Hokay, I don't get it. I *rilly* don't get it. Mebbe because I am a HouzRabbit or sumfing, but I still just Don't Get It.

I'm here reading NoosPapers with Maman again, like we do early every morning onna'count obba Fakt that Maman issa NoosJunkie and a WedderWeenie.

She said she issa NoosJunkie because she is "incurably curious" (Phil says that means the same fing as being a "gossip" - but Maman says that if she wassa genuine "gossip" she would be having her hair "done" atta House-of-HairSpray near the Old Houz, or belong a Firehouse or Ladies' Auxilliary or go to the wunna the pharmacies inna neighbourhood to get 'prenticed to wunna a genuine GossipMongrel - onna'count obba Fakt she would have to learn frum the genuine GossipMongrels how to get a much more narrow and detailed Presumed Knowlege of local pulp fiction than she can get frum reading The New York Times!).

And Maman issa Wedder Weenie because Wedder makes her sick. She went to bed Lastest Night with a *Rilly* Bad Migraine, so we had Salad Time early. And onna'count of Going To Bed Early, so she Waked Up *rilly* Earlier this morning so we've been reading the NoosPapers togedder being Quiet while Dadda and Da Dawg Sleeped.

So Maman and I are sitting in her Office Chair, reading the NoosPapers, togedder, and almost ebbery wun we read has sum article innit about Climate Change, or the Glaciers Melting, or Global Warming. And the articles were Very Alarming, like they were telling about The End Obba Werld!

And Wunna the Fings all the articles had in common was that they all say that We Are Not doing Enuf to Prevent Disater from happining to Our Very Own Werld.

And then there were more articles telling about how hoomins need to do More Recycling, More Conservation, and have More Resepct for The Planet.

And then Maman I and I read a Coupla'more articles about how ebberybunny needs to Learn the Science of Living Green, and how Science is gonna Save The Werld.

And I'm finking to myself, "Hold onna'sekond. According to the Lore, as it was told to me by Hunny *Senior Bun* of Our Warren, back Inna Beginning of Our Warren, when there was only Two Bunnies inna Warren - meHunny and Heatherington - which would be in 1996 - the Rev'rind Doctor Ginny Sheay who wassa friend of Our Warren's anna Priest of SaintLuke's said,

"We are stewards, not owners of the planet."

And she went on to give a talk, called a "homily" on that subjekt.

Now Wunna The Furst Points she made during this "homily", Hunny said, was that hoomins nebber were In Charge obba Earth!

Nope! Hoomins don't OWN IT!

They didn't make it, so it doesn't Automatically Belong to Them just because they are Here.

And Wunna the Sekond Points that she made wassat hoomins aren't doing such a Great Job of Taking Care obba Earth!

Which is Perfecktly Troo, when you come to fink obba Fakt that so menny Perfecktly Nice Bunnies are sitting in Shelters, waiting for Forebber Homes, and so menny wild Cottontail Bunnies are losing their homes to greedy hoomin developers and builders and gen'rilly mean people who fink alla Opin Land is just "theirs" because they are hoomin. Let's face it - Hoomins even have a hard time Getting Along with Udder Hoomins, let along Getting Along with Udder Species!

And Wunna the Third Points that the Rev'rind Doctor Ginny Sheay made in her "homily" wassat, as Stewards, wunna these days, hoomins were going to have to account for their stewardship to the Owner Obba Planet.

And it's not gonna be preddy!

And she also pointed out inna "homily" that the Anglican Faith has been talking about Stewardship for a Very Long Time - and that nobunny has been listening!

Yeah!

So, wike, Why is nobunny listening? The Anglican Faith has been around for Five Hunnert Years saying "We are Stewards, not Owners of the Planet." and here is alla this Global Warming and Climate Change and Waste of Resources still going on around Us. It's like ebberybunny is using up ebberyfing inna greedy, selfish way, just like they Own It All! And they don't. We share the Earth Togedder.

So whut gives?

There are an awful lotta Writers and Finkers, like sum guy named Christopher Hitchins and sum Udders, who say that the Anglican Faith has been Wrong for the Whole Five Hunnert Years - and Hoomins are not "Stewards" of ennyfing, because Anglicans believe God owns the Planet and these Writers and Finkers believe There Is No God. And these Writers and Finkers write buks and articles that are Preddy Dismissive ob Udder's Beliefs and Reasoning, and try to Prove Through Logic that Science has Alla Answers to Ebberyfing.

Well, I might be a HouzRabbit, but I also can Fink, and probably as good as these Writers and Finkers. And as I am finking, Science has Answers to Sum Fings, and Anglicans have Answers to Udder Fings.

BOTH fings are Necessary and they Are Not Mutually Hextkloosive. This is onna'count obba Fakt that they Hextplain Dif'frunt Fings. Ennybunny who has read Stuff written during whut Maman calls "The Age of Enlightenment" when Science divided frum Magic will unnerstand this: Religion seeks to 'stablish hoomins' relationship toda Universe; Science issa roadmap to unnerstanding how the Universe Werks.

Two Dif'frunt Fings.

Nobunny got over the sense of Wonder, but ebberybunny preddy much got over the idea of esoteric mysteries. Placing faith in hoomin knowlege of empty "ritual" got replaced by finding nature inna living werld, but belief in the Creator who brought it all into being was never in question.

So far as I can see, No matter where the sphere of Infinity is located there is allus  Greater Still beyond it - unless, of course, the individual is the highest expression of existence (in which case, that individual issa the Wun Who Is Responsible for Ebberyfing and bedda do sumfing to fix existence because sum Stuff is going seriously wrong with Their Planet! 

Science and Belief in God don't Hextklood Each Udder; they Compliment and Enrich Each Udder - because they BOTH can lead to discovering the same fing: this Universe was not Made By Hoomins. It has Rules and Laws that can be discovered by Science, but atta End of Science, there is God. Because, if not God, then who? And if not God, then What? Science is predicated by Logic, and Logic is predicated by Intellect, and Intellect is predicated by Sentient Life - therefore God. .

And it is Troo that Science can show hoomins that there might be Global Warming going on, and mebbe provide details aboudda Glaciers Melting and show ways to Manage Resources Bedda. And it is also Troo that Science can tell how alla Messed Up Wedder Patterns due to Climate Change are making Our Maman sicker and sicker with alla changing BarryMetrick Pressures Flying and Diving across Noo Joisey alla time. And Science can prove that hoomins *rilly* need to do a lot more to Recycle Stuff and cut down on alla Rubbish ebberywheres and how to grow Salad wiffout a lotta chemicals, and Not Test Products on Animals ennymore, but to use technology instead.

But atta SAME TIME, Religion, specifically Christianity, beminds ebberybunny to be a Good Steward, and to Respect This Planet.

Science can show us HOW to be Good Stewards, but the Rev'rind Doctor Ginny Sheay told WHY it is Necessary to be Good Stewards!

Onna'count obba Fakt it is Whut We Do.

And that alla these writers ob NoosPaper articles, like Mr Hitchins and alla the wuns like him, who are so dismissive of people like Maman and the Rev'rind Doctor Ginny Sheay, cannot belive in being Good Stewards obba Planet. Instead, they seem to believe that they are sumhow Owners, and In Charge of Whut Is Going On.

And sumhow, I don't fink that the hoomins like Mr Hitchins and alla the hoomins like him are Important enuf to be in control obba Glaciers, or obba Artic, or obba Wedder Frunts that move across Noo Joisey, or in charge ob Ennyfing - and if they ARE "in charge" then they must be *rilly* messed up, or else have let Udder Hoomins mess up around them!

Because if there is no God, no Architect of the Universe, as the the atheists assume, then the Responsibility for How Things Are and How Stuff Happins rests all on hoomins, all on their Ownliest! And hoomins had bedda Fix Ebberfing with Science onna'count obba Fakt that they claim Science to be their Ownliest Hope!

Which, with the current State of Science, (since it can only demonstrate, not fix and not create), looks to be Preddy Grim.

But according to Whut Hunny Told me inna Lore, the Rev'rind Doctor Ginny Sheay said in her "homily" that "We are Stewards, not Owners of the Planet.", that seems to be more Hopeful.

It means that we have a chance do bedda. We must do bedda. We habba obligation to do bedda in Conservation and Eddykayshun and in being Alla Us Togedder in God's Great Warren. We have a reason to be Hopeful...

Because we are not OnAlone. We are part of a Warren - Alla Us Togedder. We are all dif'frunt, and being dif'frunt means that ebberybun hassa Unique Place withInna Warren.

Yeah!

We are notta End, but Part Ob. Togedder we are Stewards who share in having been Created. We are not just sorta "out there" flapping alone onna tag ends of nothingness, or "trapped here" with the entire weight of Infinity pressing down upon our heads. There are Measures we can all take, Steps we can follow, Things each of us can do to Make Fings Bedda.

But I still don't get it: Why don't these Noospaper writers and finkers seem to Get It?

It seems preddy Simple to me...

We are Stewards, Not Owners of the Planet - Our Warren, alla Our Friends and Relayshuns, Dawgs, Kitties, Udder Species inklooding Hoomins - in God's Great Warren. - Alla Us Togedder, Nobunny OnAlone!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:01 PM EST

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Well, *this* sucks, lemme tell you.

My Blog entry is late, Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren are in a Bad Mood, Maman is on her way to habba Lie-Down wiffa bad headache and It Serves Her Right onna'count obba Fakt that she made us Share A miniWheat!

Talk about Indiggities!

Ennyways...

This morning, Sistah Beffy arrived just as Mman was onna telephone, talking with Our Auntie Grace. You bemember Auntie Grace. She issa mawmie obba Herd In Kin-Tuck-Eee, who usta live in Bis-Con-Sin. Auntie Grace answers the door wearing cammo-flage, and wearing bunny-slippers; she rescued Jazzie, PearlyMae and Our Rainbow Ms CloverBun - who she then sent to live with Our Warren because Clover (beloved of Our Rainbow Beebe-Bunny!!) wassa gray bunny and Auntie Grace wanted to bemind Our Phil *Forebber* that "Army Beat Navy in 2001".

And Phil told Auntie Grace that as soon as Clover mooved innu Our Warren, she "saw the light", gave up on Army and became a Troo Navy Supporter -

"Because you'll notice that Navy has gone on to beat Army ever since!" he says, and then adds, "Ooh-Rah Bunnies! Go Navy!"

Whutebber! I will let you in onna Liddle Sekret: Our Rainbow Ms Clover, just like the rest of Alla Us Togedder, don't rilly care that much about *Games*. Our Playtime usually revolves around Running, Binkying and Looking At Stuff. Catching and Fetching Balls is Stuff we leave to Dawgs.

Ennyways...

Sistah Beffy brought Babby Anya with her early This Morning so Maman had to hang up the Phone Frum Talking with Auntie Grace, who was busy Instructing Drills ennyways.

Now Babby Anya is gedding Inner-resting. She seems to be a Very Small Hoomin. She can Walk on her ownest, but she cannot Talk using Inkwish werds. She usses sum Udder Kind of noises that Sistah Beffy and Maman fink they Unnerstand.

Frum Whut I Can See, she holds out her hands and goes "Ahhhhh". 

Maman spends a lotta time Herding Anya sorta the same way that Da Dawg Herds Cat (since Cokie-da-Fat-Cat won't Herd, there is only Beep-da-Udder-Cat inna Dawg's Herd).

So this Morning, Anya toddles innu the BunRoom first, followed very Closely by Maman. If Baby Anya hadda tail, Maman would be onnit, lemme tell you!

So ennyways, as they are passing the Treat Cupboard, Maman says to Babby Anya, "Would Anya like a miniWheat?"

Now a miniWheat, as everybunny knows, is wunna those Small, Square Dry Cereal Treats that Maman sumtimes shares around with Alla Us Togedder. She will hold it in her Fingers and let each Wun Ob Us habba Turn taking Bites outta it, but no bun can get a Whole miniWheat, onna'count obba Fakt that Maman says they are Not Good For Bunnies because of "Too Much Sugar" (whutebber *that* means!).

But miniWheats are GOOD, lemme tell you!

And Sistah Beffy says to Maman, "How-come you never have any *good-for-you* cereal when we come over, like Cheerios or something?"

And Maman says, "MiniWheats *are* good."

"For Old People." says Sistah Beffy.

So Maman says to Babby Anya, "Does Anya wanna miniWheat?"

And Babby Anya goes, "Ahhhhhh!" and holds out her hand.

So Maman says, "Of course you do!" like Anya said, "Yes. and gives her a miniWheat and says, "Thank you, Granny." for no apparent reason.

Then Maman looks at Sistah Beffy and says, "The baby likes Old People cereal." Like Anya isn't in the room, and then she smiles down on Babby Anya and says, "You're not a Picky-puss are you, Sweetie?"

And Babby Anya goes, "Ahhhh.", which Maman takes assa 'Firmative Reply and says to Sistah Beffy, "See? I love miniWheats, Granny!" Which nobunny heard  Babby Anya say at all, and only proves that Maman is Nutz.

So, meanwhile, Babby Anya cruises on innu the BunRoom clutching the miniWheat in her liddle hand. And she stops at the Furst Habbytat she encounters, looks down at Foxie inside and goes "Ahhhhh!"

So Maman turns her 'tenshun frum Sistah Beffy, smiles down on Babby Anya and says, "That's right - it's Foxie!"

And Missy looks over at me in Our Habbytat and axts, "Since when does 'Ahhh' sound like 'Fox-eee'?"

And I reply, "Beats me."

And Anya goes "Ahhhh!" again, and latches on to the sides of Foxie's habbytat.

So Maman says, "That's right again, Anya! That's Liddle Foxie-bunny, coming to say 'Hello" to Anya! Whutta Nice BunnyRabbit." And puts Maman her hands out around Anya's hands and takes them offa Foxie's Habbytat.

And Missy looks back at me, raises an eyebrow, and says, "'Scuse me, but I'm a nice BunnyRabbit, too!"

And I said, "My Ownliest Bunny-Gurl Ob Gen'rus P'porshuns!." and kept on chewing hay: there are sum fings that are just Troo.

Now, Foxie issa preddy good bunny for not having been in Our Warren all that long. Since she is living inna HouzRabbit-Friendly Place, she has learned a lot, like how not to be Habbytat Protective and not to be Afraid Of Hands like she usta be, so she goes over to see Whut Anya Wants. And she puts up her Teeny Teacup-Inkwish-Spot Nose and sniffles Anya's the scent frum her Liddle Fingers.

And as soon as Foxie's liddle nose touches her liddle fingers, Babby Anya steps back and goes "Ahhhh!" and starts to clap her hands togedder.

And Maman grabs Anya's hands and says to her, "Shhhh, Quiet Anya. Gentle bunnies."

And Anya looks up at Maman and goes, "Ahhhhh?"

And Maman goes, "That's right! Quiet Anya! Happy liddle bunnies!"

And over in Our Habbytat, MissyBun raises wun ear at me and says, "Hokay, I gib up. Sumfing is goin' on here and I'm missin' it."

And I'm, like, "Beats me."

And right about then, Dusty starts banging around in his habbytat, that is about on eye-level with Anya. Like he's just figgered it out that Anya is a Short-Edition of Maman. So he's Periscoping and Tooth-Rattling his habbytat, making noise and yelling,

"Hey! You! Short-Hoomin! PET-THE-BUNYY! PET-THE-BUNNY! You know you want to! PET-THE-BUNNY!"

And Babby Anya looks at Maman and then at Dusty, points her liddle finger at him and goes, "Ahhhh!"

And Maman says, "That's right!" like Anya has guessed a Sekret. "That's Our Dusty-Bun!"

And doesn't she just take hold of Anya's Liddle Hand, opin Dusty's Habbytat Door  and say to Anya, "Very Gentle Anya."

And Anya goes, "Ahhhhhhhhh"

And Maman starts stroking Dusty's stoopit liddle head with Anya's hand!

Well, *that* preddy much does it - because Dusty pracktick'ly passes out frum Sheer Happiness, and you can preddy much see Anya's eyes getting wider and wider, and there is Maman, All Smiles.

And Maman says, "Look at Anya! Nice, gentle Dusty bunny!"

And suddinly Anya squeaks, "Ahhhhhh!", snatches back her liddle hand, and begins to bob up-and-down, all hextcited-like.

And that's When It Happins: Babby Anya drops the miniWheat that she is clutching in her Udder Hand.

Anna miniWheat falls right frum Anya's liddle hand, directick'ly through innu Foxie's Habbytat!

And Foxie shouts, "Fank You!" and dives onna miniWheat!

And over in Our Habbytat, Missy raises *both* ears and goes, "Whaaaaaaaaa!"

...Onna'count obba Fakt that Maman ushally makes Alla Us Togedder *SHARE* Wun Whole miniWheat and Babby Anya has just given Wun Whole miniWheat for Foxie to hab on her Ownliest!.

Talk aboudda Indiggity!

So Maman shouts for Dadda. And she tells him, "You have to get that miniWheat Away Frum Foxie."

And Anya goes, "Ahhhhh?"

And Foxie isn't saying ennyfing, except there are munching nosies coming frum her habbytat.

Dusty is still pracktic'ly unconscious frum habbin' been Pet-the-Bunnied, while Mr Mouse (who saw *hextactly* Whut Just Happined frum across the way in his Habbytat) is spinning in circles, grunting, he's so beside himself wif 'nnoyance at not getting enny miniWheat.

And Missy *THUMPS* and then shouts at me, "Are you just gonna sit heer and let it happin?!"

And I keep my mouth shut, because a Big Part of Top-Bunning is not being  Stoopit.

And Dadda looks at Maman and axts, "Are you outta your mind?"

And Maman says, "No. Foxie can't have a whole miniWheat. It's not fair. NoBunny *ever* gets Whun Whole miniWheat."

So Sistah Beffy (who knows Trubble when she sees it) comes in and scoops up Baby Anya.

And Dadda says to Maman, "You're going to have a Very Angry Bunny if I have to reach in that habbytat and take that miniWheat away frum Princess." (Dadda allus calls Foxie his "Princess" now.)

And Maman gets this "Look" on her face.

Now I unnerstand this "Look" onna'count obba Fakt that it's a lot like the kind of "Look" Belinda Bunny usta get just before she put her Paw Down - on sumbun's head.

And Maman says to Dadda, "Well, either you get the miniWheat out of there or we end up having to make a 'Mergency Call to Doctor Sharin when Foxie goes innu Stasis, later. There's entirely too much Sugar there for a Teacup Inkwish Spot!"

So Dadda opins up Foxie's Habbytat and snatches away the miniWheat she's werking on.

Foxie yells, "Hey!" and tries to hold on to the miniWheat, but of course it falls apart in her mouth, and Dadda gets it and gives it to Maman.

And then Alla Us Togedder get to share Wun miniWheat that has Foxie-spit all over it: wun bunny, wun miniWheat, wun bite - Each.

And *then* doesn't Maman just go and give Whut's Left Over obba miniWheat to Da Dawg!

We're talking Big-Time Indiggiety here.

So now Mr Mouse is giving Everybun the RBB, and Dusty is having a nap, trying to recover frum being Pet-the-Bunnied; Foxie is inna Full-Blown Full-Sized-Inkwish-Spot Sulk and won't talk to ennybunny, and Missy says she is Offishully Outraged.

And my The Hay Diaries Blog entry is Way Beyond "Late"!

A Great Start to Our Satturdee Morning, don'tcha fink?

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

Posted by Our Warren at 2:17 PM EST

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Now when I Furst arrived in Our Warren, I wassa Skert Little Babby Bunny about three months old. I wassa Easter Dump - wunna those poor little bunnies that is bought assa cuddly toy for Easter and then got rid of when I "became a bother" when Easter was over.

I dunno how menny times I gotta keep saying it but I'm saying it again, EASTER IS NO FUN FOR A REAL BUN! MAKE MINE CHOCOLATE! (Go HERE for more information about How You Can Help Save Bunnies' Lives at Easter!) And if you have carefully considered it, and want to share your Life with a Companion Rabbit, then GIVE A BUNNY A SECOND CHANCE - ADOPT! (And please visit the HouseRabbit Society  website before you do!).

But I was Wunna the Lucky Wuns: I was left OnAlone inna cardboard box atta V-E-Ts office where Maman rescued me, but I was too young to have left my Mawmie when I was sold assa cuddly toy inna Furst Place. So When I arrived in Our Warren and found a bunch of bunnies living here, I spent a lotta time Looking For My Mawmie.

And of course, I was disappointed. There was no mawmie heer for me. (You can read about my Search for My Mawmie in the July/August 2004 entries of The Hay Diaries.) Still, I made a lotta Friends, because I joined a Warren. And onna'countobba Fakt that I was living assa Urban Rabbit inna Warren, I found my Perfect BondMate in MissyBun, my Beautiful Bun-wife of Gen'rus Pro'porshuns!

Yeah!

Ennyways...

When I arrived at Our Warren, the Hoomins Who Lived Heer were Maman, Dadda and Our Phil.

And Maman is the mawmie of Our Phil. And ennybun who knows them can tell that they are Mawmie and Kit, or Mudder and Son (In Inkwish) mostly by looking at them. Even better, listening to them. It was so Then, When I Arrived, and even Now...

Like Yestidday AftaNoon, just as we were finishing up NapTime and getting ourselves ready for Evening.

The Houz had been *rilly* quiet. Dadda was inna Bedroom. He said he was "Reading", but we all know Whut Happins when he takes a Buk innu the Bedroom inna AftaNoon afta he's been werking: soon he Acquires A Cat, and then preddy soon afta that, there's Polyphonic Snoring.

And Maman was inna Sitting Room, and she was also s'sposed to be "Reading" but then she also had Acquired A Cat, (since there are Two Catz, there was One Cat to Infect Each Hoomin) and as Foxie said, the sounds ob page turning stopped inna Sitting Room and all We could hear was more obba Polyphonic Snoring and sum really boring music "Your Local Radar" Wedder Channel plays when it shows its maps onna television.

Now I am Possytive these outbreaks of Polyphonic Snoring have to do with the Acquiz-ay-shun ob Cats. It's like catching a cold, or getting Infected by Germs or sumfing.

Ennyways...

And Outside, Guess Whut? It was gently SNOWing!

Yeah!

The night Bifore, alla Wedder Channel "Your Local Radar" fings onna Television had been saying "It's gonna rain" when they showed alla Maps of Us, but there it was - SNOW - falling down past Our Warren's Memorial Window - big, floaty, Flakes Of White, looking just like feathers, filling up alla crooks inna tree branches, and covering uppa Rooster WedderVane onna Garage of Don-NextestDoor!

And Missy and I were in Our Habbytat, and Alla Us Togedder were chewing hay and wondering when Maman was going to come in and Turn Onna BunLight because it was beginning to Look A Lot Like Dusk.

Ennyways...

The telephone rang. And it sounded *rilly* LOUD onna'count obba Fakt that the Whole Houz was so Quiet, except for the Polyphonic Snoring caused by Cats.

So we heard the sound obba Buks falling onna floor inna Sitting Room, and the sound of a Cat tumbling over, and Maman stumbled frumma Sitting Room, innu the Bedroom and out innu the Kitchin wiffa Telephone.

And she pushed alla buttons onna Phone and suddinly, we heard Phil's voice like he was right inna room with Alla Us Togedder.

And Maman said toda Telephone, "So whut's up wif you?"

And we heard Phil's voice say: "I was wondering if you might have some spare change lying around."

And Maman got this anxiety-stricken look on her face and axted inna hurry, "Whutsamatta?"

And we heard Phil again: "Oh, nothing. I was driving around and I was wondering..."

And Maman sorta deflated a litted and innerupted him: "Are you outta your mind? It's SNOWing out there, Stoopit!"

And we heard a pause, and we could sorta imagine Phil, finking over his state-of-mind bifore he answered her. Then he said cautiously, "Yeah, I know. But it's not bad out."

But he should have known bedda, because even we knew Whut She Was Gonna Say nextest:

"It's not you I'm werried about; it's the Udder Idiots. I taught you How To Drive Inna SNOW, but I didn't teach them. Go Home NOW, bifore wunna them runs innu you!"

And that's hextactly whut she said.

And there was anudder slight pause frum Phil. And then he said, "Honest Mom, it's not bad out. Just a little slippery."

And while she talking onna phone, Maman had come out through the Kitchin and innu the BunRoom and turned onna BunLight. So she told Phil,  "There. No more Bunnies Inna Dark."

And Phil went, "That's good. So actually, since I was out, I was wondering..."

And Maman stopped with her hand onna Big White Salad Bank and said, "Well, stop wondering and Go Home. It's SNOWing out."

And Phil said, "Yeah. I noticed." And you could almost see him, struggling to get his hands back onna steering-wheel obba conversation. "But I was on my way frum running errands and I thought since I was going past your place ennyways..."

But Maman doesn't "steer"; it's more like her mind runs on tracks. So she said. "That's good thinking, dear. You just keep on passing until you Get Home bifore ennyfing happins to you. Get Offa Road bifore some Udder Idiot runs innu you!"

And we could hear Phil as he made anudder attempt to switch tracks - but bringing Maman around to run on your tracks when she's alreaddy fixed on sum udder tracks is like trying to stop the Titanic: you need an iceberg, or a guided missil or sumfing.

"So, um," And Alla Us Tgedder heard Phil launch his iceberg. "I was just going Past your place and since I have nothing to do tonight except hit the "enter" key on my computer while I reinstall some software, I thought I'd stop and ask if you and Brian had any Loose Change that you might like to loan..."

But Maman was firmly fixed on her course. "Well you can train a monkey to hit the "enter' key for you. Good grief, you're a Computer Hardware Engineer! Can't you teach your flat-mate to do that for you? Besides, the sooner you Get Home, the sooner you'll have the stuff installed. Why are you out in the SNOW, ennyway? I'm trying to make dinner. Since you're passing, why not stop..."

And even Alla Us Togedder knew that Phil would rather eat ground-up glass at that point than eat whutebber she was making for dinner, So Phil innerupted her with. "Thanks but I alreaddy ate, Mom."

And then he hadda'nudder go at trying to swing her around to his point "The thing is that tonight is gonna be really boring, being stuck inside with nothing to do and we thought if we had a six-pack, we could pay you back tomorrow..."

And even though he was hitting the werds pretty hard, they bounced right offa Maman. And she innerupted him again:

"Well, it's nice not having ennyfing to do for once. Whut you need to do is to Go Home," She said, eluding him again and returning to her own, peculiar orbit.

"Get outta the wedder, decompress and have a nice evening in for once. Just watch the SNOW and stay away frum alla Idiots who don't know How to Drive Innit. You know how it is around here, Phil: sumbun yells "SNOW" and suddinly every Moron Wiffa Driver's License hasta jump inna car to take a spin onna Lucky Insurance Wheel. You know this is The Gambling State! Ebbery Flake inna State hassa ticket for Lotto On Ice!"

And there was anudder pause, and we just knew he was considering Gibbin Up. Not because he'd been beat, but because wherebber he was, it was Past the Point ob No Return - too far frumma Houz to make a detour and no Point in trying to pry the conversation outta this particular groove in her mental pavement

So we heard him go for the Last Ditch Effort: "Well, since I don't play the lottery..."

"And belive me, I've always been thankful that you have good sense..."

"Um, yeah...I try, but, you know, tomorrow is pay-day and we could pay you back..."

And Missy nudged me inna ribs and said suddinly, "Wun Baby Organic Carrot says she won't take the bait. She's stuck on 'Going Home' and that's it."

And I said. "No bet." Because I am not Stoopit. "But you godda admit, he's gave it a good run."

And Missy nodded, because we've seen so menny of these contests bifore.

And then Phil launched his final assult: "You know," he said. "It's not hard to have a Constantly Boring Existence when you face a night of Total Bordom that could be easily eliminated by borrowing a little loose change..."

And it was like the Proverbial Penny dropped at last, but not innu Phil's lap, so to speak.

"Did I mention that Brian didn't stop by the bank today?" Maman said. "I told him that I thought it was going to SNOW so he came straight home before the Circus hit the Streets. Besides we're going to the market tomorrow when the roads will be Clear. You're welcome to go with us..."

And Mr Mouse bounced in his habbytat and yelled, "Terminal Velocity!"

And Dusty popped up frum his haypile and axted him, "Wheredaheck is 'Terminal Velos-City?'"

And Mouse said, "It's not a city, it's the speed of sumfing falling as fast as it can and can't go enny faster onna'count obba Fakt ob 'drag'." he hextplained. "Which in this case issa place where Maman and Phil are inna conversation. Maman is stuck on Go Home and Phil is stuck on Loose Change and there's no way they're gonna meet. Ebber. So the conversation has reached 'Terminal Velocity' and isn't going enny further."

"And Our Phil knows alla'bout 'Terminal Velocity' onna'count obba Fakt that he went to 'Jump School' inna Navy and lerned how to Abandon Perfektly Good Airplanes wearing parachutes." I added. Because this is Troo: I heard Phil telling Sheeba's Dadda, Our Unkul Peter, that The Navy hadda teach him this skill in case he happined to get innu an Airplane fulla ChairForce (whutebber *that* is!).

Ennyways... 

So there was anudder pause, and then Phil said, "Thanks, Mom..."

And Maman said, "Drive carefully, dear. There are a lotta morons out there. Love you."

And Phil said, "I know, Mom. Love you, too."

And you could just hear it - the conversation was Ober. Mouse was right about Phil recognising "Terminal Velocity" when he'd reached it, s'specially when talking with Maman. It was like being in free-fall with a rock, and there was no place to go, 'cept "down".

And then Dadda came outta the Bedroom and said to Maman, "Who was that onna phone?"

And Maman said, "Phil."

And Dadda axted her, "Whut did he want?"

And Maman said, "He was running errands and I told him to go home because it was SNOWing out."

And Dadda said, "Oh." 

And bent down to habba look-in on Mr Mouse. Dadda said berry softly to Mouse, "You'd think if Phil was inna car, he'd have noticed the SONW alreddy, so..." 

And we could see Dadda weighing up his options about pursuing this line of thought. But Dadda had gotten preddy smart ober the years he's been in Our Warren, s'specially aboudda werkings between Maman and Phil, and like Phil, he can sense 'Terminal Velocity'  approaching when a conversation wif her might be getting up to speed.

And Missy said quickly, "Two Ear-grooms or a Baby Organic Carrot he changes the subjekt!"

And I was like, "Since when did you get the bookmaking franchise around heer?"

And Dusty yelled, "Carrots? Who's getting carrots? Is it Treat-Time? I 'll have wun! Over heer! PET-THE-BUNNY! Drop a carrot!". And he began bouncing around his habitat like a loose ping-pong ball.

And so I let my ears droop and axted Mouse who had set off the Idiot Alarm *this time* and he grunted, and Dadda thought Mouse meant to him and said,

"Oh stop it, Shagbag."

Which effectively derailed Maman's train of thought.

Because she came steaming through innu the BunRoom, opened Mr Mouse's habbytat and said to Dadda,

"You know, you shouldn't call him names like that. I'm sure you're hurting his feelings. Poor little Mouse-kus! Here you are, an Apprentice ADA to Jack McCoy and some Great Big B-S-M-E is calling you 'Shagbag' - it's an indiggity!".

And Missy chortled, "You owe me, Handsum!" and did a little Victory Butt-Wiggle.

You know, I am such a sucker...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 1:24 PM EST

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PET-THE-BUNNY!!PET-THE-BUNNY!!PET-THE-BUNNY!!PET-THE-BUNNY!!

PET-THE-BUNNY!!PET-THE-BUNNY!!PET-TH...

DUST-TEEEE!!

    Will you get OUTTA Here!!!

Good grief.

You know, Stuff just keeps on happinin' around here.

It's like lastest night.

Maman and Dadda were sitting inna Sitting Room, watching the Television onna'count obba Fakt that Maman has found a Noo Show to watch that is not Law & Order. However, like Law & Order that she found for Mr Mouse, she also found this show by ak-see-dent.

It is called NCIS.

I don't know whut it is about, 'cept that it has to do with The Navy, which is sumfing that Maman (and Phil) likes. You'll bemember that Phil was axtchually Inna Navy and now he issa Vedderan, and still rolls his tee-shirts (even his HareWEAR ones!) innu rolls to keep in his laundry. Maman says, "You can take the boy outta The Navy but you can't take The Navy outta the boy."

This is prob'ly Troo. Maman's Dadda, who is Our Bim who is atta Rainbow Bridge, was also Inna Navy a Berry Long Time Ago. A little ways away frum here is a sort ob Bim Memorial Gardin Place, and there issa fing there that tells about him being Inna Navy. He was also a Nashunal Guard Meddykal Offysir, but that wasn't as big a deal to him as being Inna Navy, I guess mebbe because Inna Navy, he Had 'Venchurs, like Our Phil, that are all part of Maman's Lore that she tells to us, that I bemember as part of Our Lore that was tauht to me by meHunny, *Senior Bun* of Our Warren. This is all Important.

So Ennyways...

Maman found this NCIS show while she and Mr Mouse were watching Law & Order. Mouse said that she sat down onna Channel Changer Fing or he else he trod onnit by Axy-dint, but ennyhow, the Channels got switched and Mouse said that suddinly there was This Big Grey Thing Wif Airplanes Onnit onna Television and Maman got all hextcited and said to Mouse,

"That's an aircraft carrier!"

Like that meant sumFing to Us.

And then she wouldn't switch back to Law & Order until Mouse nipped her.

So now, Mouse still sees Law & Order, only now Maman turns on the television to see that Big Grey Floaty Fing that issa Aircraft Carrier, and Dadda, (who Maman says issa "Child Obba Reggymint" whutebber that means!) is showing distinct Navy Tend-dancys by watching it with her. And Mouse says the Name of That Show is NCIS. 

So ennyways...

Maman and Dadda were inna Sitting Room watching this Noo Show called NCIS and it was looking like Late and we were Alla Us Togedder Downnastairs in the BunRoom, hanging around, waiting for Salad Time. And of course both Catz were also Downnastairs, waiting for Dadda to Feed Them, so Cokie was Grumpy and Beep was Pretending to be Part Obba Herd.

And *this* meant that Cokie-the-Fat-Cat was stretched out across the Dining Room floor like a furry Speed Hump anna Dawg was all kinds of Out-Of-Out-Of-His-Mind, racing back-and-forth, Herding Catz - well, Wun Cat (which is the size of His Herd). And Beep was preddy much going like mad, visiting ebbery room she could get innu.

Now Da Dawg has a few "Standing Orders" still left inside of his head. Wunna the Furst Roolz Maman ebber made about This Houz when we Furst Mooved In Heer  was "NO CATZ INNA BUN ROOM". She says she made it onna'count obba Fakt  that she was afraid that Cokie, who came with Alla Us Togedder frumma Old Houz might get Skert and Ak-see-dent-ally dash outta the Back Door and Get Lost, or that Beep, who had nebber seen Bunnies before might get Too Curious and Bodder Us. And ennyways, because Marc-the-Border-Collie rilly needed a Job at that time in order to feel Part Obba Pack and Inklooded, so she made Guarding the Bun Room his Primary Job.

Well, once you put a Job innu a Border-Collie brain, it nebber comes out, and as Maman says, "The road to hell is paved with Good Intent-shuns.". 

So Beep was wanderin' frum Room-to-Room, wiffa Dawg going right along behind her and giving Orders, which is Whut Herding Dawgs Do.

So they're coming through the Kitchin, with Beep inna lead anna Dawg following on behind. And Beep makes a turn toward the Bun Room. And Da Dawg is right on her tail - and I mean, lit'rally, "right on her tail" - and suddinly he yips, "NO CATZ INNA BUN ROOM!" like he's s'suposed to, and right inna doorway, Beep turns around - like she's s'suposed to.

And Da Dawg, being "right on her tail" tries to make the same, tight turn, only he's a *lot* bigger, like wunna those Big Grey Floaty Fings Maman calls Aircraft Carriers Inna Navy. Like wunna them, he needs a whole lot more room than a doorway in which to turn himself around in - and so he misjudges the distance ob his turning radius, whirls around and *SMACKS* his head onna doorframe - *THUNK!*

And frumma Sitting Room, we hear Maman go: "Whut wassat?" to Dadda. And then she adds, "Wassat the Dawg's head?"

And we hear Dadda reply, "Probably."

And then we hear Maman say, "Well, shouldn't you go see if he's hurt?"

And meanwhile, Beep is cruising through the Kitchin again, on innu the Dining Room, where Da Dawg, who hasn't missed a beat for all he's smacked his head innu the door-frame, and is still hextactly keeping station "right on her tail," manages to step on the part of Cokie-the-Fat-Cat where his "private parts" would be if he still had enny (which he doesn't because he was "fixed" a long time ago).

So Cokie flips onnu his feets (he's got a sus'prising turn-ob-speed when he wants to, for all he's huge, old and outta-condishun), curses and lands on Beep, and  Beep hisses and suddinly Da Dawg on on it, yellng, "That's IT! HERD UPPYSTAIRS!" And there's this thundering, mad, bounding scramble through the Living Room and Uppystairs.

And afta the noise goes away, anna Dawg has ambled back Downnastairs like he's just done sumfing 'mazing and collapsed inna heap inna Sitting Room doorway like a Good Dawg Home Frumma Good Day's Werk, we hear Dadda say to Maman:

"You know, dear, I don't bother to examine the Dawg anymore. He's a collie; head like concrete, thick as the proverbial brick. I just go out now and again, and check the woodwork for signs of damage..."

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:18 AM EST

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So Yestidday was "Fun Wif Pickchurs" day heer at The Hay Diaries. And Maman told me that if I take up more than five of her hours onna 'puter fiddling wif her Pickchur Files again, she and I are gonna Hab Werds and possibly a Falling Out.

You don't wanna Hab Werds with Maman. Trust me on that. Her "Werds" tend to go on - and on - and on, because she just can't Leeb Stuff Alone. Dadda says that Maman issa Hextpert Historian - she nebber forgets Ennyfing and hassa Possytib Genius for Diggin' Uppa Ebberybunny's Past behaviour. In this she issa lot like MissyBun, who Nebber Fortygets EnnyFing, and who was taught to do that so she could grow up to be a Junior Version of Belinda Bunny.

Which she's done, lemme tell you! 

So Yestidday, afta I'd finished typing out The Hay Diaries and was back Downnastairs in Our Habbytat, sorting through the hay that was left afta Missy had gone through it two or three times alreddy, and Maman was sitting inna Sitting Room reading wunna the Buks she has onna go. And Dadda was Uppystairs trying to do some werk onna 'puter.

Now, Dadda had Cokie-the-Fat-Cat anna Dawg wif him.

And Alla Us Togedder were settling down for AftaNoon Naptime heer inna BunRoom after just having had our Baby Organic Carrot treat.

And Beep-the-Udder-Cat had gone to settle down with Maman inna Sitting Room.

And Phil had alreddy come and returned to his his 'Partmint with a box of 'puter parts to rebuild some person's 'puter for them, which is Whut He Does.

Just so you can see that the Forces of Bother were Eekwelly Distributed.

And we hear sum frustration building frum Uppystairs. Dadda is stomping around his desks and saying occasional stuff like, "I can't..... you Buggers....under my feet...alreddy were out! Cokie, stop that! ....Marc, why don't you go find you Cat?!".

And we can hear Maman fussing at Beep:

"No, get off the book" Pause. "Don't tunnel under that blankie." Pause. "Look, you stoopit cat, I didn't invite you up here to bother me!" Pause. "You're lyiing on my glasses! Give 'em back!" Pause. "For goodness' sake, Gidget!" ("Gidget" is Beep's real name, but nobunny uses it unless they are 'nnoyed.) "Go pester your Dawg!"

You notice that BOTH hoomins play into this, probably with out realising Whut They Are Doing. This is because they don't unnderstand the Relayshunships and Manipulations that are going on around heer, in this Houz,

Da Dawg and Beep have an unushual relayshunship - Da Dawg is unner the impression that, when he has nothing else to do, his Primary Function is to Herd Cats. I don't know how he got the idea. It's like lightning struck him, *bam!* and it fused some crossed wires in his brain so that now he finks when he's not Putting Out The Rubbish, Guarding Maman, Protecting the BunRoom, Patolling the Yard or Watching The House, he's in charge of Herding Catz.

Which is preddy stoopit, because ebberybunny knows that Cats Are Not Herd Annymuls. But Da Dawg issa Border-Collie, which issa Herding Dawg and so he issa Herding Dawg In Search Obba Herd.

Well, Maman won't let him Herd Us Bunnies, so all he's left with are Catz, and although Catz wouldn't be his primary choice of herd, he's pretty choice-less. All he gots is Catz and so he's happy enough to take Whut He Gets. Maman once said sumfin 'bout goats, but I dunno whut that's alla'bout because there aren't enny around heer that I've seen. But very little bothers Da Dawg, so he finks he's Happy Herding Catz.

Ennyways, Cokie doesn't play this Game. So far as he sees, Da Dawg is just anudder Solitary Male in Cokie's Chowder, and Cokie issa Dominant Male. And Wunna the Cardinal Roolz Obba Chowder issat the Dominant Male can eat outta enny Kibble Dish he happins to come across. And the Sekond Rool inna Chowder makes Beep a Tributary Female who has no Rights at all.

Which doesn't go over well with Beep.

Now Beep won't eat Dawg Kibble, but she has no problems being part obba Dawg's Herd, and because she is part obba Dawg's Herd, Da Dawg hasta let her look in his Kibble Bowl - that issa Herd Rool.

Cokie, however, isn't part ob the Dawg's Herd, because Cokie himself has rejected Herd Status and, so far assa Dawg can see, Cokie wants to be Part Obba Pack. But According to Pack Roolz, Da Dawg has figgered that he ranks higher than any Cat, therefore Cokie has No Rights to look inna Dawg's Kibble Bowl unless Da Dawg says it's "Hokay" - which it nebber is, unless Cokie will become Part Obba Herd.

Which Cokie won't.

And being a Cat, and not a Truly Stoopit as Maman finks, Beep has figgered out how to make use of her Being Inna Herd against Cokie whenebber she wants. When she wants a turn atta Kibble Bowl, she walks right up and shoulders Cokie aside. If he growls at her, she calls the Dawg:

"Help! Help! I'm being attacked!"

Well, Da Dawg is a Border-Collie, hard-wired over centuries to Protect HIS Herd. So he dashes right in and shoulders Cokie-Cat outta the way, and yipps.

"Don't 'Tack My Cat!"

And Cokie stands there wif his face fulla outrage, like, "Whuttaheck Dawg? She's in MY Kibble Bowl!"

And Da Dawg is hard-wired, because he's a Border-Collie, so he's got no Reasons for body-slamming Cokie away frumma Kibble Bowl, other than it's just that his Herd, Beep, called him in Great Distress because it/she was threatened. Because Beep's his Herd and she said she was being 'Tacked. He was only doin' His Job!

Of course, on the other paw, being Inna Dawg's Herd has disadvantages, too, like having a Dawg Nose up your backside wherever you happin to go, and allus having to do whutever he decides is Best For His Herd. If Da Dawg decides The Best Thing is for Beep to go Uppystairs, she hasta go, even if she doesn't rilly want to. But if Beep can convince Da Dawg that she's being threatened, well, then Da Dawg Leaps Innu Akshun and goes innu battle for her against Cokie, or the Feral Cats outside, or just about ennyfing else. She squeeks, and he barges in without finking.

As Phil says, being part obba Dawg's Herd is a lot like being the only Sailor assigned to a Pack ob Marines. There issa *Up* side to ebberyfing if you just look for it long enough.

So 'bout'a'minit afta Maman told Beep to Go Pester Her Dawg, Beeps gets down offa Maman's soft reading nest inna Sitting Room and goes to stand inna Dining Room and squeeks. And *just-like-that* there wassa sound obba whole lotta scrambling frum Uppystairs, and heer comes Da Dawg, followed by Dadda all thundering Downnastairs at once, and on through the Kitchin and out the Back Door.

Then Dadda goes back innu the Kitchin and turns on his kettle.

And there's this Liddle Squeek and Beep strolls innu the Kitchin. And Dadda axts her, "Whut's up with you, Madam?"

And then Maman calls in frumma Sitting Room, "You let out her Dawg."

And sure enough, Beep sits down in frunt of Dadda and starts to complain to him.

So then there's a more deliberate *fump* *fump* *fump* coming Downnastairs and that's Cokie, who is too fat to take part inna Dawg's Rapid Scramble. And then *pad* *pad* *pad* and Cokie fetches up inna archway between the Kitchin anna Dining Room and just sorta sags toda floor.

But Cokie has his eye onna Dawg's Kibble Bowl. So he heaves himself to his paws, stretches, and like he has nothing on his mind, ambles over and sags beside it. And he looks at Beep, like, "Mine."

And Beep is watching him, like, "Not for long, Sunshine."

And we Bunnies have all gotten up because having a Border-Collie crash through while you're trying to settle down inna hay, and then having Dadda opin uppa Back Door to let in a blast of Cold Air to blow up your butt *rilly* blows the wings offa the Naptime Butterfuy. So we're alreddy watching as this Trainwreck sets itself up - again - right unner the eyes obba Unsuspecting Hoomins.

And Dadda calls back to her, "I'm just doing it now, Dear."

And MissyBun stops chewing hay long enough to poke me inna ribs and say, "Hold dis stalk. Watch dis."

And Mr Mouse, who has a better view of whut's going on frum the corner ob his habbytat is alreddy bouncing up-and-down, laughing to himself. "Enny minit, now." He's chuckling. "This is gonna be good.".

So Dadda opins the Back Door and Da Dawg prances through, all kinds of happy wif himself from having performed a Successful Patrol, and he's wagging away, and his tail bangs innu us, but Missy doesn't even miss a beat, its happened so often. She's standing with her nose pressed right upagainst the side of Our Habbytat, looking towards the Kitchin.

"Wait for it..." She says.

And Da Dawg is just about toda BunRoom Door when Beep opins her mouth and squeeks, "Help! Attack! Raid Onna Kibble!"

And you can see the werds going through Da Dawg like an elecktrick shock current: his hackles rise, his tail stands straight up and puffs out like a bottle-brush. And suddenly he's got all four paws innu over-drive and he's roaring past Dadda and swooping down on Cokie-the-Fat-Cat like a hurricane!

So, of course, the Fat-Cat starts cursing, and he gets his own paws together, but both he anna Dawg are onna Linoelum, and there's no traction for Eidder Wun ob Them! And Dadda yells.

And then there's this Almighty *BANG!* as Anudder Struggling, Screaming Ball of Cat-and-Dawg slams innu Maman's Antique Welsh Dresser.

And Dadda yells, "GET UPSTAIRS!"

Which is anudder of those commands that are hard-wired innu Da Dawg's mininal brain. So outta the rolling, struggling mess comes Beep, followed by Cokie doing his best Scurry, and Da Dawg, head down, barking, nipping and yipping like a champion Herder - all Scrambling and Tripping Uppystairs Togedder.

And then there is silence.

And Maman calls in frumma Sitting Room: "Whut was that, Dear?"

And Dadda is standing by the counter inna Kitchin, just assa Dawg comes bouncing Downnastairs again, waving his tail, with his tongue hanging out, announcing "Mission Accomplished!"

And Dadda calls back to Maman, "How the hell do I know? Damn stupid Catz...stoopit Dawg..."

And Missy turns to me and she's nodding. "That was preddy good." She says, picking up some hay. "I'd give it a seven. Extry points for good manipulation ob all pawties concerned. She gott'em all - ebberyWun!"

And Alla Us Togedder held a vote and preddy much agreed with Missy that we gave Beep seven outta ten points on that one. The only way she could have scored higher was if she could have somehow involved Maman in the mess. 

And frum Uppystairs Beep called down, very softly "Whoo-hoo! Seven! A Personal Best!"

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:54 AM EST

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So this Morning Da Dawg waited until Maman woke up to go out for his Furst Morning Patrol.

Now that he's getting older and has this Arthur-Itis happinin to his hind-quarters, he doesn't allus wanna get up rilly early inna morning and tries to stay in bed with whichever hoomin stays asleep longest.

Now Alla Us Togedder had alreddy heard Dadda talking to Maman when he waked up, and then he told Da Dawg to "Guard" her - Which preddy much fit in wiffa plans Da Dawg alreddy had and gave him a reason to stay in bed.

So when Da Dawg finally came in, he said to me: "I got up too late, George."

And Maman whistled (high-pitched breathy noise she makes through her toofies; s'sposed to be 'unlady-like' so she only does it InFrunt-Ob-Family) atta Dawg and told him to "SitOnnaRug" onna'count obba Fakt he had "Muddy Paws" because it rained (not SNOWed) Yestidday, anna Back Gardin was all wet.

So Da Dawg (who lives to follow orders because that's Whut Border-Collies Do) sat down onna towel that was InFrunt of Our Habbytat. Anna Dawg said to me, "I got up too late, George. Now the whole Back Gardin smells of Cat."

So I axted him, "Which Cat?" Onna'count obba Fakt that I hadn't seen either Cokie-the-Fat-Cat or Beep-the-Udder-Cat this morning. As far as I knew, both Our Catz were still Uppystairs with Dadda and hadn't commed down yet.

"Strange cats." Said Da Dawg and he was being very serryious. "We got Strange Cats inna Back Gardin."

And Missy, who does not like Enny Cats At All looked over atta Dawg and axted him, "Hokay, so howdaheck did we come to be Infected By Strange Cats?"

Anna Dawg kinda shrugged. "Dunno." He said. "Furst last year there was Wun Cat sorta snoopin' around. Cokie saw it frumma ScreenPorch, and then Beep saw it and came to get me to tell it not to Come Innu Our Gardin. Then I put down lots of Markers at alla corners and along the Back-Obba-Fence. And I warned Penny-n-Lilly NextestDoor aboudda Strange Cat, because they are both Pup-Dawgs and not old enuf to be used to habbin' to Mark and defend their Terrytorry, so I help them out. But the cat came anyways - right innu Our Back Gardin, like it owned it! And then it came through Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Rose and Herb Gardin!. And Maman yelled at me for Marking the Roses and Herbs. So Whut issa Dawg s'sposed to do? And by Now it has multy-plied innu a Bunch ob Strange Cats that are axtchually Diggin' inna Rose and Herb Gardin! And not only in Our Warren's Memorial Rose and Herb Gardin, but also in  Lilly-n-Penny NextestDoor's Gardin, too, and in alla Gardins all over ebbery Dawgs' Terrytorry! All because we Dawgs have got up too late, AftaDayLight. "

"Well," Axted Missy, looking frum me toda Dawg. "Who are these Catz?"

Anna Dawg shrugged again. "Howdaheck do I know?" he axted, his eyebrows wigglin' furiously. "I hab nebber met them. Lilly-n-Penny NestestDoor hab nebber met them. We bark, we hextchange the Noos with alla Udder Dawgs inna Neighbourhood during the Morning and AftaNoon Barks, and ebberyDawg has seen them, but noDawg knows Who They Are or Where They Live. The Catz are just Heer, crossing ebberyDawg's Terrytorry, diggin' up ebberyDawg's gardin, messin' up ebberyDawg's smells. It is Not Right!"

Anna Dawg sorta collapsed inna heap on his towel onna floor inna BunPoom nextest to Our Habbytat.

And right about then, Cokie-the-Fat-Cat wandered in frum Uppystairs, hadda look around, and sat down.

"I told you," He said toda Dawg. "Those Catz out there are Ferals."

So Mr Mouse axted him, "Whut are 'Ferals'?"

"Ferals are cats that usta be someperson's cats but now they aren't." Said Cokie. "They usta live inside of-a-houz, like we do, but then someone either got tired of them, or else they got out and no one went to look for them, or something happined and they went frum being Indoor Cats to being Outdoor Cats. Cats can do that." Cokie said, looking at Mr Mouse. "We don't *need* people. We can catch our own food and don't need to have it brought to us."

And Missy popped her head up and said, "Lemme tell you, you need people, FatBoy, onna'count obba Fakt you couldn't move fast enough to catch ennyfing besides a cold, Dadda said. And, you smell so bad enny prey annymal could sniff you coming miles downwind. Maman said you need to go toda Spa!"

And she laughed.

"Well," Purred Cokie, looking very satisfied with himself. "I amma Fully'Dapted Indoor Domestic Kitty. I don't *do* 'Outside'. But these Cats-Inna-Yard are Ferals - cats that have made the transition from 'Domestic' to 'Wild'."

"So where are their Maman's and Dadda's?" I axted.

"Gone." Shrugged Cokie. "Hoomins take Dawgs to shelters and they sumtimes take bunnies to PetShops when they get tired of them -"

"Or else abandon them in cardboard boxes atta V-E-Ts all OnAlone." I added, because that's whut had happined to me before Maman rescued me.

"And Udder Horrible Fings." Agreed Cokie before continuing, "Hoomins are Cruel. We all know that. And lots of times, they just throw Cats out the door and figger if they put out sum kibble, the cat can find shelter sumwheres, anna Cats will get on with their lives just fine. And the Cats come and go for awhile, and then, because no one cares for them, they mostly just go and that's how they become Feral."

Cokie looked at Da Dawg drying his paws onna towel and sniffed, "The thing is, Dawgs get depressed when they discover Hoomins have let them down."

Then Cokie looked at Missy and me and said, "And Bunnies live in Hope that Sum Udder Hoomin will give them a Forebber Home."

Then Cokie shook his head and took up grooming his paws,. "But we Cats know," he said between licks. "That Hoomins are unreliable and sumtimes don't Love you Forebber, so we just get on with LIbbin'. That way, we don't get disappointed when we are not loved, because we kind of hextpect to be left alla'long."

"So whut's going to happin to these Feral kitties?" I axted Cokie. And every udder Bunny in Our Warren murmured the same. Belinda Bunny first said it and we made it Our Motto many years ago: "No Bunny OnAlone!" 

"Well," Said Cokie, rolling over onto his back and waving his paws inna air. "If the Outdoor Catz aren't spayed or neutered  they will have kittens. And they will stay in this area because there is food for them, and they will teach their kittens to find  where they have found it. And they will teach their kittens to stay away frum Hoomins so that the kittens will never have their hearts broken by being taken innu Forebber Homes that rilly aren't Forebber."

"And that's how" Said Cokie, and he sounded very angry. "That is how Thrown-Away Stranger-Cats will 'Stablish a Feral Cat Colony right heer where we live with Responsible Pet Owners who have fences to keep in their dawgs and who have houses for their kiitties and special rooms for their bunnies! It only takes WUN IRRESPONSIBLE PET OWNER to make aLotta Misery."

And Cokie rolled himself upright and began to lick his paws.

Then he stopped again, and looked up and said sarcastically, "WUN STOOPIT SELFISH PET OWNER. Because whoebber let that Furst Kitty out of their house prob'ly finks they "did it a favour". And they fink that by not spaying or neutering their pet they are letting it "live naturally" and that by putting it out in the cold and dark that they are "following nature's order". It's all EXCUSES - fings hoomins make up to say hoping to make themselves feel bedda'bout being irresponsible and selfish."

"But we don't gots room for alla them to live heer!" Cried Dusty, the Very-Small-Pet-Me!-Bunny, looking around his habbytat inna panic. "I mean, I just got heer, and alreddy there are not enuf hands to PET THE BUNNY! I turn on my Cute alla time, and axt and axt, but there are just not enuf hands!"

And I was, like, "Lookit, Youngbun, calm down! More people stop by to 'Pet-the-Bunny' than buy tikits toda Policemen's Ball - and that's if the policemens even habba Ball, which I don't fink they do, and even if they did have a Ball,  they are too busy to have time to Play with it ennyways! - The Fing Is,"

Well, the Fing was, I stopped, onna'count obba Fakt that I realised that in my hextcitmint to calm Dusty down, I had messed up and said TWO Obba 'FORBIDDEN WERDS'.

Yeah.

"Ball?" Yipped Da Dawg. It doesn't take much to distract a collie.

And then allaovaSuddin, he was on his feets, bouncing straight up inna air like he was on springs or sumfing. "Ball?" He yipped. "Whose gotta Ball? Gotta Play! Gotta Play! Getta Ball! Gotta Play!"

And just because Da Dawg is suddinly on his feets and outta his mind, Cokie-the-Fat-Cat jumps up with his eyes like saucers, and alla his hair puffed out - and this is onna'count obba Fakt that he is shorter than Da Dawg and subject to Frequent Bulldozing.

And, of course, when Cokie jumps-and-puffs, that makes Mr Mouse jump, which makes Dusty, who is young and pretty springy alreddy, start zinging back-and-forth inside of his habbytat, which scares little Foxie down below him and scatters Hay all over the BunRoom floor - so, natchurally I, being TopBun of Our Warren, have to *THUMP* loudly to try and restore Order...

And then here comes Maman, scuffing in her slippers wearing her Bloo Bafrobe over her Flannel Tent Nightgown.

And she's yelling: "Will you guys STOP IT!"

And Missy's head goes up and her ears go out and she's like, "Whut?" So I *Thump* again (but not so hard) for Extry Empy-phis.

And Maman yells, "George!" just as Cokie executes a Mad Scramble around her feets and makes a fast exit through the Kitchin, behind her.

And then just like sumone lets the alla air outta his, Da Dawg collapses onna towel inna heap.

And I'm sitting there in Our Habbytat with Missy and I'm looking at Maman like, "Whut?"

And just as I'm looking straight at her - I go for that My-Back-Left-Foot-Is-Operating-Independantly-Frum-My-Brain **Thump! **

Maman calls it my "Siggnatchur Move" and wonders if it is a sign of HouseRabbit Rebellion or just sumfing stoopit she encourages by letting me get away with it. It's the same *Thump!* I use inna Middle-obba-Night when I've heard wunna those Feral Cats inna Back Gardin and wake the Whole Houz Up to hear it, too.

So, as Maman turned away frumma BunRoom to go back innu the Sitting Room,  Da Dawg looked up at me and said, "If I had got up earlier while it was still Dark, mebbe the whole Back Gardin wouldn't be infested by Cats."

The he put his head back down onna towel and sighed. "That's the whole Trubble, George-the-Bun: I got up too late."

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

Posted by Our Warren at 1:16 PM EST

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So ennyways...

We got this thing called "cable" attached to Our Television awhile ago frum sum guys atta place called Verizon. Only they didn't call it "cable", they called it FIOS and it was hooked up frumma 'puter and they treated it like it was a Big Deal or sumfing, and it at least made Phil envyous about Our 'Puter System for, oh, wike, about wun day (Since Phil built Our 'Puter System, he is usushally oppyrating a 'Puter System that is either Bigger or sumhow else Bedda than "The Beast" he builded for  Maman. Afta all, building 'Puters is Whut Phil Does, and he does a rilly Good Job of it, too!)

So Maman and Dadda had this "cable" put in, mostly so Mr Mouse could watch eppysodes of Law & Order whenever he wanted. It seems that there are a Lot More Chances to see Law & Order on "cable" than on reg'lar television, so Maman and Dadda thought it might be nice for Mr Mouse to habba chance to watch his favourite show more oftin.

Well, it seems that there are a few problems wif dis, though, because it seems like not only are there a Lot More Chances for Mouse to see Law & Order, but the shows GO ON for much longer. Mouse says it's 'Mazing: he can get up frumma AftaNoon Nap and start watching Law & Order right through TeaTime and there is no EndMusics until *rilly* late at night, until Afta Salad Time! He says it can Wear A Bunny Out just sitting there onna sofa inna Sitting Room, so he's decided to share wiffa Rest of Us, so when he gets tired, he starts diggin' inna cushions and Maman brings him back innu da BunRoom and Foxie can start begging for her turn. 

Well, we all know Maman is "Soft". "Soft" issa werd that Dadda uses for ennyfing that is easily Told Whut To Do. A good Hextample of "Soft" would be Da Dawg, who is so "soft" that unless he's being told Whut To Do during Every Blessed Momint Of His Life, he runs around axting to be Told Whut "Jobs" to do Nextest. This is because he is a Border-Collie and Border-Collies can't live unelss they have "Jobs". 

So ennyways, Maman is "Soft" which means that begging werks on her. In fakt, keep up ennyfing long enuf and use enuf Cute and you'll get Whut You Want outta Maman. Being "Soft" also means that if you give her certain Cues, you can set off certain Reflexes: If you turn on your Cute, you get treats; If you don't eat, you gedda Ride Inna Car toda V-E-T's. She's preddy Simple.

Which is how Foxie has preddy much convinced her to let her go sit onna sofa inna Sitting Room and watch Law & Order when Mr Mouse isn't: Foxie turns on her little Cute and Maman lets her sit onna sofa inna Sitting Room and eat Cheerios and watch Law & Order. It's allus werked for Mr Mouse and now it also werks for Foxie. But it only werks on Maman because she is "Soft". Dadda is not "soft"; nidder is Phil, most obba Time.

Missy and I don't bother much with Law & Order because we mostly spend Our Playtime up inna Study inna Mornings. And Dusty doesn't seem to care much about Law & Order, eidder, because he just wants sumbunny to sit onna floor wif him and PET THE BUNNY!

But along with the "cable" thing and long stretches of Law & Order, there also came this Wedder Channel.

Now this Wedder Channel is mostly about Maps & Disasters. Furst they show a Disaster, wif lots of wind, rain, lightning and tornadoes and then show a Map so that you can see when the Nextest Disaster is headed to the place nearest you. And then they act all happy that you're the One Gonna Ged It. And then they send sum Hoomin to stand out inna Disaster to wander around, ged inna way and axt everybunny how they're coping wif Being Inna Disaster. Which they then put inna Show wif more Maps.

So that's the Wedder Channel that Maman has on before Mr Mouse anna Rest ob Us wake up frum Our AftaNoon Naps.

So Yestidday, don't you know that the Wedder Channel had on wunna their Maps, showing an incipient Disaster, and don't you know, there wassa Disaster, located right onna a Map ob Us!

Whoa.

Anna Perky People onna Wedder Channel were happily telling Maman that We Might Get SNOW.

Well, like I told you, Maman is "Soft", which means that she responds to certain fings wiffout Finking. But telling Maman We Might Get SNOW doesn't trigger her "Disaster Reflex". She has anudder Reflex called a SNOW Reflex that causes her to go to the bottom obba stairs and yell uppystairs to Dadda, "Brian, do we hab milk?"

Now Milk lives inna Refriggyator which is heer inna BunRoom, which also has Our Salad. We refer to the Refriggyator assa Salad Bank: Maman and Dadda (and sumtimes, Phil) make deposits and Alla Us Togedder make withdrawls.

But Maman doesn't allus check the Milk Reserves inna Salad Bank. She calls UppyStairs to Dadda and axts him as soon assa Map & Disaster People onna Wedder Channel mention SNOW-For-Us.

And Dadda is, wike, "Whut?" Because he ushually isn't finking 'bout milk, ennyways, and not when he is Uppystairs, werking onna 'puter.

And so he starts coming Downnastairs to see Whut Maman is OnAbout.

And because Maman is walking around and calling, Da Dawg axts to go OnPatrol, so Maman lets him OutSide innu the Back Gardin. 

Then she goes and gets the tellyphone and starts pushing buttons. And, of course, we can only hear her side obba talking:

"Have you got milk?" Pause. "Oh. Well, I didn't know you were asleep. Wwake up and listen. I said, 'Do you have milk?'." Pause. "Because it's going to SNOW." Pause. "The Weather Channel." Pause. "Two-to-four-inches." Pause. "I know you know how to drive in snow, but you're driving my car." Pause. "It's the Other Idiots on the road I worry about." Pause. "Well, if you come over, I'll give you money and you can get milk and maybe some good bread for us and for yourself." Pause. "Love you, too, Sweetie."

By which time, Da Dawg is back AttaDoor, finished wif his Patrol. So Maman lets him in and he goes past us and says to me, "I don't smell ennyfing out there, 'cept squirrels."

And I'm wike, "No SNOW?"

Anna Dawg is wike, "Not wiffin miles. It's too warm for SNOW."

But by that time, Dadda has arrived inna Kitchin. And he's wike, "Whozzat onna phone?"

And Maman says, "It's going to SNOW. I got Phil coming over to go get us bread, milk, a couple cans of dog and cat food, and some Emergency Romaine."

And Dadda looks at her, frowns and then he comes out innu the BunRoom and hassa look at Dusty.

And Dusty stands up and pleads, "Dude! PET THE BUNNY!"

And Dadda sort of shudders, shakes his head and goes over to Mr Mouse and looks innu his habbytat and says, "Whut'cha doin' Mouse-kus?"

So Mouse, who is still napping, opins wun eye and grunts: "Bugger off."

So Dadda (who speaks preddy good Lagomorphin) bends down to check in with Foxie and calls her "Princess" and gives her ear-strokes and alla that onna'count obba Fakt she's "Dadda's s'Pecial Widdle Gurl" and is pouring onna Cute.

And then he finally comes over to Missy and me, opins up Our Habbytat and axts me, "Whut's up with You Buggers?"

And I'm, like, "Beats me. Maman's going Nutz. She's in SNOW Reflex when all it's going to do is rain. But, hey, if it gets us Treats, then I'm Forit."

And Missy - who was sleeping - gets startled, and lets out a "Whaaa!" and bounces over-top of me and lands with her nose up my ear. I can hear her snuffling.

And Dadda's wike, "Sorry Miss-Gurl. Didn't mean to startle you." And then he sees she's got her nose stuck right up my ear, and so he axts her, "Hey, can you see daylight through there?"

Very funny.

Then he goes out innu the Kitchin where Maman has produced a pen & paper and is busy writing a list.

And right then, the Da Dawg starts bouncing up and down and yipping, "Phil! Phil! Phil!" - which is all part of Da Dawg's OnGoing Job as Guardian Obba House, part of which is to Alert Us Who's Atta Door.

And in comes Phil and he's all rubbing his eyes and grumpy. And he says to no one in particular, "I was asleep."

So Maman says, "Here." and gives him her list, while Dadda is digging in his trousers for his wallet.

And Maman says, "It's going to SNOW - two-to-four inches."

And Dadda mutters over his wallet, "It is not going to SNOW."

And Phil mutters back to Dadda, "Yeah I know that."

And Maman says, "I heard it on the Wedder Channel. There's a Low Pressure System coming right up the coast and there's a layer of Arctic Air - they had it all on a Map!" And she starts cleaning up the Kitchin sink. "I'm going to need milk, good bread and everything on that List, so I can make enough Veggytable Soup for Alla Us..."

And Dadda sort of sighs. And Phil sorta rolls his eyes.

And Dadda hands Phil sum munny and says, "Lookit, we need wun gallon of milk. And get wun for yourself, but I had a look at the bunnies and none of therm are snugged up, and the Dawg and both Catz are lying right out in the open. There's NO SNOW coming."

And Phil takes the munny and says so only Dadda and Us can hear, "Yeah, my cats are sprawled all over, too. Rain, maybe."

And out he goes, and comes back with milk.

And Maman spends the best part of the Rest Obba Day telling Alla Us Togedder how Sorry Dadda and Phil are gonna be When The Blizzard Comes and they have NO good bread to eat with their Veggytable Soup that Maman won't be able to make when the Elektrick Power has gone out like it did during the Huge SNOWstorm that Happined UnExpecktedly right heer back when Maman Was Small.

So this morning, we woke up, and do you know whut? It's Raining...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:42 AM EST

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Belinda Bunny started this whole "The Hay Diaries" blog back on 1 January 2004.

Yeah.

It was the Very Furst Bunny Blog of it's kind. And that was Four Years Ago.

Most on-line blogs last an average of three months, so I've been told - six monthsfallow atta most - and then they sort of go like untended gardins, sort of . They just sit there out on the web, and that's pretty much where they stay.

But The Hay Diaries was going on more or less since 1 January 2004. Begun by Belinda Bunny, carried on under varying kinds of management by Udder Bunnies and then getting left to, well, to me.

And well, you know, afta alla this time, I kind of thought that as it began quiet and was getting ebben more quiet, it would kinda just, well, you know, vanish quiet, too. No everybunny wants to hear whut Wun Small Bunny wants to say (which I realise) and sumtimes Lagomorphin is not a language everybunny is able (or even willing) to learn (but my Inkwish seems to have improved as I werk onnit!). And that's Fair.

Onna'count obba Fakt, let's face it, the whole Blogosphere has gotten pretty crowded lately. Inna beginning there wassa All-fired Rush to get a "screen-name", Maman bemembers, then to establish a web-site and getta home-page; now it's a blog.

When Belinda Bunny first started to type "The Hay Diaries", even the werd "blog" was new to most hoomins, and she spent a lotta time hextplaining Whut She Was Doing, having a blog inna Furst Place. But we bunnies are good at exploiting new technology! We have to be! It's a survival-thing. As Belinda noted, we don't got Opposable Thumbs, so until we discovered the 'puter with its keyboard, we didn't have any written commoonykayshun skills at all - we didn't have any written-down language, and so we sat silent, even though we had plenty of 'Pinions and Observations all of our own. 

Like all bunnies, Belinda had to learn Inkwish. She learned what the werds meant, then spelled them out the way she heard them, and figgered out Whut They Meant in Lagomorphin, which is a HouseRabbit's natural Language. Hoomin spelling convenshuns are hard. Belinda re-set her own Spell-checker and made a Dik-Shun-Airy of Werds.

And then she went and passed over the Rainbow Bridge and left the Whole Mess to me, George.

And I was inna the business of Growing 'Tellygint, which I still am. This is Not As Easy As It Looks. Just sitting heer on Maman's lap, or over heer onna FooTon, or in the habbytat messing around with MissyBun won't do it. Growing 'Tellygint issa Active Project a HouseRabbit keeps on doing, all day, every day. There is just no stopping frum doing it. So concentrating on Growing 'Tellygint and typing a blog gets preddy complykated fairly early on (that is, frumma get-go).

Anna Udder Fing about having a blog is like I said, there are so menny of them around. You can't even read a Noospaper inna morning on Maman's Lap without finding all kinda refrences about This Blog and That Blog. Blogs usta be Commints Onna Noos and somehow, they have Become The Noos! It is Amazing! Wun Person types that they have just caught a glimpse of somebun, somewhere, and *bang!* - it's noos that gets reported inna Noospaper. It's like, you wanna find out whut's going on, don't read the Noospaper, go read a Blog.

And there is a lotta misinformayshun on a lotta blogs, too, that are pretending to be The Troof. I find this discouraging. Lookit ennywhere's onna Werld Wide Web and you can find sum self-defined "ex-pert" (defined to me by Dadda assa "ex" = "has been" + "spurt" = "a drip under pressure") who hassa whole blog that's devoted to "exposing" sum sort of historical fact as pure fiction, or trying to make what is rilly and truly bad look like sumfing good.

It seems, sumtimes, to Wun Small Bunny that there is no sense in typing his own thoughts and 'pinions inna welter of so much Noise and Confoozshun.

But then, suddinly, you get Surprised By Nice!

Yeah!

Here you are, feeling lost and lonely, like Wun Small Bunny quietly vanishing and then you are Surprised By Nice!

Sumbunny extends their paw to you, or you meet sumbunny coming along inna tunnel, or sumbunny catches you up inna friendly way along a dusky sort of trail and there you are, Surprised by Nice when you are least hextpecting it, frumma direkshun in which you nebber looked!

Now, of course, the "Moral Obba Story" says Maman, is that Wun Small Bunny should probably keep his eyes more opin and not go feeling so sorry for himself.

And like I told her, "You shouldn't spend so much time locked up wif buks."

And the two Catz anna Stoopit Dawg didn't say ennyfing onna'count obba Fakt that they still can't agree about Who Is 'Lowed to Nap on Which End Obba FooTon when there is not Wun Small Bunny oxquepying it (because they are all banished frum Maman's Study when Missy and I are in heer) ennyways. For Sum Reason we are having Ownership Issues, Maman said. I don't see enny Issues, onna'count obba Fakt that I've chinned the whole FooTon besides leaving pooties, so it's mine and there's no Ishoo frumma Bunny-point-ob-The-View (which is the only Point-of-The-View that matters). Missy doesn't like to sit up heer and would rather Patrol the floor and leave pooties inna Cats' Litterbox, and no Udder Bunnies come up heer.

So ennyways...

Even though the Whole Blogoshpere can feel very cold and full of Loud, I guess that even Quiet Voices can be missed. Nice can be missed, too, which is why you can  be Surprised By it. Nice can be Very Quiet, and go totally unappricittyated in cold, loud places - and I am very thankful for Nice.

So because I have been Surprised by Nice, I will continue to type "The Hay Diaries", like Belinda wanted. And I will go on making Observations and having 'Pinions, and all, the way she did, too. Because HouseRabbits are Quiet, it does not mean that we do not have a Voice; and having a Voice, that our Voice does not continue to Speak Out-Loud.

Thank you, Barnhart Bunnies! Thank you, Cousin Sheeba! Thank you, Alt Warren! Thank you EveryBun Who Reads This! You are all part of the Surprising Nice that surrounds this Wun Small Bunny!

-------------------------------- By George! (who keeps his promises =:x)

Posted by Our Warren at 1:23 PM EST

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As you know, Maman and I read Noospapers on-line every morning. I sit on her lap and Maman oppyrates the 'puter. It's more of Whut We Do.

And when I see sumFing inner'resting, I allus make sure to type about it in my Blog, so I can share it with Udders.

Yeah.

So this is Whut We Found today, inna Noospaper called The Telegraph (UK) Online Edition: Reindeer Really Can Fly!

And this, is Important.

Because Maman found MissyBun and me (George), digesting anudder'wunna of her Buks the udder day. For sum reason, this upsets her. It's not like there is a shortage of Buks in this Houz, like she is going to miss the few that Missy or I happen to digest. Besides, it is good to digest Buks because that is all part of Growing 'Tellygint, which is Whut Bunnies Do instead of Growing Old.

So I don't know why Maman gets all hextersized'bout Missy or me (George) digesting a Buk now and again - especially when she is the Wun Who Says that "EveryBunny should habba Buk at Chrissymiss" and who goes around adding even more Buks to the ones already heer. The whole "dek-dor" (as Maman says) of this place seems to depend on Buks, if you axt me, onna'count obba Fakt that they are Ebberywheres, 'specially lining the walls in Dadda's Office and Maman's Study.

I mean, a bunny can hardly move wiffout habbin' to hop over Buks. If this were The Wild, then Buks would be rocks strewn all ober the ground, you know? Or fallen tree-trunks. They would be Obstickles to get around, or get ober, or move-outta-the-way!

But heer in Our Warren, Buks are to be digested, but it is sort of hard not to go reading the werds onna pages while you're digesting them, you know?

So ennyways, I was digesting a Buk called "Hogfather" by sum guy named Terry Pratchett. (Maman has a lotta Buks with his name on them.)

And in this Buk, the Anthropomorphic Personification named DEATH (by which I mean he issa protagonist, just so you know) suggests this Premise: Hoomins *need* fantasy.

And this is why: Hoomins believe in fings like Justice, Peace and Mercy - they believe that these things exist! - but if you grind down the Universe, and reduce everyFing in it to its constitute, smallest parts, and then strain those bits through the finest sieve, you will not find one atom, not one molecule of Justice, or Peace, or Kindness or Mercy! Just like you will not find Flying Reindeer. Yet these Fings are Really Real. And Hoomins believe in them. In fact, they need to believe in them, or else this issa Horrybul and Terrifying Werld of Darkness and Nightmares.

And Why Do Hoomins Believe?

Because they believe in the Small Miracles when they are children. They learn to believe in the Small Miracles like Reindeer That Fly, and "...Holly and Jolly and other things ending in 'olly'." so that later on, they can believe in the Big Miracles, like Justice, Peace and Mercy.

And I find this argumint to be preddy Troo frumma Lagomorphin Perspective, too. Bunnies have no Trubble in accepting that Whut We See is Not All That There Is. In fact, we are generally very certain, "That there are more things on Earth and in Heaven than we have ever dreamed or prayed for!"

And this Article inna Telegraph (UK) Online Edition just proves that we Bunnies are right: Believe inna Flying Reindeer, because they are Real. And if you Believe inna Flying Reindeer, then you can Believe inna Blogging Bunny (which would be me, George!) and then you can begin to believe inna greater realities of Chrissymass, inna Miracles of Peace, and Love, and Justice and the Mysteries of Faith, Hope and Mercy!

---------------- By George! 

Posted by Our Warren at 11:54 AM EST

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George is allowing me, his Maman, to type today. Thank you, George.

I just want to say that almost everything of value I've ever learned, I've learned from bunnies.

Maybe one of the more important lessons I've learned is about being Left Behind.

For the longest time, I thought being Left Behind was a very cruel trick Life played on hoomins. Beloved Bunnies would cross the Rainbow Bridge, or beloved hoomins, and I struggled - like so many other hoomins - to somehow "come to terms" with being Left Behind. It always felt unfair or just so very fundamentally wrong that some creatures would randomly cross the Rainbow Bridge while others of us would remain here with our whipping, severed strands of love, on the wrong side of an unnatural and alien divide.

Let's face it; no one likes to be Left Behind.

Imagine bunnies in a shelter. One day they are living just as they have since their rescue, in their little pens and habitats. Everything "today" is as it was the day before: the sun rises, clean water and pellets arrive; hay arrives, with play-time and nap-time, too. And then, one day, strangers arrive in the shelter, and they walk down the narrow lanes, looking at the bunnies, one after the other.

No bunny knows these hoomins. No bunny has ever seen them before. These strangers smell differently from anybun who has visited the shelter previously. There is an air of anxiety about them, perhaps, or an air of expectancy, or seeking - or some other "air" that marks them as "dif'frunt"; because bunnies can sense many things that we cannot, and they can give those things that they sense names for which we hoomins have no words.

And then imgaine that the strangers stop before a certain pen or habitat.

And the pen or habitat is opened, and a bunny is taken out.

And the bunny leaves the shelter in the company of strangers.

It is the miracle that we call "Adoption" that has taken place. A bunny in a shelter has been given a Second Chance. They are going to that wonderful, fabled place - a Forever Home!

And there is celebration! Break out the cilantro margaritas! A bunny is coming Home!

But...

For every bunny who is adopted into a Forever Home from a shelter, there are one or two bunnies who have Not Been Adopted. These are the bunnies who were Not Chosen. These are the bunnies who have been Left Behind.

And it must be hard for those who are Left Behind to celebrate for the one who has been chosen to leave the Shelter for their new Forever Home. Perhaps the hearts of the dear, sweet Left-Behind-Bunnies are broken, precisely *because* they have been Left Behind. After all, they were the ones not chosen, the doors to their habitats were not opened; their prisons were not broken open nor were their little lives saved. How that must hurt!

Because there they sit in their sad little pens and watch as another bunny is liberated, picked up, cherished and taken away to some invisible "Forever Home" - and there they remain in the Shelter, Left Behind, with only the comfort of each other to tide them over the advancing night. They are not OnAlone or distressed, and they are not in danger,  but they are not going to the Forever Home, either. They are *There*, where they were in the morning, with their clean water, their pellets and their hay. The shelter-workers still love them, but it is not the same. Things are not as they were. One is gone and the others are Left Behind.

And the one who *is* chosen means no harm or sadness to come upon those who were not chosen, who remain Left Behind. The one who was chosen exercised no choice over their choosing - but because that little one *is* chosen, they no longer can influence those who are not. The chosen one cannot help or explain or give comfort to those who were not chosen. The shelter is one place, and the Forever Home is *some place else*. Whatever ties were between them are unalterably cut. There is no reason this has happened, but it has. It is Fact.

Yet the Hope of Forever Home remains alive for each shelter bunny. It shines like stars in their eyes that can never grow dim. Hope sustains the souls of bunnies - the hope of a treat, the hope of salad, the trust in Love, the faith in Forever.

As are those dear bunnies, so are we. This place is our "shelter", while those whom we perceive as having died have crossed to the Forever Home. We believe that we will be adopted and taken there someday, too - that is our hope and cherished belief. The bunnies are our inspiration to retain such a hope. They live in eternal hope, always trusting, always believing. They, who were never Cast Out of Eden or suffered from the Sin of Adam, perhaps know some things that we do not. And so it is in the bunnies' constant hope in those things that are currently unseen (which is the definition of faith), that I find the inspiration for my own faith in Christianity.

At least that's what I have learned from bunnies about being Left Behind. In fact, everything I might claim to know, I think God has taught me through bunnies. I've had trouble explaining this in seminary classes, but it's still the truth as I understand it. 

And I would go further and suggest that God made bunnies capable of teaching us hoomins lots of things, but we have to first be willing to stop, listen and to admit that, no matter how *advanced* we think we've become as a species, we'll never be able to see more than "through a mirror, darkly", while those whom we account to be less than we, may account for far more in God's Creation than we can imagine.

God has blessed me to be Maman to Our Warren, but Our Warren has blessed me with the most profound lessons in faith - and I thank God daily for the blessing of bunnies!  And, most especially, for those dear, wise, patient bunnies who have been entrusted to my care!

For Our dear sister, Ashley Mort and her family at Bunny Haven.

------------------------------------------By (a thankful) Maman

Posted by Our Warren at 6:15 PM EST

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Well, Maman told us it's coming up on the hoomin hollyday of Fanks Gibbin. She says that on This Day, hoomins who live more or less *here* are sus'posed to wake up, go watch a Parade, see Santa Claus, then have a Special Feast.

She says most of the HollyDay's Festivities vary slightly, according to each hoomin's Family Lore. Like some don't inklood enny "shopping" and some have different sorts of foods at their Feasts, and some have one kind of Treats and some have Udders, and *stuff* like that. And alla this is passed down to each hoomin according to their own Lore, which is how it should be.

Our Warren has Da Lore as it was told to me, George, by meHunny, *Senior Bun* of Our Warren, and every udder warren has their own Lore that is slightly different, but mainly the same in the Matter of Big Things because we are all HouseRabbits. Wild cottontail Bunnies have their Own Lore, too, which is the Lore of the Cottontails and different from that of HouseRabbits. 

Ennyways, Maman got her Lore assa Little Child, and she has been feeling that she has to Pass On Her Lore, and so she has passed *some* of it to me. Afta the manner of HouseRabbits, I am passing it on to you.

Maman's Family is Very Old and has a Lotta Lore going back about three-hunnert years - and that's not inklooding When They Lived In Inkland. But they weren't around for the Furst Fanks Gibbin, because they weren't PilGrims (Maman said her family, although it was pretty grim, wasn't grim enough to be PilGrims. They were Welsh, prob'ly doing what today would be called "Sekurity" which means fighting and such) and their ship wasn't called the "Mayflower" (It was called the "Welcome") and it didn't land at Plymouth Rock (It landed in Phillydelphia). So Maman's family mainly missed having the Very Furst Fanks Gibbin, but Maman says they prob'ly would't have been invited ennyways onna'count obba Fakt that they weren't the most serious of the arrivals and going to Church prob'ly wasn't high on their List Of Priorities.

But ennyways, Maman says that by the time her Mother's Family and her Father's Family got around to her, Fanks Gibbin' mainly settled out This Way:

As soon as school let out, her Mother and Father would put her and their Dawg inna car and drive alla way down to Wilmington Delaware to her Aunt Margaret's and Unkul George's House. Their house was pretty much slightly South of where her Mother's Family had set up their Furst Warren, three hunnert years ago, and hadn't moved away from much, since. Like wild cottontails, they didn't seem to believe in moving far away from the Original Warren. Maman's Grandmother and Uncle lived in Delaware County, Pennsylvania, and one of Maman's uncles lived in West Chester, and one lived in Holly Oak, Delaware, and another also lived near to Chadd's Ford in Delaware County. 

So on Fanks Gibbin Day, Everybun more or less turned up at Aunt Margaret's.

And Maman's Aunt Margaret didn't have enny children of her own, so she sort of *claimed* Maman (which sort of ticked off Maman's Mother) - and Maman and Aunt Margaret were very much alike. Aunt Margaret was a teacher and had a graduate degree and alla that, and loved books and took Maman everywheres with her when she could. And Aunt Margaret was very tall and proper and made sure that Maman had preddy dresses and matching handbags, gloves, hats and shoes, just like her. And a silk dressing-gown.

Maman says that every little hoomin girl should have a silk dressing gown if she wants one.

So on Fanks Gibbin Day, Aunt Margaret would take Maman with her to her Church. Maman's Father (who was Our Warren's Bim) would go too. then everybun would Go Fora Ride Inna Car to see the Parade in Wilmington.

And just to show you that Students Go Everywheres...

One year, Maman, her Mother, Her Dadda (Our Bim), Aunt Margaret and her husBun, Unkul George, were all watching the Parade go past the Hotel DuPont, when suddenly, some men onna back-end of a fire-truck began waving their hats and yelling,

"Doc! Hey Doc! Over here! Doc!"

And noBun could figure out at *whom* these guys were all yelling.

And then here came the men, dashing through the crowd of hoomins on the street. It was three men who had been Students of Our Bim's at the Teacher's College, who had become firemen in Wilmington Delaware! They had recognised Our Bim standing in the crowd and wanted to come and say "Hello" - so they had gotten off of their fire-truck and run back, three whole city blocks! Just to say "Hi". 

Of course, Maman says Our Bim couldn't bemember their names after shaking hands with them and axting how they were doing and hearing about their lives in Delaware. But that was Normal-for-Bim - he allus had trouble bemembering his Students' names when they were in his class, let alone once they had graduated!

So Maman says Professors and Teachers have to beware - kids are like rats onna ship - allus Out There, ready to jump out at you when you're least expecting it.

Ennyways, at the very End of the Parade, there was allus Santa Claus inna sleigh with eight reindeer. Maman says this is because Fanks Gibbin issa Beginning of Christmas - and Santa Claus allus arrives inna Phillydelphia Area on Fanks Gibbin, according to her Family's Lore.

Of course, she didn't know Back Then When She Was Liddle that Santa Claus was also arriving at every other store in every other city in the United States, too. She just knew that he was arriving in Wilmington on Fanks Gibbin Day and would drive up to Phillydelphia to be in Wanamaker's when her Mother and Father took her there to see him.

In her mind, Santa Claus took the train, just like everyBunny else.

So afta the Parade, Aunt Margaret, Unkul George, Maman's Father and Mother and Maman would go into the Hotel DuPont and have Fanks Gibbin Dinner. And it was allus shrimp cocktail, then some kind of creamed soup that she would eat because it was impolite not to, and then turkey with stuffing with chestnuts, mashed potatoes, candied yams, whole string beans, peas and diced carrots,  creamed onions, and cranberry sauce. Tomato aspic figured in it somewhere. And then there was allus ice cream and assorted pie, or coconut or German Chocolate cake for dessert. Maman says that Rice Pudding (or as she says, "maggots in cream sauce") could also happen.

Maman bemembers alla this because she has learned how to make most of these things, except the tomato aspic. She said she's never quite seen the use for aspic, in general, except as another way of getting the silverware messy.

And then Alla Them Togedder would leave the Hotel DuPont and get inna car to go and Visit Aunts, Unkuls and Cousins, and eat cold turkey sandwhiches on Raisin Bread (the making of which was anudder part of the Family Lore). Aunt Anne served Pepsi, which was something Maman (who grew up in a Coca-Cola house) never drank ennywhere's else. And everyBun ate Charles' Chips frumma can.

Then the Nextest Day, everyBunny woke up early and went to the Train Station in Claymont and caught the train to Phillydelphia. And everyBun went to Wanamaker's Department Store and solemly swore to Meet Unner the Eagle at Noon. That was the Pact: everyBun would meet Unner the Eagle at Noon. No matter Whut.

And Maman says that this is Her Lore, and she is passing it on to me, George.

Now HouseRabbits don't have Fanks Gibbin as part of Da Lore. We don't need a Hollyday to be reminded to say "Thank You" for having a home, and food, and sumBun to love us.

Some of us come from Shelters. Some of us have been rescued from Bad Places. Some of us have been Abused. Many of us have gone for days and days being sad, terrified and OnAlone with noBun to care for and noBun to care for Us.

So for Alla Us Togedder every day is a day full of Thanks Giving.

And this is Our Lore, as it was told to me, George, by meHunny *Senior Bun* of Our Warren:

Hoppy Thanks Giving Day, Every Day to Every Bun!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 2:10 PM EST

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Whoa!

You won't believe this. I almost didn't, but here you are: Click on *this* and have a look! It's from today's Philly.com, on-line edition, in an article called "Bringing Back Sexy" by Karen Heller! Yeah! She mentions lots of hoomins she thinks are "sexy" and then she says, "And, as always, George. But that's just our opinion." 

Wow!

George! That's My Name!

Well, I know that I can do My Cute. Maman says that I do My Cute really, really well. And then, of course, when I'm doing My Cute, I allus get Baby Organic Carrots or sumfing tasty like that - I even have gotten a bite of Spice Cookie when I've done My Cute, so you know that My Cute is pretty 'peshul! - but I haven't been called "sexy" by enny hoomins...

Until Now.

And it is nice to hear.

It is always nice to get Complymints!

And the Fing about Comlymints is that they are a Renewable Resource, you know? It's not like there are only so many to go around and we have to Conserve them so that they don't Run Out. We can give away as menny of them as we want, and there are still MORE of them to go around!

Yeah!

Complymints are like that. They just keep coming so we can keep on giving them away.

So there is no pressing need to *not* give them to udders, you know? Like it is hokay for me to  turn to MissyBun and say, "You are My Beautiful Bunny-Gurl of Gen'rus P'porshuns!" and she'll say, "Yeah. You gotta Baby Organic Carrot I don't know about?" and that makes us Both happy with just ONE Complymint!

Like Good Wishes, Complymints are just free and constantly renewing themselves so that they can be given away. Which is prob'ly why we should be giving them away - because if we don't, they will just keep multyplying until there are too many to be around in one place and then we'll have a sudden Burst of Good Will or sumfing.

Maman says she'd like to see that. 'Peshully in Philadelphia, which is the City in which she happins to have been borned. *I* have never been there, but she says that they have wunna the Best HouseRabbit Hospiddles inna Werld, which I don't want to ever go to, but I guess it's good to know. "No knowledge is ever wasted", meHunny *Senior Bun* of Our Warren once told me as part of Da Lore. So I am passing that information on to you. 

So since Complymints are so aBUNdant, I would urge you today to pass some on today. How about Now? Look over at that hoomin nextest to you - there must be sumfing about them that you can find nice to say to them. Go on, say sumfing nice! Give that Complymint away! Don't hold back! Anudder Complymint will come along right afta you give away that furst one! 

That Complymint in Ms Heller's Mirror Image blog made me happy enough to binky around a little and then to type this blog aboud'dit. Giving sumbun near you a Complymint will make you feel good, too and will help to make anudder hoomin or Bunny happy, too. Just seeing My Name, George, mentioned in anudder blog as being "sexy" (even if I am not sure what that is) is preddy cool. It sounds nice, so I will take it as a Complymint and put on My Cute.

So Thank You, Ms. Heller, for typing My Name inna Philly.com and I will continue to read your Mirror Image blog inna Wednesday Daily Magazine! You have good ideas about Popular Culture, and if it's enny help, I fink you shuld win that Pulitzer Prize fing for finking that HouseRabbits are worth mentioning!

Thank you! And please keep on sharing Complymints!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:13 AM EST

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Maman and I have been reading the noospapers like we always do and I have been sitting here onna footon, Finking, and finally, I just have to commint on summa the stuff I've read...

Yes, well, of course "Chefs are Chemists" and it's not "Food 2.0", it's just Common Sense! I hab no cloo why the New York Times would put an article in their noospaper and fink it is , you know, *Noos*. When you add "heat" to somefing, you are inna biznizz of initiating change atta molecular level. Whut, was ebberybunny who ever cooked a meal onna range mentally absent during high school science class? I don't believe I saw an article about this inna "serious" noospaper like the New York Times!

And then there was the List of the "10 Ridiculous Laws" in the Telegraph Online. Maman and I liked that article and Dadda laughed a good deal about nobun being permitted to die in the Houses of Parly-mint. He says that's howcome there are are so menny brain-dead hoomins still left walkin' around there - nobunny wants to admit they've broken the Law...

And then there was a lot of Election Noos in The Times of Trenton and The Trentonian, and Maman read that. Most of it didn't really innerest Missy and me because it had nothing to do with Where We Live. Our local noospapers mostly forget Ewing is onna map unless something bad happens. On the udder paw, Maman says that's the hoomins-who-live-here own faults for caring more about the unner-acheeve-mint of the township's sports teams than the quality of their children's academic education.

Whut she rilly said was that football is just an excuse to watch the Marching Band. Dadda said American football is nanny-state rugby. (And they both said udder hoomins wouldn't share their views.)

Alla Us Togedder have No Opinion. We have never seen football, only Da Dawg's ball and he has a whole blue baskit of them that he keeps trying to pursuade people to throw for him out inna BackGardin so he can bring them back. We have no idea why he does this, because it seems preddy Stoopit. I mean, why pester ebberybunny to throw a ball just so he can go rocketing afta it and bring it back to do it again?

And Maman has given each of Us Bunnies some balls with bells inside for us to push around in our habbytats. They're sort of fun for awhile and then they mostly just get InnaWay. Then we pick them up and toss them aside and Maman tells us how good we are, because she finks we're Playing.

I hate to tell her, but we're not Playing with the Stoopit Balls: we're getting them Outta The Way of more Serious Stuff, like lettuce.

Hoomins just don't get it, you know? I mean, like when Missy hops around the edges of a room. That's not Missy doing her "Cute" or "Hextploring", that's Missy making sure the boundaries of the room are Safe. She's checking for Intruders, Clearing Vines and Obstacles, Marking Exits - in short, doing Whut Bunnies Do. And we Do It to stay Safe.

We do Our Cute to get treats, but we do a whole lotta Udder Stuff because we've been Prey for a Very Long Time and have Learned To Stay Safe by doing stuff like Marking Exits, Clearing Vines, and making sure that Intruders haven't sneaked in or invaded a room while we weren't in it to Defend Our Teritorry. We snip vines so we don't trip when we run, and if there are 'puter cords or wires inna way, we'll snip those, too. It's called Being Safe.

We aren't doing it to Amuse Hoomins.

And we don't usually mess with balls, even if they have bells-in. You know, Mouse sed that he saw some bunny onna tellyvision while he was waiting for "Law & Order" to come on, and this hoomin was pushing a big plastic ball at his houserabbit. And here was this lovely miniLop, sitting happily in loaf position and this ball rolls up. So the bunny stands up and lunges and - BAM - the ball rolls back to his hoomin. So the hoomin rolls the ball back toda bunny. Anna bunny lunges atta ball and - BAM - back goes the ball toda hoomin. 

So whut does da hoomin do? Pushes da ball back towards the bunny! And you can see that the bunny is there, like, "Hokay, Stoopit, bring it!" and, sure enuf, da hoomin pushes da ball back atta bunny anna bunny lunges atta ball and sends it sailing back atta hoomin and hits him inna hed.

Anna'nouncer goes, "David Beckham, eat your heart out!"

And as Mouse sed, "The only good fings going for that bunny are that he issa Housebunny wif lotsa toys and fresh veggies lying around for him wif hay and stuff, and he doesn't appear to be inflicted with enny Victorias."

But you know, this is just Basic Bunny Sense... and some people call Us "dumb bunnies".... geez...they really need to have a look inside their inner back gardins...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 1:12 PM EST

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Hey You! Today is Election Day in Noo Joisey!

Bemember to get out there and exter-size your Right to choose...

EVERYBUNNY VOTE!

---------------- By George 

Posted by Our Warren at 7:55 AM EST

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Hmmm. I see a whole lotta Trubble on the way wif this Bizness of "Science" trying to explain the existence of God.

Sorry, but it's just How I See It.

Now, onna'count obba Fakt that everyBun who dips even a toe innu enny controversial Hoomin subjekts (but es'pecially ones like Philosophy or Science!) hasta state their Quallyfykayshuns, I will state mine: I amma fairly reasonable HouseRabbit who is Growning 'Tellygint inna house packed fulla hoomins wif  alla these higher degrees in subjekts like Organic Chemistry, Music History, Mechanical Engineering and Computer Engineering and Christian Apologetics, and I have personally digested Books on alla these subjekts, as per instrukshuns frum Belinda Bunny. former TopBun of Our Warren and I was taught Da Lore by meHunny, Senior Bun of Our Warren. 

So that's it, and it's enuf to make a respectable entry onna Inside Back Cover obba regular book dustjacket, which is the main reason why I fink Hoomins state their Quallyfykayshuns inna Furst Place.  

Ennyways...

I notice that there is a lotta literary ink being spilled by Hoomins trying to use "Science" to "prove" that there is no God.

I think this is Stoopit onna'count obba Fakt that this is a misuse of "Science" inna Furst Instance.

I mean, whut is "Science"?

As far as I can figger out, it is Wun Ob Those Things that Hoomins more or less cobbled togedder over Time to investigate their Universe. Before they had Science, they preddy much had Myths and Legends to explain alla Mysteries and Co-incidences that surrounded them. They assumed that "God" as other Hoomins defined Him was causing alla stuff that happined to them inna Natural World - but as Hoomin Technology improved and Hoomins invented better tools to investigate and observe the Natural World around them, they began to find that they could explain the stuff that was happening to them in ways that didn't inklood God the way He had been previously explained through Hoomin Myths and Legends.

And this was about the time that Hoomins identify as The Age of Enlightenment, which is a preddy Important Time in Hoomin development, just as the foundation of HouseRabbits with improved communikayshuns, and the foundayshun of Lagomorphin assa written Language and all, is for Bunnies. (You gotta unnerstand that every species has it own Ages. Hoomins aren't "It" in the Species Departmint, even though some of them like to believe that.)

So Ennyways, there was the Age of Enlightenment and Hoomins got around to writing down "The Scientific Method". And this was important because it defined "Whut Science Could Do" - mainly, look at the World and try to explain God's Rules and Regulations for running it, and how to Improve Hoomins' Unnerstanding of God's Universe that was around them. At no time was  "The Scientific Method" stretched to inklood a Definition of God - because that would be absurd: God existed quite outside, inside and alla'round "Science". "Science" was made for and by Hoomins to try and get a handle on whut God all ready knew, which was EbberyFing.

Therefore, inna process of getting a handle on EbberyFing, Hoomins began dividing up Whut They Saw - and they managed to round up Seven Liberal Arts and Sciences. They had to stretch their minds back to Hoomins Who Had Lived Before Them (that is, into their Hoomin Lore), which is quite right and proper, in order to do this. So they remembered how the Roman Empire went about teaching, and how people were taught inna "Middle Ages" and they teased out threads about how the subjects of Music could be related to Mathematics and how the various "ologies" (that means "studies of") were all related to each other, and they made lists of "same" and "not the same", and demonstrated over and over by way of experiments that their theories followed on logically (and this Logic was discovered by Ancient Greeks), one after the other.

And so by degrees, "Science" got more specific, and each of the specifics of Science acquired more information as Hoomins observed more and more about the World and the Universe around them.

But whole Lots of Scientists who studied the various "ologies" still believed in God. And the confident belief in God (which is defined as "faith") is not at all inconsistent with a life spent working on Science. As Our Bim (who had the degrees in sumFing called Organic Chemistry and was called "Doc" by his students) used to say, "It is the job of Science to inquire into the mind of the Creator, not to inquire whether or not He creates."

Alternatively, as Maman said to me the other day while she was foraging for "Whut's For Dinner" inna 'Friggerator ("Whut's For Dinner", she says, issa Great Quest of all Hoomin-kind - every hoomin forages),

Ennyways, whut she said is, "Science is geared to look at Creation not the Creator."

So I axted her, "So whut looks for the Creator?"

And she said (wif her hed stuck deep inna third shelf frumma top), "Philosophy." 

So I hadda Fink and then proposed, "So Hoomin Science axts 'How?' and Hoomin Philosophy axts 'Why?'.”

And by then Maman had come up wif a bag ob Baby Organic Carrots anna'nudder bag ob Potatoes. And she looked back at me frum unner'neaf ob her arm and sed,

"Preddy much. One thing isn't the other. Using Science to try to explain whether God exists is sort of like trying to use a screwdriver to pound a nail: it probably can be done, but never well enough for the nail to hold up a building. You have to use the right tools for the right job: Science for Creation and Philosophy for the Creator, and even then, Hoomin understanding remains limited. We've only scratched the surface of understanding either discipline. Even our questions lack sophistication."

And she set the bags of Baby Organic Carrots and Potatoes onna'top of Missy and my habbytat and dove back innu the Friggerator.

So I stood up and hadda sniff atta bags, but I'm not much on chewing plastic, even to get at a Baby Organic Carrot. Besides, I preddy much know I can get Baby Organic Carrots for Alla Us Togedder if I start doing my Cute, so I sat down in my Finking Spot again and watched her go on Foraging.

And I said, "So Howcome alla these hoomins are upset over this "'Tellygint Design" ishoo and "Darwinism" ishoo, and there is alla this writing that is unfriendly to Christians in p'tikular and to religion in general?"

And Maman replied, "Onna'count obba Fakt that hoomins are mostly stoopit. Easily confused. Intellectually Lazy. Let's say by way of example that it is easier for most people to blame the modern concept of 'religion' as the cause of The Crusades than it is to take courses about, say, the Medieval mind-set, Feudal economics, Western concepts of nation-building and king-ship, Arab expansionism, the rise of agrarian technology from the X to XII centuries, and hoomin migration patterns during the Middle Ages. Because you need those courses and a bunch of others from the Dissolution of the Roman Empire to the Rise of Christianity and Formation of the Muslim Faith just to begin to wrap your mind around The Crusades.

"It's much easier to say, well, 'The Crusades' were all the fault of Religion.' And then it is a very easy jump to say 'If we had no Religion, we'd have no wars, and if we had no God, we'd have no Religion. So let's have no God.'  And they turn to the one thing that provides a king of 'proof' that no God exists - only, as we just said, you can't really use a screwdriver to pound a nail; Science isn't the tool to prove or disprove the existence of God." 

And I said, "That's Philosophy, and that's a Whole 'Nuther Bunny." 

And Maman, with her head still inside the Friggerator, agreed.

Then she pulled herself outta the Friggerator and she hadda completely full  bag of Williamsburg Heritage Italian Parsley that Dadda had managed to salvage before the Big Frost arrived the Other Night. And Maman had gathered alla parsley togedder, trimmed it, washed it, spun it dry and packed it away inside of plastic bags and stuffed it away in the back of the Third Shelf of the Friggerator just for Us Bunnies. And she opened the bag and began handing it out.

And she said, "No offence to You Buggers, but there's Chikin Stew for Dinner." and said we didn't care because we've become used to it, and then she went on, to me: "You and I will continue not Growing Old, George and just  try to Grow 'Tellygint."

And I axted her, "Howcome?" around my mouthful of parsley.

And Maman shrugged. "I guess because it's Whut We Do. Maybe because We Don't Know Whut Else To Do. There is a branch of Science that's called Biology that has a branch that's called Medicine that has a sort of bud that has two twigs coming out of it; one twig called Neurology and the other called Psychiatry, and then there's another sort of twig there called Psychology and another called Anthropology that might or might not be attached to the others in any way at all - but none of those "ologies" can adequately explain Why We Do Whut We Do. We have a specialised sort of Intellect - every hoomin does - and it makes each Hoomin unique. We still can't define it, or measure it properly, or totally explain how we got it or how it works, or even if it survives the biological bodies it inhabits. We know it is there, and we sense that it also exists in others besides ourselves..."

"Like in bunnies, too." I added in for her.

"Like in bunnies and every other living creature, as well." She agreed. "We call that whatever-it-is 'Life'. We know how to take that 'life' out of a biological body, and if a hoomin removes it from another biological body on purpose, we know innately that this is wrong and we call that 'murder', so it follows that the gift of this whatever-it-is-called-Life is somehow good and we know that we can't give it. We can draw a flower, or sculpt a flower, or make an image of a flower, or even clone a flower from a cell in a Petri dish, but we can't actually make a flower from scratch and make it 'alive'. We can put something of the hoomin artist into it, but that still doesn't meet the criteria to make it 'alive'. So the whatever-it-is-called-Life that makes us, Us remains elusive, beyond our hoomin knowledge. Maybe someday Science will be able to define What Makes Do Whut We Do, but in a discipline that depends upon Logic for its existence, it is Logical to posit that life comes from Life than to argue the opposite." 

"And Philosophy?" I axt.

"Well, maybe someday Philosophy will tell us Why We bother to Do Whut We Do." Said Maman. 

"Yeah. Or mebbe Why God bothers with Hoomins at all. Bunnies were never seperated frum Him inna Furst Instance."

"Uh huh." Said Maman, pulling opin the Friggerator door again and stuffing the Williamsburg Heritage Italian Parsley back inside. Then she closed the door and leaned against it. "Just remember to Whom He Gave the Opposable Thumbs in the Furst Instance."

Yeah, well... 

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

Posted by Our Warren at 9:29 AM EST

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Lastest Nite heer at Our Warren, we watched Maman and Dadda observe the Beginning ob The Turning Back ob Time!

It began with Cokie-the-Fat-Cat inna Kitchen. He came Downnastairs frum his 'Partmint atta Ushual Time and started getting bizzy poking his paws innu the laundry baskit and complaining OutLoud.

Anna Dawg was sota standing ober him, supervising. This is their way of 'Tracting'Tenshion while they're waiting around for Maman and Dadda to Start Feeding Time - which gen'rally coincides wif Our Salad Time, which issa Most 'Portant Time obba day. Gen'rally speaking...

So Maman heard Cokie making noise and saw Da Dawg standing over him and she came outta the Sitting Room to see Whut'sUp. And she said to Dadda,

"Whut's up with the Dawg? I don't like it when he sits over the Cat like that. It looks like he's plotting."

And then Dadda came outta the SittingRoom and stood ober Cokie and sorta gave him a prod-inna-butt wif his toe and said, "He wants feeding, I think."

And Cokie looked up, took an idle swipe atta Dawg and agreed wif Dadda, gen'rally speakin'...

So Dusty was out heer inna Bun Room, and he heard Maman and Dadda talking and started doing binkies to get their 'Tenshion. That's Dusty for you - he allus has to get 'Tenshion.

So Maman sorta wandered in through the Kitchen to see whut's up with Dusty onna'count obba Fakt he was making alla this noise, and she said over her shoulder to Dadda,

"Tell the Cat he's outta luck: it's too early for him to get fed."

And Dadda proded Cokie a little more, kinda thoughtful-like, and axted Maman, "Why is that? It's ten o'clock. I should take These Buggers Upstairs and give them their dinners."

And Maman reached in and started petting Dusty in his habbytat, to get him to Quiet Down. This is sorta like the beginning of Wun ob Auntie Grace's Goat-Ropes, or else the Continuation of sum Endless Projeckt: Petting Dusty is like eating peanuts, Maman says: once you begin, you can't stop. 

And Maman said to Dadda,

"Lookit, tonight is the night that we get turn the clocks back an hour to get rid of 'Daylight Savings Time'. That means that even if the clock says ten o'clock tonight, tomorrow it's going to say nine o'clock at this same time, but the Cat won't know it and he'll be yelling for dinner an hour early. It's best if we save time and get him used to the idea now instead of later."

So Dadda finked this over fora minit, and said to Maman, "You know that Cokie can't tell time."

And Maman (who was still petting Dusty) nodded and said, "That's what I'm talking about: catz can't tell time. So we have to do it for them."

And Cokie, who was lying on the floor suddenly sat up, looked back at Us Bunnies and growled, "Whaaat?"

But Maman kept going: "The fing is that the Cat will be yelling for his dinner an hour early tomorrow. And you know how insistant Cokie can be, Brian. Especially when he thinks he's being hard-done-by."

"He allus thinks he's being hard-done-by." Said Dadda.

And Cokie said, "Cos I aaaaam!"

And Maman sort of ignored Cokie because she was talking to Dadda while still petting Dusty inna absent-minded sort of way,

"Exactly. So the thing to do is not to feed him now, even though the clock says that it's ten o'clock which is his feeding time, because it's really nine o'clock which is an hour too early. Time is only an invention of mankind to measure their linier passage through the universe. It is illusionary and I'm not going to have Cokie trying to impose any illusionary constraints on our decision-making processes."

And Mouse looked over at me and saed whut everyBun of us was thinking, inklooding Dadda, (but probably not Cokie who had just rolled ober on his back and was waving all four ob his paws inna air, and not Dusty eidder, who had preddy much fallen asleep frum being petted) which was somefing onna order of,

"Oh pooties! Heer she goes again!"

Because as Dadda has pointed out menny times bifore, Maman could happily sit on the Rim Ob Hell and exchange opinions about the Probable Maximim Number of Dancing Angels Permitted to Occupy the Head of a Standard Pin.

She's just like that. But it means that Salad Time is gonna be delayed. By Lots.

And MissyBun, who was occupying the High Ground looked over and said to me,

"George! Do sumFing!" 

So I hadda Quick Fink, and suddenly, I called Da Dawg. It's easy enough to do - just *thump* and he comes waggin' ober to see Whut'samatta.

So we went nose-to-nose and I'm wike, "Whut aboutdda Patrol?"

Anna Dawg looked atta Back Door and his ears went Up, and he started doing his "Crossed Paws" Dance, which is preddy hard to ignore since it takes up most obba space between Missy's and my habbytat anna WashingMachine. And it involves alla dawgie-toenails on alla his four feets tappin' onna lin-o-le-um all at oncest, like a bucket ob castanets fallin' downnastairs.

So the noise obba Dawg toenails drew Cokie da Fat-Cat to come see Whut'sUp (because there might be Food involved!), only he was shamblin' atta pretty good clip and hadda sorta slllliiiiiiide to a stop, preddy much unner'neaf obba Dawg.

And Maman (whom he hadda pass on his sllllliiiide down the floor) flared up at him and yelled, "Cokie! You know 'No Catz Inna Bun Room'!"

And she sort ob stopped petting Dusty for a minit, and closed his habbytat lid.

So Dusty, who wasn't getting petting at just *that* sekond, waked up from his pet-induced trance and suddenly began to binky-binky-binky-hop around his habbytat inna circle. Which made ebberyfing in his habbytat bounce and bang right along wif him.

So there we had the pile-up in front obba Back door, wiffa Cokie-Cat swearing atta Dawg, and we hadda Dawg trying to get away frumma Cokie-Cat so Maman couldn't accuse him ob Starting Ennyfing, and we had Dusty bouncing and banging ebberyfing in his habbytat around like a tinker's bag ob pots and pans.

And MissyBun bounced outta the pootie-pan (giving me a momint ob zero-gravity) and hopped over to me and said, "Well, she isn't arguing 'bout Time ennymore, but we're not getting Salad, either."

And I'm, wike, "Wookit, wike Dadda says, I can't work wonders and poop miracles!"

And Dadda came innu da BunRoom, wooked in and said to Dusty, "Calm down, sunshine, before I introduce you to the concept of 'stew'."

And Dusty was too bizzy doin' his "Notice Me!" dance to notice Dadda, so Mouse yelled ober to him, "Cut the racket, Junior!"

And Dusty froze for a minit, and then periscoped, wooking ober at Maman and whuffled the air. And down inna Hospiddle Cage (cos she *still* isn't bonded to Mouse) Foxie stuck her nose out and made a nibble for Dadda's shoelace.

And for justa sekond there was silence inna BunRoom.

And then Maman said to Dadda, "And we're gonna go through this every night an hour earlier from now on inless we start teaching them the concept of 'one hour later'."

And Dadda shook his head and opined the Big White Box Where The Green Grow; and he took out nice plastic bags of fresh-frumma-market Romaine, and flat parsley and curly parsley and Baby Organic Carrots and wun-by-wun he gave them to Maman to hold. And then he took out tins of Dawg food and Cat food and he and Maman traipsed back innu the Kitchen.

And oncest they were there, and Maman was laying outta leebs to make Romaine Cups for Us Bunnies, and Dadda was loading uppa FoodBowls, Dadda said to her,

"Not tonight, Sweetheart. While it's easy to waste time, and lose time, and take time, and find time and even warp time, it takes a lot more effort to shift time. So let's  cross that bridge when we come to it - around ten o'clock tomorrow night."

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:46 AM EDT

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Well, today Maman and I have read a lot of blogs about Where We Live heer at Our Warren. There is a inneresting bridge a ways away frum heer (downna River) of which a lotta hoomins take photographs (ironic or udderwise) that spells out "Trenton Makes - The World Takes" in big neon letters. Some clever Noospaper Reporters take the name of their personal blog frum it.

So ennyways...

We live inna little place called *Ewing* which usta habba Mayor who did a lotta whut Maman says were Not Good Fings and he got dis-elected - that is, booted outta office. He was replaced by Jack Ball.

Now Jack issa preddy Good Guy. He hassa Dawg, which issa good fing. He is neighbourly. He can talk to udder people. He is kind to animals. He is honest. In short, Jack Ball is not some money-grubbin', secretive, opportunistic, self-seekin' career-pollytician only innerested in lining his own pockets atta expense obba tax-payers.

And Jack didn't push through building contracts for unwanted malls, light industrial office parks and senior centres even the Seniors didn't want, and he won't despoil the last of the township's greenland in back-room, unner-handed deals the people of the Township don't get to vote against. 

So we LIKE Jack around heer!

And we'd like to see the Township Committee stop stonewallin' him ebbery chance they get. So whut if they aren't on the same political party as he is? Loyal Toda Pawtee or Loyal to the People Who ElectedYou - which is morally correct?

We'd also like to see The College of Noo Joisey get off their high-horse: they will "never be enny better than they ought to be" (as the saying goes). I hear udder hoomins asking alla time, "Who decided College rent-a-cops were rilly "police" and could threaten township residents off of the campus?" Maman says the phrase "jumped-up" comes to mind.

Of course, Maman can remember when the campus of "Trenton State Teachers' College" (which is whut they were) was open to the members of the township drive around, and walk through and enjoy just like the students. She remembers when the college *asked* for the Township community's help to house their students. She remembers when alumni were treated with respect, not suspicion.

And now, The College of Neoo Joisey (like it is the only college in Noo Joisey!) is closed to the whole township, and has its silly rent-a-militia (with firearms), and vivid light-pollution, like it is someplace special on the planet, above and apart from the community!

Maman also remembers when the Rescue Squad would have been happy to get a new member and moved quickly to integrate him/her into to a crew. But that was back in the day when the siren blew and volunteers had the admiration of everybun in the township - and people who were generous with their time and courage didn't have to wait upon the Township Committee's letters of acceptance. Can the Township Committe afford to be so slow, and so tight with funding that they can't approve a new member, and can't pass a budget for bandages?.

And where is a pleasant Shelter for Lost and Stray Animals in the township? There is a building with huge potential as a shelter on Ingram Avenue, but it isn't developed. The Township Committee (again) says there is no money to develop it, but we pay high taxes (with a low-expectation school sysytem) and have very taxable businesses in the area (if you listen to the braggarts of the Olden Avenue Development crew) - so why is there no money to build a safe, no-kill shelter for animals? Why are only dogs and cats given shelter? Our Warren has tried to donate bunny-related care items, only to be told, "We don't have rabbits."

And why can the Township not adopt a Trap-Neuter-Release Program for feral kitties? The funds were made available, the organisation is there, but again, the Township Committee drags their feet. Howcome?

Jack is a GOOD Mayor. He is animal-friendly. He has a dog. We DON'T believe Jack would turn away a bunny OnAlone.

Whut we DO believe is that Jack and all the other good people in Ewing (some of whom volunteer to save lives!) are being ham-strung by a bunch of self-important, self-seeking career pollyticians from the Township Committee on Up.

And it has to stop.

Maman says that people get the government that they deserve - so come November, we are urging EVERYbun in Ewing who can, GET OUT AND VOTE! - because only voters can change the way things are run in their area.

People get the government that they deserve - and Ewing deserves a better Township Committee! We have a GOOD Mayor - let's give him some GOOD support!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 5:18 PM EDT

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Today Our Warren is saying Prayers and Ear-flapping *Vibes* for alla bunnies who are in Danger frumma wildfires in Southern California.

God be Wif You.

We are rubbing alla our Lucky Rabbits' Feets for the safety ob alla Our Friends and Relayshuns who have packed up their cars, got stuffed in their carriers, and are being Evacuated - Sundae and Beezer, Pogo & Kit-Kat, and alla Ashyville, anna San Diego House Rabbit Society, Ruthie, and Auntie Marisa's bunnies.

God go wif you!

And we are praying wif those who watch and wait, who smell smoke onna wind and know that there is Fire nearby but who are not in danger - Norman, Ragin' Riley and Little Urchin (we are so glad you found Auntie Carla!) and Gabriel and Maggie and Buttons and LuckyHoney-Dawg anna Krasi-kitties!

God be wif alla you! 

We are praying for alla critters who are out there OnAlone, running for their lives frumma towering flames.

God proteckt you.

We are urging alla Hoomins, please, leave noBunny behind! Those whom you have tamed are part of you, and you must not turn your backs on them. Their fate is bound up wif your own! *Things* can be replaced, but life is not hoomanity's to grant or to withhold.

God sees and God hears; no cry goes up toward Heaven in vain.

And we, heer at Our Warren, are sending out Special Prayers for alla brave fire-fighters and EMTs who rush toward danger and do not run away frum helping others.

God hold them in His hand.

And we are ear-flapping and vibing for alla pilots and air-crews who fly the helicopters and airplanes (especially Our Unkul Toby!) who find their ways through blinding smoke and stinging ash and hurricane-force winds -  to drop huge bucket-koads of water on the fires burning high above the trees!

Yeah!

We pray for alla the Heroes of the Fire-Storm!

And thank God for everyWun of them!

And today we pray especially for alla those who are in Shelters, and alla those who seek Shelter...that each may find safety.

And please God, grant Your care and bless us, Alla Us Togedder, each and everyBun!

-----------------------By George 

Posted by Our Warren at 9:46 AM EDT

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Whooboy! I read inna Noos today about Russian Hoomins who say "Nobunny unnerstans Our Country!" And then I read a bunch of commints frum anudder bunch of Hoomins frum Inkland who said, "That's hokay, nobunny unnerstans Our Country, eidder!" And then I read some more commints frum some MORE Hoomins who said, "Well, ebberyBunny shut up, onna'count obba Fakt that NONE OF YOU unnerstans ennyplace!"

And Maman said to me, "You know, George, when I lived in Lancashire, I met people who claimed to have 'seen' the United States because they had visited Disneyworld, and then when I came back here, I met a whole bunch of Americans who said they had 'seen' England because they'd taken the tour around London. And not one of them, from either side, had really seen either country. The British had seen an amusement park, and the Americans had seen another big city, but no one had actually seen anything like another country."

And she shook her head.

"Well,"  I told her. "We bunnies don't have this problem. Bunnies are bunnes, no matter where you go. Some of us have better lives, some of us are not so lucky."

And Maman said that the whole of Our Warren was very lucky, and so we must keep in mind not only to be thankful for where we have found ourselves, but also to Bemember those bunnies who are not as lucky as we are - like those poor Bunnies who are in Shelters, and those lost Bunnies who seek Shelters, and even those poor, OnAlone Bunnies in Horrible Places who dare to dream of Shelters in the depths of endless night.

She also told me about alla housebunnies in Queensland, who are misunnerstood to be pests when they are Companion Animals.

Never believe what "everybun" says; "Test for Truth", Maman says. She says bunnies have a lotta "Honesty" and "Integrity" that we are "Alla Us Togedder" and form "Soshul Hierarchies" based upon "Ability" and not upon "Who Has The Mostest" of Ennyfing.

Well, that is pretty much Troo. You don't get to be Top Bun if all you can do is leave pooties. That's pretty much a Hoomin Mistake in Finking.

Yes, we do have Pootie-Wars sometimes to 'Stablish who is Top Bun, but there is more to a Pootie-War than just pooties and more to sending P-mail than drinking wadder and leaving puddles. These are just messages. They *represent* something else to bunnies than they do to Hoomins. Hoomins see pooties and puddles; bunnies see scents, boundaries and rights. It's a whole Other Level of Unnerstanning, and a Whole Dif'frunt Language carried out in Lagomorphin, not Hoomin.

I think I've said someplace else in this Blog that Lagomorphs, which is Whut We Are, speak Lagomorphin as our Furst Language and some of us speak Inkwish as a Sekond Language. Lagomorphin is not a written-down language, but then, Inkwish has no pooties or puddles involved in it, and a whole lot less body-language!

But because of Dif'frunce, there is Room For Misunnerstanning. And oncet that door for Misunnerstanning is open, even just a crack, you just know that someBun is gonna slip through!

As it seems to do amongst Hoomins who even share the same concept of communication, but dif'frunt werds, like Russian, Inkwish, and American. Just like Hoomins who do not communicate in Lagomorphin misunnerstand boundaries, rights and abilities for pooties and puddles.

So it is amazing to me just how much misunnerstanning goes on - and then, not. But whut seems even stranger to me is how liddle time is spent on learning to unnerstand.

Bunnies can unnerstan each udder acrosst the planet just by leaving one small pile of pooties, but Hoomins are still misunnerstanning each udder and stumbling over language-barriers.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:23 PM EDT

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This is one of those sorts of mornings on which Noo Joisey reminds you that it is a coastal state. You stick your nose out of the door and sniff fog.

And then, a little later on, there is drizzle, and you begin to wonder if Dadda put the lid down on the Hay Bin nextest to the Houz, but you aren't sure about Whut You Heard Lastest Night because you were Hungry and 'Noyed when the Salads were handed out and they were  Really Small because Maman said Dadda had to Go Toda Store this morning and Lastest Night wasn't This Morning, yet, so he hadn't been.

And Ennyways, Maman says there's a Noo Bale of Hay coming today or tomorrow, so it doesn't matter if the lid on the Hay Bin was slammed shut or not, because Dadda said that he brought in the Remains of the Old Bale and there's Nothing Left in the Bin to get ruined...

Much.

But it's reminding us Outside that Autumn is on the way. There is this tang in the air that Maman says comes off the Arctic or sumplace. She says she could smell it better, and taste it better in Lancashire, but that's because Lancashire is furdder Norf - up that way - than Noo Joisey. 

So she says. We are far enough Norf for us, Fank You. Missy says Noo Yawk is Furdder Norf and that, hexcept for Unkul Michael, Bailey and Janey, and Auntie Michelle and Pumpkin and Rudy Esquhare (who has passed her Salad Bar), and Auntie Fern and The Fosters, we don't know ennybunny else in Noo Yawk Ciddy.

Bunnies do not need to sniff any tang in the air to know that Autumn is on the way. We can smell it long before Maman. For hextample, I am all through my Summer Shed already, and preddy much, so is Missy. Dusty's done and Mouse is just wearing a slight fringe on his backside. Foxie is still blowing her coat, but this is because I suspeckt this might only be her sekond Summer Shed, ever.

Dusty axtually said this was his Sekond 'Dult Sekond Summer Shed, mainly onna'count obba Fakt that he woke up one morning and started yelling, "My fur is falling! My fur is falling!" and we had to calm him down some before we could tell him that the Summer Shed is perfecktly Nat'chural Annual Event for a HouseBunny.

That boy really needs to Calm Down.

One of the advantages to living in a Warren is that there are other bunnies around to hextplain Weird Stuff to you that's Perfektly Normal. Like why we wave our ears when we have a Fink about those we love, like Gabe, Buttons and Maggie's Mawmie, at the KrasiWarren. Bunnies know Fings that hoomins don't and so we don't werry in the same way.

I hate to tell Maman (because she gets upset when I point out whut's obvious to everybun 'cept her), but there is more to smell on this morning's air than just Autumn. Da Dawg said he smelled it, and even The Catz mentioned it. It's just that Hoomins don't have Good Noses, which is Not Really Their Fault. It's not part of their Toolkit; they have neve been Prey.

But there is also salt in the morning air. This is the Sea, which is sumfing that I have never personally seen.

And it doesn't smell so very far away, in fact, as I said in the beginning of this entry, it is pretty near to everywhere in Noo Joisey, but living near to the Delaware River (that we can also smell, trust me on this), we tend to fortyget how near to the Sea we really live. It is close and it is warm/cold with jellyfish riding the currents, and huge boats dragging barges down frum Noo Yawk, and small boats ploughing out frum the Inlet to look for fish where the horizon is hidden behind a curtain of grey.

It's only on misty, moisty mornings like this one that the hoomins are reminded how close to the Seashore we really live - and how nearby to Autumn we are coming!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 9:14 AM EDT

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