looked at me and her eyes got really wide, and then she blinked and said, "Ya fink?" 

And just then, Maman and Dadda came in from the Garden and Dadda was saying to Maman, "So what I think happened was that the seeds must have passed right through Missy, and when we spread the pooties out over the Garden, they germinated and now..."

And Maman laughed and began to sing in her "Barry Manilow" voice, "Looks like to-may-toes!"

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:18 AM EDT

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I told you that today marks a New Beginning in The Hay Diaries blog! I, George, am now a Grown Up Bunny, with 'Pinions and Observations all my own!

And now I am going to use my space to tell you about alla Good News and stuff that I find inna Newspapers, and alla the other things that I Fink about all day long!

So One of the Things About Which I have Finked, is about this guy named Boris.

Now Boris is Boris Johnson and he wants to be Mayor of London in England, which is where my Dadda used to live (so now you know why I care about *this* subject!). Boris doesn't want to be Lord Mayor - which means he would be like Dick Whittington, and wear a chain around his neck and a funny hat and walk in ceramonial processions, but a Real Mayor, as in a politician who does work and such-like for the people who live in the City.

There has only been a Mayor of London since Tony Blair decided to modernise the place when he built it a Ferris Wheel.

And around about that time, this guy named Ken Livingstone got elected to be Mayor and keeps "getting returned" as my Dadda says, which means that the people of London can't get rid of him.

Enter Boris, whose real name is Alexander, but he likes the name Boris which is his second name. He is an author, politician and all-around 'Tellygint person.

One of the big problems facing London today is that there are too many cars on streets not meant to have cars. Let's face it, most cities were built long before people had cars, and most streets were made for people to walk through and live in, not drive down.

Now too many people have cars that they think are mobile extensions of their personal space and they refuse to share that space with anybun else.

But do you realize that having a car increases your personal space at least six times, and makes it able to move more than sixty times it's normal forward speed?

Just who do you fink you are that you deserve to have six times your normal personal space?

So ennyways, Boris has had an answer for this for a long time - he rides a bicycle! I think this, alone, qualifies him to be the Mayor of London for the following reasons:

1. It shows he's not too proud to get in there with the normal traffic and fight for his regular space in it.
2. It shows he's brave enough to go toe-to-toe with a bendy-bus and come out ahead!
3. It shows he knows how to save money on petrol ("gas" for the 'Murricans).
4. It shows he's humble enough to splash through the puddles of life with the rest of us.
5. It shows he's smart onna'count obba Fakt that he isn't paying high prices to park an inannimate object.

So what we got here is a guy who wants to be Mayor, who has been putting his actions into words long before he even signed up to be an elected official! You gotta take a guy like this seriously! But even better, you gotta elect him while you got the chance. Real, honest characters who are 'Tellygint and Innerestin' don't come along everyday!

So you can check out Boris at http://www.boris-johnson.com/!

And another thing that I been finking about are the Floods that are happening in England, that everybun is going around saying are happening onna'count ob "Global Warming".

Well, the last time that the area around the Avon, Severn and Upper Thames flooded this bad was back in 1937, and it was "this bad" as in As Bad As It Is Now.

So whut I want to know is this: did the flooding back in 1937 happen onna'count obba Fakt ob "Global Warming", too, or was that just a result obba "normal" flooding that seems to happen in that area every Hunnert Years or so?

Because I have a feeling that alla this Media 'Tention that is being focused on Global Warming might not have anything to do with Global Warming at all, and if it does, it might just be that some of the Warming of the Globe is part of the natural cycle of the planet. That doesn't mean that Hoomins haven't polluted or otherwise harmed the Earth - they have! But it is a little concieted, to my mind, to assign ALL the Bad Things that are going on to the effects of one puny species.

The Globe may indeed be warming, but it might be doing it without consulting enny of the hoomins currently living on its skin!

This weekend was inneresting here at Our Warren. Maman discovered that we eat a head of Romaine-per-day. Dadda said that this is quite A Lot and that we are going to have to find a way to grow it for ourselves On Peat. Maman said that she has deep Reservations about this.

Dadda said that you can grow most anything On Peat. So Maman asked him if he knew how. He said he knew how In Theory. Maman said she knows how to play the bagpipes "In Theory" but you don't hear her bothering the neighbours by doing it.

Dadda said "It's Not The Same".

And Maman agrees with MissyBun that we probably haven't heard the last of this, but we'd be better off if we had.

-----------------------------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 6:57 AM EDT

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So here's the deal. You haven't seen me, George, because I, George, have been on Vaykayshun with My Beautiful Bunny-Gurl ob Gen'rous P'porshuns, MissyBun. And everything was going more or less fine until Missy got sick.

She got these *molar spurs* on the back of ONE tooth, and it hurt to chew (because she is a sensitive bunny), but being HouseRabbits, we had No Way of telling anybunny this.

So we played the old "Twenty Questions" Game Show with Maman and Dr Sharin and her associate, Dr David. It was not fun, lemme tell you.

We wound up in the Hospiddle, Missy and me in seperate acommodations but next to each other while we played "Twenty More Questions" about Whut's Wrong With Missy?

And I wanted to shout out, "Hey! Stoopit! It's her teeth!"

But, being a HouseRabbit, I couldn't do that, so we sat there for a couple of days while everyone took blood, ran tests and Maman kept sending Dadda out to buy ever more exotic kinds of salad for us. I ate Missy's share for her since she couldn't chew.

And Missy lost weight and looked distressed.

So I sat there, waving my ears and wondering and all, and telling Missy that they'd figure it out eventually, and lo and behold! Yeah, they finally did. Dr David gave her some drugs, she went to sleep and they looked into the little bunny-mouth and there were the little spurs, right on her last molar.

So Dr David filed them down and sent MissyBun and me home with some meddysin for Missy and Maman had Dadda spend about a lotta munny on more salad.

So now we're getting TWO BIG salads a day insted of one, and of course all the hay we can eat, and I still have a few pellets in the bottom of my pellet crock if I want a snack. And there are carrots, raisins and apples, too, except we're usually too full to eat them. Mr Mouse says all this extra food is great, because his salads have gotten piled higher until there's no way he can finish his evening salad until morning, and Dusty and Foxie are impressed by the quality of the eats around here. Missy seems to be gaining weight and that's good, and now Maman is trying to send Our Lad Phil out into the Gardin to collect more clover and mint for her. She said there is no end to what a guy will do for 'lektronicks. There probably is, but she's pretty sure there isn't.

So anyways, we're still on vacation.

But I'm thinking of becoming a Reporter. You know, like in a newspaper.

Maman and I read the Newspapers together every morning, and I have decided that just like Belinda used to use her Blog to comment on the news, I would use the Blog, The Hay Diaries, to report good news that I find in the places I read.

Like this bit I found in the Philadelphia Inquirer "Sideshow" column today: "A photog for celeb Web site TMZ.com took a few minutes' break from snapping the rich and famous over the weekend to save Paris Hilton's new Yorkie puppy from wandering into the street in front of her Malibu beach house."

Now that's Good News! Papparazzi don't often do good things for anyone. They're usually so obsessed with what they see in their lens that they don't see anything else, and if they do see anything else, they'll let the "something else" happen, even if it's bad, just to get the picture of it. Saving Paris Hilton's dog isn't usually news, whereas Paris Hilton's dog getting hit by a car would be news. But this photographer saved the dog's life, even without getting a picture!

That's the kind of Good News that won't make a big deal in the papers or on E! or Access Hollywood, but it's the kind of news that I think people need to know.

Because every act of kindness could generate another act of kindness.

Good can spread. If we spread it.

Look at Philadelphia this week-end: 36 shootings, 6 deaths and 0 witnesses. What does that tell you? That there are a whole lot of people out there who are letting badness spread around like a disease.

Now I think there are more good people in Philadelphia than there are bad people. And if the good people ever got together, they would just force the bad people to be good or leave. The are just not enough bad people to go around once the good people start to roll!

So let's begin.

I will report Good News searched out from Newspapers Everywhere and report it here in The Hay Diaries. Beginning August First, the First Day of my Eigth Strand. Our Warren's Bim used to say "Evil triumphs when good men do nothing." That probably applies to HouseRabbits, too. So I will begin something good, on my onliest.

Look for it!

-------------------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:16 AM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, 24 July 2007 9:16 AM EDT

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So here's the deal. You haven't seen me, George, because I, George, have been on Vaykayshun with My Beautiful Bunny-Gurl ob Gen'rous P'porshuns, MissyBun. And everything was going more or less fine until Missy got sick.

She got these *molar spurs* on the back of ONE tooth, and it hurt to chew (because she is a sensitive bunny), but being HouseRabbits, we had No Way of telling anybunny this.

So we played the old "Twenty Questions" Game Show with Maman and Dr Sharin and her associate, Dr David. It was not fun, lemme tell you.

We wound up in the Hospiddle, Missy and me in seperate acommodations but next to each other while we played "Twenty More Questions" about Whut's Wrong With Missy?

And I wanted to shout out, "Hey! Stoopit! It's her teeth!"

But, being a HouseRabbit, I couldn't do that, so we sat there for a couple of days while everyone took blood, ran tests and Maman kept sending Dadda out to buy ever more exotic kinds of salad for us. I ate Missy's share for her since she couldn't chew.

And Missy lost weight and looked distressed.

So I sat there, waving my ears and wondering and all, and telling Missy that they'd figure it out eventually, and lo and behold! Yeah, they finally did. Dr David gave her some drugs, she went to sleep and they looked into the little bunny-mouth and there were the little spurs, right on her last molar.

So Dr David filed them down and sent MissyBun and me home with some meddysin for Missy and Maman had Dadda spend about a lotta munny on more salad.

So now we're getting TWO BIG salads a day insted of one, and of course all the hay we can eat, and I still have a few pellets in the bottom of my pellet crock if I want a snack. And there are carrots, raisins and apples, too, except we're usually too full to eat them. Mr Mouse says all this extra food is great, because his salads have gotten piled higher until there's no way he can finish his evening salad until morning, and Dusty and Foxie are impressed by the quality of the eats around here. Missy seems to be gaining weight and that's good, and now Maman is trying to send Our Lad Phil out into the Gardin to collect more clover and mint for her. She said there is no end to what a guy will do for 'lektronicks. There probably is, but she's pretty sure there isn't.

So anyways, we're still on vacation.

But I'm thinking of becoming a Reporter. You know, like in a newspaper.

Maman and I read the Newspapers together every morning, and I have decided that just like Belinda used to use her Blog to comment on the news, I would use the Blog, The Hay Diaries, to report good news that I find in the places I read.

Like this bit I found in the Philadelphia Inquirer "Sideshow" column today: "A photog for celeb Web site TMZ.com took a few minutes' break from snapping the rich and famous over the weekend to save Paris Hilton's new Yorkie puppy from wandering into the street in front of her Malibu beach house."

Now that's Good News! Papparazzi don't often do good things for anyone. They're usually so obsessed with what they see in their lens that they don't see anything else, and if they do see anything else, they'll let the "something else" happen, even if it's bad, just to get the picture of it. Saving Paris Hilton's dog isn't usually news, whereas Paris Hilton's dog getting hit by a car would be news. But this photographer saved the dog's life, even without getting a picture!

That's the kind of Good News that won't make a big deal in the papers or on E! or Access Hollywood, but it's the kind of news that I think people need to know.

Because every act of kindness could generate another act of kindness.

Good can spread. If we spread it.

Look at Philadelphia this week-end: 36 shootings, 6 deaths and 0 witnesses. What does that tell you? That there are a whole lot of people out there who are letting badness spread around like a disease.

Now I think there are more good people in Philadelphia than there are bad people. And if the good people ever got together, they would just force the bad people to be good or leave. The are just not enough bad people to go around once the good people start to roll!

So let's begin.

I will report Good News searched out from Newspapers Everywhere and report it here in The Hay Diaries. Beginning August First, the First Day of my Eigth Strand. Our Warren's Bim used to say "Evil triumphs when good men do nothing." That probably applies to HouseRabbits, too. So I will begin something good, on my onliest.

Look for it!

-------------------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:15 AM EDT

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So here's the deal. You haven't seen me, George, because I, George, have been on Vaykayshun with My Beautiful Bunny-Gurl ob Gen'rous P'porshuns, MissyBun. And everything was going more or less fine until Missy got sick.

She got these *molar spurs* on the back of ONE tooth, and it hurt to chew (because she is a sensitive bunny), but being HouseRabbits, we had No Way of telling anybunny this.

So we played the old "Twenty Questions" Game Show with Maman and Dr Sharin and her associate, Dr David. It was not fun, lemme tell you.

We wound up in the Hospiddle, Missy and me in seperate acommodations but next to each other while we played "Twenty More Questions" about Whut's Wrong With Missy?

And I wanted to shout out, "Hey! Stoopit! It's her teeth!"

But, being a HouseRabbit, I couldn't do that, so we sat there for a couple of days while everyone took blood, ran tests and Maman kept sending Dadda out to buy ever more exotic kinds of salad for us. I ate Missy's share for her since she couldn't chew.

And Missy lost weight and looked distressed.

So I sat there, waving my ears and wondering and all, and telling Missy that they'd figure it out eventually, and lo and behold! Yeah, they finally did. Dr David gave her some drugs, she went to sleep and they looked into the little bunny-mouth and there were the little spurs, right on her last molar.

So Dr David filed them down and sent MissyBun and me home with some meddysin for Missy and Maman had Dadda spend about a lotta munny on more salad.

So now we're getting TWO BIG salads a day insted of one, and of course all the hay we can eat, and I still have a few pellets in the bottom of my pellet crock if I want a snack. And there are carrots, raisins and apples, too, except we're usually too full to eat them. Mr Mouse says all this extra food is great, because his salads have gotten piled higher until there's no way he can finish his evening salad until morning, and Dusty and Foxie are impressed by the quality of the eats around here. Missy seems to be gaining weight and that's good, and now Maman is trying to send Our Lad Phil out into the Gardin to collect more clover and mint for her. She said there is no end to what a guy will do for 'lektronicks. There probably is, but she's pretty sure there isn't.

So anyways, we're still on vacation.

But I'm thinking of becoming a Reporter. You know, like in a newspaper.

Maman and I read the Newspapers together every morning, and I have decided that just like Belinda used to use her Blog to comment on the news, I would use the Blog, The Hay Diaries, to report good news that I find in the places I read.

Like this bit I found in the Philadelphia Inquirer "Sideshow" column today: "A photog for celeb Web site TMZ.com took a few minutes' break from snapping the rich and famous over the weekend to save Paris Hilton's new Yorkie puppy from wandering into the street in front of her Malibu beach house."

Now that's Good News! Papparazzi don't often do good things for anyone. They're usually so obsessed with what they see in their lens that they don't see anything else, and if they do see anything else, they'll let the "something else" happen, even if it's bad, just to get the picture of it. Saving Paris Hilton's dog isn't usually news, whereas Paris Hilton's dog getting hit by a car would be news. But this photographer saved the dog's life, even without getting a picture!

That's the kind of Good News that won't make a big deal in the papers or on E! or Access Hollywood, but it's the kind of news that I think people need to know.

Because every act of kindness could generate another act of kindness.

Good can spread. If we spread it.

Look at Philadelphia this week-end: 36 shootings, 6 deaths and 0 witnesses. What does that tell you? That there are a whole lot of people out there who are letting badness spread around like a disease.

Now I think there are more good people in Philadelphia than there are bad people. And if the good people ever got together, they would just force the bad people to be good or leave. The are just not enough bad people to go around once the good people start to roll!

So let's begin.

I will report Good News searched out from Newspapers Everywhere and report it here in The Hay Diaries. Beginning August First, the First Day of my Eigth Strand. Our Warren's Bim used to say "Evil triumphs when good men do nothing." That probably applies to HouseRabbits, too. So I will begin something good, on my onliest.

Look for it!

-------------------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:13 AM EDT

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Fank you, Foxie, for that inner'resting post.

Ebberybunny needs an Opening Act Bunny, and she's a Good One, when you come to fink aboud'it - widdle, cute, energtic and willing to fit in. Which are all Good Qualities to hab!

I'm not saying enny'Fing is wrong heer at Our Warren, but it is.

Hokay, so Maman had Missy and me atta V-E-T's again yestidday onna'count obba Fakt dat it looked a whole lot like I, George, bit MissyBun onna shoulder.

And afta Dr Sharin looked at MissyBun's shoulder, it looked a whole lot *more* like I had bitten her onna shoulder.

Anna Fakt Obba Madder is dat I did bite MissyBun onna Shoulder.

And that's the Fing ob It...

Maman is used to me being "Babby George", cute and snuggly, which I am. And Missy is used to me being Attentive, Grooming George, which I also am.

But this having Dusty around...

And it's not Dusty as Dusty that bothers me. I mean, he's hokay. He's a bunny-in-need and we got whut he needs. Maman got him nootered so he doesn't stink ennymore (which issa very good fing!) and so he isn't so bouncey ennymore and so he isn't allus grabbing alla 'tenshun away frum ebberybunny else alla time (which is 'portant).

Da Fing is...

Maman allus comes innu da Bun Room to get sum milk to put innu her coffee and she allus whispers, "Hello George!"

And I am pleased. I know my name. I hear my name and I wave my ears to show that I am pleased. It is a subtle fing, but it is Our Fing. It makes us bof a widdle happy and because I am happy, I go and give Missy a few liddle licks on top ob her ears. And den Missy is happy and she smiles at Mouse. And Maman goes past Mouse on her way out wiffa milk for her coffee and whispers, "Hello Mouskus!" and he waves his ears and he is happy, too.

And it usta be like Our Liddle Sekret, Maman and me whispering "Hello George!" and me waving my ears; me grooming Missy and her smiling, and then Maman whispering to Mouse and him being happy, too. It does not take much to make us happy, you know?

But Now Maman comes innu da Bun Room to get milk for her coffee and she whispers, "Hello George!" and alla sudden, there's a Dusty-hextplosion frumma habbytat nextest-door, wif Dusty runnning back and forth, and putting up his paws and bouncing offa habbytat walls and yelling,

"Me! Me! Over here! Here I am! Me!"

And our Happy Momint of Liddle Quiet Fings is all gone.

And Maman breaks the rhyme obba Happy Momint and has to step ober to where Dusty is and and talk Out Loud (insted ob whisper) and say, "Hello Dusty to you, too! Maman's pretty boy! Calm down. Have a pet-onna-nose. Calm down, Dusty. Calm down! Yes, we love you, too!"

And then she stops to bend down to where Foxie is and says "Hello little Foxie Gurl! Yes, we love you, too, Liddle Foxie Lady!"

But the "Momint" is broken, don't you see? Our Momint wif Maman is all messed up. It isn't how it allus usta be alla time bifore there wassa Dusty or a Foxie. It is just now being all messed up because now they are here.

And Dr Sharin sed, yestidday, "Well, I could foster Dusty for you." but she didn't seem to hab much hope. She ebben offered to hextchange bunnies wif us!

But Maman sed, "I don't know why George won't get along. He usta get along before when we had Clover and Beebe - but he was introduced to them by Belinda and Hunny. We had Top Buns in those days, but noBun has stepped forward to take over being Top Bun."

And Dadda sed, "There was no need for ennybun to be a Top Bun. They all knew their place from Before."

And I'm finking, "It's not me who is not Getting Along. Da Fing Is issat Dusty is not Getting Along wif us."

And Missy was sitting inna carrier nextest to me looking all puffy and pretty and sad.

And Maman sed, "I can't be habbin' da Warren torn apart wike dis."

And Dr Sharin sed, "I have had this same Fing happin in my Warren, too. My Thumper bit me over a new bunny."

And Maman and Dadda talked aboud'dit alla way home inna car.

Da Fing Is, I tried to tell Maman frumma backseat, is dat I, George, usta be Furst, alla time. But dat was because I wassa "Babby George". Now, though, I am Grown-Up, 'Tellygint George and I know Fings. I bemember How Fings Were and How They Should Be:

"Hello George"

It was justa liddle whisper, but it was my whisper frum Maman and I would wave my ears.

No banging around from nextest door, no hextplosions ob bunny-energy or binkies offa walls. No desperate pleas of "Here! Here! Me! Me!" until she stopped and petted sumbun else.

Just quiet and whisperings like conspirators ob affectshun.

And there especially shouldn't be, as Dusty bounces and races around his habbytat, that Fear you see suddinly spring up behind Maman's eyes, a Fear Frum Long Ago - wif werds: "Shut up! Shut up! Don't wake anyone, don't bring 'them' innuit! Shhhh! Shhhh..." Because there is somefing inside Maman that is still a skert bunny who looks and runs and only comes out later, when it is silent out and nothing moves...

And Dusty wakes that bunny up in her, when it should be left to sleep.

Dat's da Fing.

He shatteres da Quiet Fing dat Our Warren knows that he hasn't Lerned. Belinda knew about the Quiet Fing, and so did Hunny. And if Dusty wuld Only Shut Up, he could lern, too, because I would tell him. Bunnies tell each udder about dere Mawmies and Daddas, about da History and Tradishuns obba Warren, and it is called Da Lore (I have told you dis Bifore).

It's not only hoomins dat figger out their bunnies; their houserabbits figger them out in return. And Each Bunny learns frumma bunnies who are already there.

But Dusty isn't stopping to learn. Foxie is learning, though. She is learning fast and will fit right in. She knows how to be Cute, like me, and how to be Quiet, like Missy, and how to be Feisty, like Mouse. All at dif'frunt times. But Dusty needs to slow down to lern. Rushing to the Frunt might make him noticed, but not inna Good Way.

And dat's da Fing, as it is, so to speak. Da Fing Is, I didn't mean to bite Missy. I didn't mean to be out of sorts. It's not me, not George, but I am not a Babby for ennybun except Maman, and just George only for Missy.

To da Udders, da Fing is, I fink I might hafta become Top Bun.

------------------------ By George  

Posted by Our Warren at 8:10 AM EDT

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George ain't heer -------------------->

<------------------- So --------------------- *teehee!* (I am!) ...................... AND SO ...

So... I gotta liddle song I maked up.... I will sing it now... so... (fibe,six,seben,ate)

I, I (who?) Me! Meee! *twirl*

I'm gonna-gonna-gonna

Sing-a-little (very little!) *hop-hop-hop*

Teeny tiny (very smallish!) *ear-twinkle*

BUNNY SONG! *binky-hop*

It's Alla'bouta'bouta alla'bouta *hop-slide*

Very tiny, liddle-bitty-VERY small! *binky*

Bunny-girl-that's just arrived  *twirrrrrl*

HEEEEEEEEEERE! *hop-binky-hop*

And dat's ME! Dat's me! *slide-binky-twirl*

And dat's right! All right? All right! *hop-hop-slide*

Dat's ME! Foxie! *Bunny giggle*

------- Fank you berry much and I'm shure George will be back berry, berry soonest! Wif Luv, frum Me, Foxie! *bunny-kisses are da bestest!*

Posted by Our Warren at 9:55 PM EDT

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Well, here we go again! Anudder Spa Day has arrived for Da Dawg and Cokie-da-Fat-Cat.

So dis morning, I was mooching around in Maman's Study wif Missy, and Cokie-da-Fat-Cat was asleep onna Liddle Bafroom Floor. Dis was onna'count obba Fakt datta floor in there hadda Liddle Breeze, and he was sort ob enjoying it by habin' a Liddle Nap.

So I was just *there* around Maman's desk. You know, not doing ennyfing in partikular, just sort ob whiskerin' around unner'neaf ob her desk (which happins to be a table) and not paying much attention to ennyfing becos Cokie was doing his impression obba Ded-Cat and it's hot outside and dere is Nuffin' Going On, more or less, when heer comes Maman and she's gotta tellyphone in her hand, and she's talkin'.

And so I hop up onna foo-ton and MissyBun dashes unner'neaf obba desk. And Cokie goes on sleepin' in his Liddle Breeze onna floor inna Liddle Bafroom dat is just offa Maman's Study.

And Maman's talkin' to Auntie Michelle onna tellyphone.

And alla suddin, Maman hollers, "Oh my goodness! Dere he is! Lemme shut da door, Michelle!"

And Maman pulls uppa corner obba rug wif her foot and shuts da door between her Study anna Landing dat leads to da Liberry and Dadda's Office.

And den Maman just sits down atta desk. And she's wike, "Sorry Michelle, but Cokie's going to the Spa today and shutting the door will keep Brian and me from having to chase him all over the house. You have no idea how many bolt-holes a 40-pound Maine Coon can find in one house!"

And then Maman and Auntie Michelle went on to talk about Auntie Patricia and SA and SpiceyBunny whose phone number they hab Lost.

So Missy pokes her nose out frum unner'neaf obba desk and hollars, "Hey Cat!"

And Cokie, who is inna Liddle Bafroom, lying onna Liddle Square ob floor in dere, enjoying da Liddle Breeze looks ups, and he's, like, "Whut?"

And Missy says, "Guess whut?"

And Cokie says, "Dis bedder be good onna'count obba Fakt I wassa'leep and you waked me up."

And Missy raises up her ears and seys, "Well, you bedda find a place to hide."

And just den, outside obba door, I hear Da Dawg come barrelling Uppystairs. Now he hextpekted da door to Maman's Study to be open, onna'count obba Fakt dat it allus is - but dis time, since Maman shut it, it's closed, and so, ob course, Da Dawg runs innu it, Full Tilt.

There is a *bang* assa Dawg bounces off. 

And frumma Liddle Bafroom comes da Cokie-Cat voice: "Whuttaheck wassat?"

And Missy says, "Dat wassa Dawg slamming innu da door."

And Cokie is wike, "How come he slammed innu da door?"

And MissyBun chuckles, "Onna'count obba Fakt he's Stoopit. Maman shut it."

So Cokie struggles up innu a sitting position (which is preddy hard for him becos he's obba Berry Round Pursasion) and he says, "She did whut?"

"Maman closed da door toda Study." Says Missy, wif a lotta satysfakshun. "Mainly to trap you in here. Tidday is Spa Day!"

And *dat* preddy much got Cokie's full attenshun. So he stands up alla way and comes stumping outta da Liddle Bafroom just as Maman hangs uppa phone wif Auntie Michelle.

At which point, Dadda opins da door, and Maman hollars, "Shut da door! I gotta Cat trapped in here!"

And Dadda pulls da door shut and shouts back, "I know!"

Which shows you how switched on they are. 

So Maman scoops up MissyBun and tosses her up onna Foo-ton wif me.

And Missy snuggles down and says to me, "Watch dis. It's gonna ged good."

So Dadda opins da door again, starts coming in, but Maman is onna udder side and starts pushing it shut, squealing, "He's coming out behind da foo-ton!"

And Dadda sticks his foot through the door, which preddy much stops Cokie on his mission ob oozing outta door via behind-da-footon, but gets Dadda's leg caught inna door. So he yells, "Ouch!" and den, "Damnit!" and Maman lets go obba door-knob.

So Dadda manages to squeeze in, leebing Da Dawg onna udder side obba door...

...Where he starts peeping onna'count obba Fakt dat he's gonna miss ebberyfing.

So ennyways, habbing failed to ooz, Cokie has taken refuge unner'neaf obba foo-ton to weigh his options.

And Dadda goes innu da Liddle Bafroom and geds out Mr Broom.

"Whut's dat for?" axts Maman.

"To get outta cat." says Dadda, pokin' Mr Broom unner'neaf obba foo-ton.

So Dadda's pokin away, but dere is no Cokie-Cat coming out.

So Maman says, "It's not werkin'." (She hassa'hextalent Grasp Obba Obvious, Dadda says.)

So Dadda stops pokin' and starts sweeping wiffa Broom, and suddinly out pops Cokie, paddling at high speeds towards Maman's maple rocking chair inna corner byda bookshelves.

And just as Cokie is about to turn da corner dat would ged him by da Attik Door, Maman falls forwards and grabs him byda shoulders.

And outside da Study Door, Da Dawg is keeping up his Collie Anxiety-Peep.

And Dadda hollars, "Shaddup, Marc!"

Which makes Da Dawg change toda Collie Anxiety-Yip, mainly onna'count obba Fakt he wassa'ware dat dere was gonna be *some* kinda Cat-Herding going on (which he finks is Wunna His Jobs) and he was Being Left Out (unbearable fora Collie!) and Not Gonna Be Part Obba It.

So we gotta Dawg onna Wrong Side Obba Door, doing Da Collie Anxiety-Yip, anna Cokie-Cat onna Right Side Obba Door doing Da Cat Anxiety-Wail onna'count obba Fakt dat Maman had him pinned down onna carpet byda shoulders.

And here comes Dadda wiffa carrier!

"Wait for it." Says MissyBun to me onna foo-ton. "Dis is gonna get gooder."

So Dadda puts da carrier down onna floor and says to Maman, "Do you mind shifting yourself slightly to the left, my darling?"

And he says it dis way onna'count obba Fakt dat becos the way they are squeezed in between da rocking chair anna bookcase, he is addressing her butt.

And Maman, who is getting dizzy, says, "Whut?"

And Dadda says, "You gotta shift ober toda left so I can ged in there."

And he's pushing the carrier forwards, inna gen'ral direkkshun ob Cokie's rear-sekshun, which is sorta poking out between Maman's legs unner'neaf ob her long skirt.

Did I menshun dat dere is not a lotta light back in dat corner where they are?

So ennyways, da Cokie-Cat is going on wif his Anxiety-Wail.

And Dadda is wike, "Dear,"

And Maman, who is pracktikly almost upside down, but still hanging on toda Cat byda shoulders is wike, "Brian, whut are you doing?"

And Dadda is pushing da cat-carrier forwards towards da Cokie-butt.

And Maman is wike, "You can't load him in rear-first!"

And Dadda is wike, "Sure we can. Step toda left-hand down a bit, love."

So Maman moves ober, and Dadda gets a grip onna Cat and starts stuffing him backwards innu da carrier.

And Maman is wike, "You know, we could just pik him up and load him innu da top wike a sak ob potatoes."

And Dadda is wike, "No, dis will werk."

And da whole time, Cokie is wailin', "Nooooooooooooo!" while he's being steadily pulled back innu da carrier against his will.

"He's diggin' in." Maman says. And she leans ober to start piking at his paws wun'atta'time, but as soon as she gets one paw free, da udder paw digs right in.

And Dadda's still pulling Cokie innu da carrier, hand ober hand. And onna udder side obba door, Da Dawg is still Yipping Away and now he's started Scratching atta door.

So Maman yells, "Stop it, Marc!"

And Marc stops Yipping and switches over to outright Barking, just in case no one has heard him previously.

And Missy and I are still up onna Foo-ton, outta da way.

So just den, Dadda reaches ober da carrier, grabs bof ob Cokie's paws. And there's a last, pitiful "NOOooooo!" wail, anna door onna carrier clangs shut.

"We did it." Says Dadda.

So he bends down and piks uppa carrier ("He's too hebby to use da handle." Dadda says. "It'll break right off.") and Maman gets da Door Opin.

And in tumbles Da Dawg, but it's Too Late. Da Herding is Ober. 

So Dadda carries Cokie-Inna-Carrier Downnastairs and Outta Frunt Door.

And Missy and I hear Maman say toda Dawg, "You wanna Go For A Ride Inna Car?"

And ob course Da Dawg is Stoopit, and ob course, he is Oberjoyed to Go For A Ride Inna Car! He ebben goes and gets his own Leash.

You just can't quite put a price on dat kinda Stoopitity.

So now Cokie-da-Fat-Cat and Marc-da-Border-Collie-Dawg are Gone, bof obb'em off toda Spa, and Maman is onna Phone again.

She is saying somefing about "Habbin' Foxie's stitches taken out on Saturday and would there be additional appointments open for Two Well-Bunny Check-ups? Dat would be for Mr Mouse and..."

Oh NO! You goddabe kiddin'me!

"George!"

------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 11:25 AM EDT

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Maman sed it's geddin' to be wike where you need a Playbill & Program Notes just to find your way around dis place : there is so much Buggering About that it is hard to keep trak ob EbberyBunny. Sus'pecially now that Dusty and Lightning (not her reel Name) hab mooved in.

Part obba Problem issat "Lightning" came wiffa wrong name attached. The Other Part obba Problem was that the People Who Owned Her Bifor Dusty's Mom thought she was a Boy-Bunny and named her "Lightning". Well, ob course, *dat* was all wrong! She spent a lotta time telling them that her name was "Ms Fox", but nobunny would listen to her. Then again, since they just went away and left her at Dusty's Mom's House, they really didn't want to habba Bunny very much inna Furst Place.

And then Dusty's Mom didn't know that "Lightning's" name was really "Ms Fox" either, and she didn't know that Ms Fox was a girl, either. So that was pretty frustrating, too. And then she got heer, where we're sus'posed to know dis kinda Fing, and alla Hoomins were still calling her "Lightning", which wasn't her name.

So that was a Preddy Big Frustration, until Dr Sharin got it all sorted out. But Fox is still rilly upset and mad about da whole Fing and refuses to let Maman take her pikchur. She has bited da camera fingy several times now, so Maman just sorta Gave Up until afta Wednesday when Foxy is going toda V-E-T's in order to be fixed (and she is not broken!).

But ennyway, Maman does habba pikchur ob Dusty, who Phil is callin' "DustMop", "DustBuster", "Da Duster", and such. Dusty doesn't care, just as long as Phil pets him. I have never seed such a bunny for pets! Dusty is wike sum sorta Frantik Furball who is terrified sumbun is gonna ignore him. As if! As soon as sumbunny walks innu da Bun Room, he's Right There, in your face, up close and geddin' per'sonal. Maman sed she finks dis behaviour will stop whin he's had his berries piked. Can't come soon enuf for me!

Next ober is Mr Mouse and he's still Not Talkin' to Maman. He's decided to talk to Dadda, but not to Maman. She still has Cooties for lettin' Dusty and Foxy be heer, and ebbery time she comes innu da Bun Room, Mouse jumps up to give her the RBB. He sat atta udder side obba sofa inna Sitting Room to watch "Law & Order" last nite and gave her the RBB frum there during the commercials.

Then there is MissyBun and me, George. Maman says Missy is like a little old newsbag, because she hasta periscope and stand on tippy-toe ebbery nite to tell Maman Whut's Going On inna Bun Room, just like Belinda Bunny used to. Maman finks dat's onna'count obba Fakt dat Missy finks she's TopBun-in-charge ob ebberybun, but axtchully, it's because Missy wants her Salad Furst and is making shure dat Maman brings it in dis direkshun bifore she goes ennywheres else. Wast nite Missy ebben stole my Parsley Sprigs bifore Maman set my Romaine Cup down inside ob our Habbytat! But it was hokay because Maman went and got me some more, but it was kinda wike Da Nerve, you know?

And then there issa Sus'porting Cast,

 Which wuld be Da Dawg & Cokie-da-Fat-Cat,

Beep-da-Udder-Cat,

Our Guy Phil,

Sistah Beffy & Annastasia

And Maman and Dadda.

And that would be Alla Us Togedder who are libbin' heer at Our Warren!

-----------------------------By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 6:17 AM EDT

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Furst, Mr Mouse wants to say dat if bunnies could Vote inna coming 'Lekshuns, he would Vote for Fred Thompson for Pressydent onna'count obba Fakt dat his last Job was assa wily Distrikt At'turny on "Law & Order" which is Mr Mouse's favourite TV show. And Mr Mouse would sum day like to make a *guest appaerance* on "Law & Order", assa Companion Rabbit to Jack McCoy!

So ennyways, yestidday, bifore da Big Thunderstorms (Paw-waves to Little Ashy!), sum Friends dropped by. Dere was Mister Walt, Missus Mimi and Sherri. (Dey smelled ob ferrets!) And Sherri bringed her bunnies, Dusty and Lightning in carriers. And inna liddle while, afta sitting out onna Screen Porch wif Mr Mouse, Mister Walt and Dadda bringed in habbytats filled wif pine shabings.

And I'm wike, "Whut?" Because we'd alreddy had our Playtime onna Screen Porch and all I wanted to do was to habba nap, you know?

So da udder hoomins left, and Maman and Dadda let Dusty innu Beebe and Clover's (God Bless them!) old habbytat dat had been sitting out onna Screen Porch. So we, Alla Us Togedder, got to see Dusty, close-up-wike.

And Dusty came tumblin' outta da carrier and was wike, "Oh my paws and whiskers! Where am I? Where's my mawmie?"

And I'm wike, "You're at Our Warren. I'm George. Dis is Missy, and ober dere is Mouse..."

And right away Dusty starts running in circkles. "Where am I? Where am I? Where's mawmie?"

Mouse, who was preddy grumpy ennyways onna'count obba Fakt dat his Playtime had been ober and was in his habbytat, went, "Shaddup! You are at Our Warren and it is time for treats. Hang on and you'll gedda Baby Organic Carrot inna minit."

And Dusty stoped, and periscops and Missy axted Mouse, "Whattaheck?"

And Mouse sed, "Well, looks to me wike a juvenile grey-and-white miniLop wif serious dependancy issues. We talkin' Big Ishoos here."

And Missy went innu loaf-position onna pootie-box wiffa *snort* and sed, "I'm da Top miniLop around heer! And as far as I see, I don't gots no Dependancy Ishoos. I got udder Ishoos, wike 'Where's Da Food?' Ishoos."

And Dusty was running around in circkles again, yellin' "Where am I? Lemme out! Where's mawmie! Pet me! Pet me! Pet me!"

So den Dadda came in and he's got dis udder bunny inna smaller habbytat dat's not like da habbytats dat we hab. And Dadda says to Maman, "Dis will hab to do until we can get one or the other bonded to somebunny else."

And da little, tiny noo bunny inna Temp'rary Habbytat issa rilly teeny, tiny bunny who is marked up just wike a Tiny Edition obba English Spot bunny! 'Cept alla spots anna "butterfly" on his teensy nose are brown!

So he's just sitting there, looking at his noo pootie-pan and noo wadder crock and I call ober da side ob my habbytat, "Hello liddle bunny!"

And he's wike, "Who are you?"

And I'm wike, "I am George ob Our Warren, and dis is my bondmate, MissyBun, my Big, Beautiful Bunny Gurl ob Gen'rus P'porshuns. And accrosst frum you is Mr Mouse.Are you a reskew?" I axted him. "Onna'count obba Fakt dat we are all reskews heer, so don't be ashamed to say it if you are."

And just at dat minit, Dadda came by and Dusty starts running around in circkles, yellin', "Hey! You! Pet me! Pet me! Pet me! Pick me up!" And periscoping for all he's worth.

Anna Little Bunny says, "Dusty's a Seriously Needy Bunny. Our Mawmie picked him up and carried him around alla time. He's nebber been on his own."

And I'm wike, "Whut happined dat you are here?"

Anna Little Bunny sed, "I dunno, extactly. Sumfing to do wif cats, dawgs, ferrets and too menny ob us in one place dat needed reskewing." He looked sad for a minit. "We habba nice Mawmie. She is my Sekond Home and my Furst Reskew." And he sighed. "I guess dis is my Third home?"

"Well, it's preddy much gonna be your Forebber Home." Sed Mouse. "Is your last name 'Fosta' by enny chance? Because ebberybunny I ebber met wiffa last name ob 'Fosta' ends up finding their Forebber Home wif sumbunny who issa member ob dis Fing called 'PetBunny' where hoomins hab 'Sucker Lights' dat go off alla'time. And guess whut? Our Maman issa member ob 'PetBunny'."

And just then, Dadda walked by again, prompting Dusty innu anudder outburst ob "Pick me up! Pick me up! Pet me! Pet me! Hey! You! Look at me! Pet me!" and running around like a nut-bag.

So Little Bunny sed, "I don't habba'nudder name. Just 'Lightning' and I don't believe dat's my Name."

And Mouse sed, "Well, don't werry aboud'did. Just wait until you feel comfortable and den you can tell us your real Name. We know how Important reel Names are to bunnies. Dis issa reel Warren, afta all, but beware - Maman will prob'ly gib you some Stoopit Name inna meantime, wike she gave to George."

Anna little bunny poked up his tiny nose and axted me, "Whut Stoopit Name did she gib to you bifore you told her your reel Name?"

And I sed, "She called me 'George', and it wasn't a Stoopit Name. I wassa Babby Bunny when I arrived, a Bunny-Inna-Box Easter Dump without any Name at all, and I *liked* the feel obba name ob 'George'; it was berry 'me', so I keept it!"

And the Little Bunny sed, "Good choice. I hope she gibs me a Stoopit Name I like, too! Because I wassa Left-Behind-Bunny bifore I was taken in by Mawmie Sherri. The kind ob Bunny-inna-habbytat dat gets left behind whin ebberybunny inna houz mooves away. Luckily Mawmie Sherri wassa kind mawmie and took me in. And now she's found me a Forever Home." The Little Bunny periscoped. "Looks pretty nice here. I smell you gots catz anna dawg."

Posted by Our Warren at 10:43 AM EDT

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"Yeah." Sed Mr Mouse. "Furst you pee on eidder da Dawg or a Cat, whichebber is closer, and den *thump*. When you *thump* da Dawg is trained to go get Dadda. And Dadda will be all grumpy and will start to boil wadder to make a Cuppa'Tea, and while dat is going on, he will putta Dawg outside inna Back Gardin to go On Patrol, no madder iffa Dawg wants to go or not, and he will send any Catz Uppystairs to dere 'Partmint, where they will Sulk. Mebbe I will ged to show you later."

"Wow!" Hextclaimed da Little Not-Lightning Bunny. "You got sum System!"

And right about den, Maman arrived and don't'cha know, Dusty hextploded innu akshun again, yelling "Hey! Wady! Cuddle me! Pet me! Pet me! Pet me!"

And Maman, being Maman, decided we all needed to hab more Purina Bunny Chow. So she gave each ob us sun frumma measuring cup and told Mr Mouse,

"Mouse, frum now on, you are onna diet. You need distilled wadder, fewer calcium loaded greens, and more hay. I am beginning to see some sludge in your urine."

And, well, dat made Mr Mouse more annoyed den he alreddy was wif Dusty's antics. So he went to sit in his corner and gave Maman da RBB.

And Maman opined da Frigerator and axted, "Who wants Salad?" which is Wun ob Her More Stoopit Qwestshuns.

And Missy raised out her ears and was wike, "Whucha'Fink? We all do!"

And Dusty was still bouncing around at high speeds, axtin' for Maman to "Hold me! Pick me up! Pet me! Pet me! Pet me!"

And Maman laffed at him, and sed, "You are a spoilt little miniLop! Just like Hunny! You've wrapped your Mawmie Sherri around your little paw, haven't you?"

And Maman reached innu Dusty's habbytat and was pettin' him! And Dusty was getting hextackly whut he axted for!

And acrosst da way Mr Mouse sed sourly, "It figgers. Dat Bunny-Child has only ebber had good mawmies. Wookit how spoilt! I mean *rilly*!"

And I'm sittin' dere, finkin', and den it dawned on me dat Mr Mouse was preddy spoilt, too. So I'm wike, "Wookit, didn't you start off wiffa good Dadda, too?"

And Mr Mouse was wike, "Yes. A great Dadda. He wuld come home frum werk, and den he and I wuld sit onna sofa, eat cereal and watch 'Law & Order' togedder. Den dat mean wommin he got bonded to made him choose between her and me and LuckieBun. And he didn't want ennybunny habbin' us for snake food or pit-bull practice. So he brought us to Our Warren.Whut obb'it?" 

"Well," I sed, "Wookit Dusty anna Little Not-Lightning Bun dere. Now Little  Not-Lightning Bunny wassa'bandonded, and he got taken in by Dusty's Mawmie Sherri, but wookit Dusty..."

And Missy sed frumma pootie-box, "How can I miss him? He's soaking up alla pets and making our salads late!"

And I'm wike, "Yeah. He's a miniLop, isn't he? And he's grey and white and he looks wike da pikchurs ob Cousin Bailey and Cousin Wally (God bless him!) and they are bof grey-and-white miniLops. And Dusty is eating pellets like dere is no tomorrow. Dat is also a miniLop habit, onna'count obba Fakt dat Auntie Grace and Dadda say miniLops are 'garbage-guts'..."

And Missy glared at me, and was wike, "Waidaminit! I amma miniLop, too! And so is Cousin Sheeba!"

"And bof ob your are or *almost* are Big Beautiful Bunny-Gurls ob Gen'rus P'porshuns." I added, rilly fast (because I might be a lotta kinds ob bunny, but "dumb" isn't wunna dem!). "Dadda and Auntie Grace sed dat miniLops are 'garbage-guts' right afta Murphy ate dat 'Whacky Whipper' and Godiva (Bless him!) ate Auntie Grace's Pink Flip-flop."

"So basically whut you're saying," Sed Mr Mouse frum his corner where he was gibbin' Maman da RBB, "Issat Our Warren is suddenily increased by two because dere wassa 'Sponsible Bunny-Mawmie who loved her bunnies enough to bring dem to Our Warren - Wun nice Dwarf kinda English Spot bunny whose name is Not Lightning, anna stereotypically needy, garbage-gut grey-and-white miniLop named Dusty."

"Yeah, preddy much." I agreed. "No such fing as Strangers, NoBunny OnAlone, just wike Belinda sed."

And we sat around and throught aboud'dis while Maman petted Dusty.

And den MissyBun sat up, put her ears out straight and yelled, "Hey! You! Maman! Stop pettin' dat bunny and ged busy wif dose Salads! I can hear da Standing Clock inna Living Room chiming!"

And Maman stuck her hed up and alla'sudden, rushed off, outta da Bun Room clutching bags frumma 'Frigerator. And preddy soon, we each gotta Romaine Cup wif Curly Parsley, Flat Italian Parlsey, Home-grown Dill Weed, a Peppermint sprig, and two Baby Organic Carrots.

And then some Big Thunderstorms came, so Mr Mouse missed 'Law & Order' and that made him madder than ebber, because Mouse hates enny kind of Change.

He's ebben agreed to help Fred Thompson pose for pikchurs to be Pressydent. For now. Mouse sed da WholeFing might ged infekted by "pollyticks" and dere are no tablets to take for dat, wike da Dawg does for reg'lar ticks. 

And dat's preddy much dat, for now, heer at Our Augemented Warren!

----------------------------- By George!

Posted by Our Warren at 10:34 AM EDT

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Well, it issa Memorial Day HollyDay WeekEnd, and Alla Us Togedder, heer at Our Warren just wanna wish Ebberybunny we know a berry Hoppy and Safe Start toda Summer!

Yeah!

Tiday, Phil-da-Lad, Maman and Dadda are gonna begin setting uppa Screen Porch so we bunnies can hab Our Playtime outside.

The Screen Porch issa Great Place for us to hab Our Playtime, because basikly, it issa whole Room that is Offa Ground by Four Foots, and has no door toda Outside, and is Surrounded by Screens, so there are No Bugs, No Preddytors, and Alla Us Togedder can be outside enjoying breezes anna Wind-Chimes wiffoud habbin' to Werry Aboud EnnyFing.

So we are allus berry hoppy to hab dat room re-opined to us Ebbery Summer!

Yeah!

And dis Memorial Day WeekEnd issa WeekEnd datta ScreenPorch will ged opined!

*Paw-Waves to Lilly and Penny who lib Nextest Door!* (Dey hab their own Screen Porch, too, which is preddy good onna'count ob dem being Dawgs and all, but den, dey habba nice Mawmie, so it kinda figgers, you know?)

So ennyways, Alla Us Togedder are hoping dat alla you will hab Sumfing Good Happin for you onna Memorial Day WeekEnd!

And on Monday, (which issa Real Memorial Day) I hope to tell you aboud'da Memorial Day P-rade where Our Phil is gonna be innit, onna'count obba Fakt dat he issa Navy Veteran. And we also wanna tell aboud Our Auntie Grace, and Unkul Bernie, and Unkul Toby, and Our Bim's Bestest-Friend Dave Sweet (who Flew-Away-and-Nebber-Came-Back) and alla Udder Veterans and hoomins who are Serving Inna Millytary dat we know.

Yeah!

Lotta stuff going on, which is Pretty Good. Maman says we might ebben gedda Flags to hab on our habbytats! Ob course, MissyBun sed we would radder hab summa dat Flat Italian Parsley dat seems to be takin' ober Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Gardin, but she would!

And Maman sed she might tell us suma Da Lore aboud'da Our Bim-inna-Navy inna World War Too, and sum udder parts obba Lore dat she knows.

So all-in-all dere issa Wot To Wook Forwards To.

As Auntie Grace and The Herd in Kin-Tuck-Eee is fond ob sayin' "We March On!"

Yeah!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:23 PM EDT

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