You know, I didn't want to have to say it, but I'm going to have to. Hoomins deserve to Know: Hoomins who write about Hoomin Politics are Stoopit.

That's All There Is To It. Stoopit. Dumb. Uninformed. Not Bright. Not 'Tellygint.

That issa view frum Wun Small Bunny, lemme tell you.

Hokay, so heer is Whut Happined...

I was sitting with Maman this morning onna'count obba Fakt that she doesn't feel good. The Weather is closing in, anna Map-Guys onna Wedder-Channel onna Tellyvision anna Nashunal Wedder Service are all saying that there are Thunderstorms moving in, and Maman's Migraine is acting up assa'Vanced Warning System that pretty much says the Forecast is Spot On. Plus her hands are all swollen and sum of her Other Joints aren't doing the Jobs they are designed to do, and none of her Meddysin is doing whut it is designed to do, either - so you could say there's Failure On All Parts to Perform As Advertised and she is preddy miserable.

So I went to sit with her in her Study and we read the Noospapers togedder. When Wun Bunny inna Warren doesn't feel good, it always helps for Anudder Bunny to share those feeling with them. That is part of Alla Us Togedder, part of being inna Warren, and it is Important.

Ennyways, so Maman and I were reading The Guardian Online UK, which issa noospaper that she used to read when she lived in Lancashire. And inna Guardian, there wassa article by this writer named Paul Harris that claimed to expose the "Real" John McCain. And guess what the article claims? In tones of hushed, whispersy, conspiratorial confidentiality, Mr Harris confides in his readers that he knows for certain that Senator McCain hassa - *theatrical gasp* - "dark side"! 

And Maman and I are reading this article, and I look up at Maman and I'm like, "Whutsamatta with this Harris guy? Is he a political neophyte or whut?"

And Maman says, very patiently, "No dear, he's a political writer trying to explain an American political candidate for President to a British audience."

And I'm like, "Um, well, lookit - the 'British People' can't be *that* dumb. They 'lected their very own Tony Blair. They know Politics issa game of shadows and mirrors, so howcome they need some noospaper writer to tell them that McCain isn't Whut He Seems? No professional politician is Whut S/He Seems. That's part of politics - Not Being Whut S/He Seems While Seeming To Be It."

And then I added. "Dadda isn't *that* dumb, and he's British."

And Maman said, "Your Dadda is uncommonly intelligent, George."

And I waggled my ears to signal that I agreed with her.

Because it *is* Troo - Our Dadda knows that Politicans are Real Professionals and are no more Whut They Appear to be than actors playing a role inna Moovie. No one, for hextample, gets to be the leading member of a mainstream political party by being an Outsider. Outsiders remain onna out-side - which is why they are are called "OUT-Siders"" they are onna out-side obba main-stream finking, looking inside.

Which of course means that the In-Siders remain firmly onna IN-Side. And that the IN-siders inna mainstream Political Party can talk all they want about being the agents of Historic Change and alla that Stuff - but the Fakt remains that they are firmly stuck IN-Side of their Political Party and they intend to remain there - or they won't have their Party's support and they won't be elected President obba United States.

In udder werds, Mr Harris' article on Senator McCain contained No Surprises. I mean, I guess *he* thought it did. He thought he was writing a Hextpose (this issa Hoomin French Werd that means "noticing the Emperor Has No Clothes when everyone else is studiously Ignoring Dat Fakt") and I guess he is hextpressing his Jornalistic Integritty, or sumfing by writing for a Very Impressive Noospaper like The Guardian.

But it's no Big Sekret that Senator McCain or Senator Obama Are Not Whut They Seem. It is Not Noos.

We alreddy know that. They are politican. Of course they are Not Whut They Seem. What is important is how close do they come to Whut They Seem? How far does each man diverge frum his own "Truth" - and how much of that "Truth" are the American voters prepared to live with, if they elect that man to run the country? 

Now in Our Warren, Maman likes parts of Whut Each Senator has had to say - but she in no way agrees with either candidate's "Total Package". She believes that each Wun, assa Politican issa fundmental liar who has ties to people and ideologies and agendae to which niether wun ascribes, but to which each wun is also inextricably obligated. That is the Nature Of Politics - at Best it forces hoomins to make Deals With the Devil in order to achieve their personal goals, and often the Furst Fing that is sacrificed on the Altar of Ambition is Personal Integrity.

And you know whut? Being TopBunny inna Warren is not easy, so I can't even Imagine whut it would be like to wanna be TopBunny inna United States.

I mean, fings are hard enuf assit is - 'specially since Cokie is *rilly* upset over accidentally being shaved innu "Pussin'Boots" atta V-E-T's and he is still trying to take it out onna Dawg who still smells like "Collie-Slick" frum habbin' been toda Spa. So Yestidday, da Dawg came by, waving his tail and spreading that icky smell of collie-slick all through the BunRoom, and Foxie took a lunge at him, onna'count obba Fakt that he passed 'specially close by her habbytat - onna'count obba Fakt he wasn't finking (he seldom does).

And Mr Mouse got hextcited onna'count obba Fakt he thought she was lunging at him - which she wasn't - but Mouse grunted and that startled Dusty who was napping beside his water-crock, so he woke up before his brain did and did a coupla laps around his habbytat before he realised Nuthin' Was Going On...

BUT... onna'count obba Fakt that Dusty *thumped* and sorta ran a coupla Panic Laps in his habbytat and made a whole lotta racket over the Fakt he didn't know Whut Was Going On (which was Nuthin'), Maman (who was inna Kitchin) comes running innu the BunRoom and she's like, "Whuttsamatta, George? Missy! Are you bossing George around over the treats again?"

And Missy is sitting there, half-dozing in Loaf-position and not paying enny'tenshun to ennyfing at all, BUT when Maman comes dashing in, she's suddenly got her ears up and she's axtin', "Treats? Whut treats? George has got treats?"

And me, who is TopBun, I'm sitting there and I can't even *begin* to hextplain Whut Just Happined. And I'm suddenly trying to beat off Missy who is trying to poke her whole head up my left nostril to see if I got Parsley Breath

How do you hextplain Nuthin'?.

So I can't see why ennybunny would wanna become President obba United States!

But in My 'Pinion, this whole article in The Guardian (which udderwise seems to be a perfktly 'Specktable Noospaper) by this Mr Harris (who seems to be a perfketly 'Specktable, if Hextcitable Journalist) about "Hextposing" Senator McCain as having a "Dark Side" is just a nudder hextample of supposed InnelLectual Europeans trying to Hextplain American Politics to people who really don't care. I mean, the British have their own politcs to werry about - they have Gordon Brown and nobunny deserves him!

But Mr Harris writing about Senator McCain? Is he gonna tell us nextest week about the "dark side" of Senator Obama? (Bet you he won't, because he either a.) he getting munny frum him, or he will b.) claim to have and suddin attack of "principles".)

Rather, he should try telling people sumfing they don't know, instead of taking up people's time with anudder Whole Lotta Nuthin'!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:46 AM EDT

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So tiday, Dadda decided that it was Cokie-da-Fat-Cat's day to go toda V-E-T.

Yeah.

Sorta like yestiday was Marc-da-Border-Collie's day for his 10,000 Mile Check-Up. It seems to be Whut's Going Around (sorta like Maman's "brung-kite-us") heer at Our Warren.

Whut I fink is, it hasta do the Fakt that Maman is having Wun of Her Attacks of Flea-Fright. This issa dis-seese that makes her very afrid that da Dawg is going to bring Fleas innu the houz where they will multyply and make Alla Us Togedder itchy and spread horrybul dis-seeses. Maman says that nowhere has Fleas like Noo Joisey, and nowhere in Noo Joisey are there fleas like in Our Back Gardin, so she must constantly be On Guard against enny obba "little buggers" getting inside obba houz where they don't belong. So as soon as it is Spring, she starts having Attacks of Flea-Fright, and these centre mainly around Da Dawg onna'count obba Fakt he issa onliest wun (besides Dadda and Phil) who goes out innu the Back Gardin, where she says alla Fleas in Noo Joisey live.

So when she lets da Dawg Out On Patrol she allus hasta chase afta him with a comb when he comes in, yellin' "Waidaminit! You might have picked up 'freeloaders'!" 

Now, at Furst, da Dawg was more than happy to go to Maman, even though he could see that she hadda comb in her hand - onna'count obba Fakt that he thought he was gonna getta Fuss - like when she rubs him all-ober with towels onna'count obba Fakt he has been Out Inna Rain and has MuckyPaws. Being rubbed by towels is sorta like getting an all-over body-massage for a Dawg, so frum his Point Of View, getting MuckyPaws was sorta Worth the Effort since he is also gonna getta Fuss, kinda like a reward, for getting MuckyPaws.

So when Maman called him over to her to check for Freeloaders, he thought it was gonna be sumfing like getting himself Dried Off wif Towels for habbin' MuckyPaws. Then he discovered it meant she was gonna go over him wiffa Fine-Toothed Comb, and he has long, silky border-collie fur. So that wasn't so fun, onna'count obba Fakt that his fur picks up bits of grass, seeds, and all-sorts.

So da Dawg stopped being 'Thusiastic about being Combed, and Maman got tired of having to comb out a fifty-five pound border-collie every time he came in frum On Patrol. It seemed like the more she combed, the more tangled he got and the more unhappy they both became. But Maman Rilly Hates Fleas, and Marc Rilly Hates to be Combed. And they Both Said that They Couldn't Be Habbin' Wif This...

So now, every Springtime, da Dawg hasta go toda V-E-T and get sum meddysin that will prevent Fleas frum ever taking a free ride on him ever again. And I guess Maman figgers that since da Dawg is alreddy atta V-E-T's, he might as well have his 10,000 Mile Check-Up done while he is there, too. And if Marc has his 10,000 Mile Check-Up, then the Catz might as well have theirs, and then the Bunnies can go to see Dr Sharin and have theirs and then, *that way* EVERYBUN will have had their 10,000 Mile Check-Up done for the year - and Maman can stop worrying about it.

So afta Marc goes, you can preddy much bet that Cokie is gonna be on his way, nextest.

The only Fing issat Cokie allus figgers that she'll fortyget him.

Of course how ennybunny can fortyget almost forty-pounds of black, mussy, smelly fur punctuated by two huge greeny-yellow eyes that sits onna foo-ton and  complains endlessly is Beyond Me.

Onna'count obba Fakt that Cokie has gotten so big, and so shure of himself that he doesn't bother much to groom enny more. Wunce inna'while, he'll prop himself up inna corner obba foo-ton and try to straighten outta fur on his Bhudda-belly, but not too often. And sumtimes, he'll sort of look over his shoulder to make sure his Nether Regions are still attached to the Forward Part obba Cat. And if you bother him, he'll carefully groom his paws inna disinnerested manner - but so far as Regular Grooming goes, Cokie gave up on that a Long Time Ago. It's just Too Much Hard Werk, and Cokie hassa severe allergy to ennyfing resembling 'werk'. 

Besides, he knows if he waits long enuf, and smells badly enuf, either Dadda or Maman will call up Kim-atta-Groomers and she will make An Hextepshun to her Regular Schedule and Groom-A-Cat. This is onna'count obba Fakt that Cokie is SO big, and SO adorable, and SUCH a "good kittie", and he looks SO pretty sitting inna Kitty-Kup (that's axtchually made for a small dawg) sitting inna pet-shop window when she gets done with him. And, of course, hoomins see him sitting inna window, and stop by and inquire about him and then bring their pets to be groomed there by Miss Kim. And Cokie just sits there, wearing his noo Lion-Cut and his bandana, chats toda hoomins and soaks up alla'tention like a sponge.

It's Whut He Does.

But not this time.

This time, Maman made his 'pointmint foda V-E-T's. And Dadda came uppystairs wiffa Big Carrier. Cokie took Wun Look and scurried offa foo-ton in Maman's Study, and shambled at top-speeds innu "his" corner byda big fan unnerneaf obba winder - which is where Dadda caught him and stuffed him head-furst innu the carrier. And it was while he was pushing on Cokie's Nether Regions that he discovered Cokie had been less-than-tidy about his grooming habits.

"Well, I got Captain Kirk and all his Klingons." Dadda said as he came downnastairs.

And Maman looked horryfied. "We gotta getta scissors..."

"Can't."  Dadda said as he pushed the Big Carrier outta Frunt Door. "I'm running late as it is. Besides, you'd need clippers, not scissors or you might poke him. I'm sure the v-e-t has seen worse."

"But he'll look like a slob!" Maman wailed.

And Dadda said, "Whut's noo?"

So inna meantime, da Dawg was lookin' inside obba carrier. And Cokie is in there yeowling for help.

Anna Dawg was just looking at him, like, "Whut's your problem? You're going for a Ride-Inna-Car!"

Anna Cat was, like, "Yerheeeelllllp!"

Anna Dawg was still puzzled, so he barked, "Ride-Inna-Car, stoopit! Ride-Inna-Car!" and ran off to get his leash, thinking he could go, too.

And Dadda said to Maman, "Lookit, the V-E-T alreaddy knows Cokie issa slob. He's been his v-e-t for the past 12 years. Cokie's been a slob for the past nine! It's not like it's going to be anything new."

And Maman was standing there, looking all werried. And she was, like, "Well, be careful." and then she said to Cokie, "It's all right, Cokie-Sweetie. You're just going for a Ride-Inna-Car."

And Cokie went "Liiiiiaaaaarrrrrr!" and watched as Maman absently relieved da Dawg of his leash and took hold of his collar. "Tell Cokie it's going to be all right, Markie."

And Marc (who isn't all That Bright ennyways) says toda Cat, "It's All Right, Stoopit. Maman says so."

And Dadda dragged the carrier containing the Fat-Cat outta door, anna Fat-Cat was wailing, "Liiiiaaarrrr! They're all liiiiaaarrrrrrrsssss!"

And Missy looked at me and says, "It's times like these that I am rilly glad we are diggyfied bunny-rabbits." 

So then Dadda came back and he's gotta carrier and there's no noise coming frummit, but since he's leaning heavily to wun side, you know Cokie hasta be in there.

And Dadda set the carrier down onna foo-ton and Maman axted him, "Well? Was it Totally Humillyating?"

And Dadda sed, "Well, da V-E-T said it was like eating peanuts."

And Maman sed, "Whut?"

And Dadda sed, "Like eating peanuts."

And he opened the door to the carrier, but nobunny came out.

And Dadda said, "I took Cokie in and they weighed him, and did a thorough physical. He's in good shape for his age, but of course he's over-weight. Isn't he always. That's our Cokie - vastly over-weight and loving it. He remains the Largest Cat in the V-E-T's practice, and in the V-E-T's personal experience."

And Maman axted, "Whut about the klingons? Was that embarrassing?"

And Dadda sighed. "No more than the fact that he's the size of your basic barrage balloon. The V-E-T happened upon them, grabbed his clippers and shaved them off. Then he felt a mat and shaved that off, and then he asked me if I minded if he shaved a just a little more off and said that having clippers around a rug like Cokie  was like eating peanuts - you just couldn't stop. So he kept on shaving 'just a bit more' and before either of us knew it, he was as you see him..."

And while Dadda had been speaking, Cokie had more or less slinked outta his carrier and flopped onna foo-ton with his head on his paws. So there he was and he was nekkid.

I mean that he had no fur on, hexcept fora Ruff Around His Face, anna Flag Atta End ob His Tail and little Socks On Each Wun Ob His Feets! That was it - udderwise he wassa Totally Nekkid Cat!

So I would put his pikchur heer inna Blog so you could see him, hexcept forda Fakt that he is currently unner'neaf obba chest-ob-drawers inna Study and refuses to come out. Da Dawg stuck his nose unner there to axt him if he would, and Cokie called him a Bad Name, and Dadda hassa deep puncture wound in his hand where Cokie was hanging on to him while the V-E-T was indulging in his "having-clippers-around-Cokie-is-like-eating-peanuts" habit - so I'm not even gonna attempt to go and axt him 'bout his 'Venture Atta V-E-T's tiday. You'll have to wait to see pikchurs until Cokie is inna bedder mood.

So that's preddy much Whut Happined Tiday.

Of course, as Missy pointed out, since Marc went toda V-E-T's yestidday, and Cokie went tidday, and Maman mentioned that Beep hassa'pointmint to go on Monday, that prob'ly means that we are nextest on Maman's List for 10,000 Mile Check-Ups. So far, we haven't seen enny of the other carriers come uppystairs frumms basemint, but that doesn't mean much. 10,000 Mile Check-Ups are a Fakt-Ob-Life heer in Our Warren - you live here, you get wun.

The good fing is, Our bunny V-E-T, Dr. Sharin, doesn't seem to like peanuts!

----------------------------------------------------------------- By George.

Posted by Our Warren at 12:27 PM EDT

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You know, each of our Warrens are more or less known for sumfing dif'frunt. This is onna'count obba Fakt that no two HouzBunnies are alike. No matter how much we might look alike as miniRexes, or Lops, or Dwarves, or Inkwish Spots or Vanilla Big White Bunnies or Small New Zealand Bunnies, we're all dif'frunt. Sure, Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren are bunnies, and we all are Livin' As Urban Rabbits as HouzBunnies, but the Troof obba Situation issat we're all dif'frunt.

Heer at Our Warren, we are dedykated to the Idea of "Alla Us Togedder, NoBunny OnAlone!"

And that's Us.

Our Friends and Relayshuns at The Herd in Kin-Tuck-Eee are dedykated toda Ideal of "Givin' Everybun A Chance".

And That Is Whut I am going to tell you about tiday.

Tiday our Cuzzin, Murphy, has left forda Rainbow Bridge.

Maman and Auntie Grace have been onna tellyphone since lastest Night, and Unkul Peter and Dadda, and they are deeply Upset Over Murphy Leaving, as Hoomins tend to get. Maman and Dadda said special prayers for him, with Maman wiping tears while axtin' that if Murph had to leave The Herd, would Belinda, Hawthorn and Hunny please be there atta End Obba Bridge to meet him, just like in the story that I wrote, "Belinda Beyond The Bridge".

As if Wun of Those Bunnies would miss welcoming their Friend and Relayshun!

The Fing issat Hoomins fortyget to see The Whole Pikchur. They only see Whut Is In Frunt Of Them, and then Whut Is Behind Them - as though Life flows inna narrow stream that pools out behind them innu a lake they call "history", and alla wadder inna pool is alla'bout them. They fortyget that we share this planet, and that LIfe issa'bout Alla Us Togedder.

Yeah.

So, a few days ago, Auntie Grace brought sum Foster Kittens innu The Herd. I don't mean "kits" as in baby bunnies, I mean that they were baby kitty-cats, prob'ly liddle Maine-Coony sorta kitties, like teeny Cokies or baby Percy-cats. They were tiny kittens that were too tiny to have lost their mawmie - but that's Whut Happined. They had Lost Their Mawmie and were OnAlone.

Now two obba kitties were doing perfektly hokay letting Auntie Grace feed them Kitten Milk, and they will prob'ly grow up to sit on Foo-tons and hog food-crocks and become Fat-Cats in sumbunny's multiSpecies Warren. (And sum ennerprisin', 'Tellygint TopBun will have to pull fur outta their tails or else hed-butt them inna sides to impress upon them The Fakt that they are members of a Warren, and Not In-Charge...) But for right now, only two of the four Foster Kitties were doing well, and Auntie Grace was Fretting Over the tiniest two.

Then the Tinest Kitty-of-All went to The Rainbow Bridge, all on it's Onliest.

And it is hard, sometimes, to leave One Werld to reach anudder.

But The Herd is alla'bout Givin' Sumbun A Chance.

That is how Pennyroyal came to live in The Herd. Auntie Grace saw her sitting all OnAlone, outside, atta Yard Sale. And there was nobun to bring her in frumma Wedder or to bring her food or wadder. She was trapped inna wooden hutch onna ground where Wild Fings could get to her and there was nobun for her to care about and nobun to care about her. She had No Chance...

...Until Auntie Grace stopped by, saw that she was OnAlone and Rescued her!

And then, she became part of The Herd, and, suddenly, Pennyroyal had A Chance!

Yeah!

Just like that - she suddenly was Given A Chance at a whole'nudder Life! (And Maman *still* finks we need anudder Inkwish Spot around heer for sum reason...she finks *mebbe* when we moove there will be room inna Noo BunRoom that she hasn't ebben seen yet...)

Ennyways, being a foster with Auntie Grace was A Chance forda Tiniest Kitten. And while sum hoomins might fink that not being able to drink Kitten Milk and leaving for the Rainbow Bridge was The End - but Maman allus says, "Death is but a doorway." It is anudder form of A Chance.

But the Tiniest Kitten had to find the way to the Bridge. And finding the Bridge while hardly even knowing this place is not easy.

And Murphy knew this as well as the Rest Of Us. Murphy, no matter Whut Stories you hear - and since he issa Legend, onna'count obba Whacky Whipper  and the FlipFlops, there are going to be a Lotta Stories told about Murphy, lemme tell you! He issa Chawtah Member of R.I.F.R.A.F., too, one obba Few, the Proud, the Courageous who put his paw down and helped to author The Bunny Bill Of Rights (click onna RIFRAF name to see da link, or look onna tool-bar onna left of your screen. Yeah, we hab Our Own Web-site!).

Yeah!

But Furst and Foremost, Murphy issa HouzRabbit, and he knew the Lore obba HouzBunnies, as well assa Lore of The Herd Frum Kin-Tuck-Eee. And because he wassa Senior Bun, he knew frum Elder Bunny Dreams about the Journey to the Rainbow Bridge, The Manner of Leave-taking, and How to Get There Frum Here.

So lastest night, Murphy thought he might have to leave and gather up the Tiniest Kitten - but - no, hang on... and back he came, onna'count obba Fakt that there issa *Military Tradishun* in The Herd. They know alla'bout planning campaigns and manoovers and alla that ordinateerin' stuff that Our Warren has Trubble getting Offa Ground. (That is Wun Fing about Bunnies - whut Wun Warren can't do, anudder can! Rabbits live inna Socially Co-operative Society and we don't bugger about trying to do Whut We Can't...) And Murphy's Military Tradishunal Training stretched back alla his nine years!

For hextample, he knew that armies march on their stomachs.

And Murph never met a meal he didn't like.

So he packed in salad, had sum hay, hadda nap and talked ebberyFing over with the rest of The Herd so that they knew Whut Was Up. Then he hadda'nudder nap. And sum more hay.

And then the Second Smallest Foster Kitty left for the Rainbow Bridge.

And Murphy had a little bit more hay, and then he carried out the Mission of The Herd. It was hard, you know? But Murphy did Whut The Herd Does. He quietly said "I love you" to Auntie Grace and Paul and went to get the poor little confoozled kitties.

Because Sumbunny had to Give Them A Chance to find their way to the Rainbow Bridge. And Givin' EveryBun a Chance issa Mission of The Herd.

It's Whut They Do.

Because of Auntie Grace, All Four obba Kittens were Given A Chance to became members of The Herd. And because they all were part of The Herd In Kin-Tuck-Eee, they all hadd'A Chance to know Murphy and to drink Kitten Milk. So the two Bigger Kittens chose A Chance atta Noo Life heer, and because of knowing Murphy, the two Littlest Kitties got their 'Nudder Chance to find EveryBun at the little Welkome Hut Atta End Obba Rainbow Bridge - because they were too tiny to have found it OnAlone.

But, you see, without The Herd, NONE of those kitties had Enny Chance AT ALL!

So do you see the Bigger Pikchur now? The Hoomins will bemember Murphy The Legend-Bun anna stories obba Whacky Whipper and Auntie Grace's Pink FlipFlops, and Murphy, Chawtah Member of R.I.F.R.A.F., and alla that is Good Stuff! But Alla Us Togedder will bemember Murphy who carefully planned to give up his place in The Herd to carry out it's Mission to Give EveryBunny A Chance.

And to bemember Our Murphy, we will go on heer at Our Warren, doing our best to see that all creatures become Alla Us Togedder, NoBunny OnAlone!

---------------------------------- By George.

Posted by Our Warren at 4:01 PM EDT

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Which basically means, putting down My 'Pionions and Observations 'bout Whut Goes On Around Heer. And I can't afford to Get Distrackted by Small Stuff. But this isn't Small Stuff. This is BIG Stuff - lemme tell you!

Yeah.

Yestidday was Monthly Cleaning Day for the BunRoom. This is The Day when Dadda takes alla Our Habbytats togedder and empties alla bins unnerneaf, and alla pootie pans are scrubbed inside-out wif vinegar (instead of just being changed ebbery-udder-day), alla haybins are hextchanged out, and alla toys get washed and changed around and we get Noo Toys, and there are Extry Treats Alla'round, and EveryBun gets Extry Playtime.

Well, Maman Got Distrackted.

Yeah. And onna'count obba Fakt that she Got Distrackted, she managed to screw up the Whole Cleaning-Out Fing, mostly All By Herself, but because she issa Queen of Chaos she managed to also hextend the Screwing-up Process to Inklood Phil (who as her son issa Prince of Disaster) and Dadda (who is prob'ly justa InnaSaint By-Stander Who Got Caught Up Inna Whole Mess) and Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren!

Yeah. We're talking *Casualties By Acquaintance" heer, lemme tell you!

You see, Maman is still hooked onna whole Fantasy that she can bond Foxie Princess Kyootchick to *sumbunny*. And she keeps insisting that we gotta share this Fantasy with her. She is also preddy dedykated to the idea that This Fantasy has to happin bifore alla this Moovin' Fing takes place, so that Alla Us Togedder will sumhow feel More SeeCure while we're all going for A Ride Inna Car.

And that's Maman's Fantasy. Which isn't necessar'ly a 'Pinion or Belief As Hextpressed Byda Managemint (lemme tell you!).

I mean, when is she gonna learn? How menny times do we hafta tell her? Mr Mouse only wants to own ebberyfing and not share. Dusty only "Bonds" to Hoomins! I mean *rilly*! This bonding-fing didn't werk the last time Maman tried it and it's not going to werk enny time inna Future, so you'd fink (wouldn't you?) that Maman would getta Kloo...

But No.

Maman hasta get all tied up yestidday in Giving Them Anudder Chance To Gedda'Long.

NoosFlash to Maman: They don't wanna "Gedda'Long"! Mr Mouse wants to own *all* his own Stuff. Alla it. All for him! It's ALL his and he owns alla'it. Mr Mouse doesn't share. He's a ten-year-old bunny who has lived his entire life not sharing and he has no intentions of suddinly lerning to share now. Everyfing in Mr Mouse's habbytat belongs to him, now and forebber.

Got that? Hokay. Now movin' on toda Nextest bit...

Dusty doesn't wanna bondmate. He doesn't know Whut To Do with Wun. He doesn't know about Grooming and he's not gonna Lern. He wants to be ThePetMe Bunny and bond with Sum Hoomin. He doesn't want a Companion Bunny libbin' with him in his habbytat. Companion Bunnies don't have Opposable Thumbs! They don't have access toda Salad Bank. They don't shop for Baby Organic Carrots and they don't take you Out For Playtime! But Hoomins do... Dusty can manipulate Hoomins to wrap around his paw. He is a far-frum-stoopit-miniLop. Therefore, Dusty has it figgered out that he wants to bond wiffa Hoomin.

I can't help his choices, but you gotta Bespeckt them!

Hokay, so moving on frum that!

MissyBun and I *DIDN'T GET OUR PLAYTIME YESTIDDAY!* HELLO, STOOPIT! MissyBun and I ended up not getting Our Habbytat cleaned out, eidder. Maman Got Distrackted and we Got Left Out!

I'm talking OUTRAGE, heer.

I mean, *rilly*!

And if *ennyBunny* even FINKS we're gonna let this go Quietly Innnu the Night - lemme tell you, we are not!

So this morning we are sitting here with Disapproving Rabbit Looks, and giving Maman the Royal Bunny Butt treatment, even when she hands out Baby Organic Carrots frum the Salad Bank. I gave her the RBB frum the FooTon in her Study all morning (I am not taking this Indiggity lying down, lemme tell you!).

Dadda says we're getting Our Clean-Out this AftaNoon when he gets back frum Werk and Phil comes over.

Yeah.

Ennyways, it's pouring down rain and blowing Wind Advisories outside, so I *rilly* don't fink Missy and I wanna go play onna ScreenPorch inna Cold-and-Wet!

Dis OFFICIALLY SUCKS!

Yeah, so I'm off to sulk sum more...

...because Baby Organic Carrots don't *fix* ebberyfing...

And that's My HouzRabbit's Point-ob-View 'bout Libbin' Assa Urban Rabbit, and My 'Pinion For Tidday!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 2:18 PM EDT

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Well, the more I look, the more I see...

There are Cloos, and they are Happinin' All Around Me! If I could just put them All Togedder, I would know *Whut's Goin' On Around Heer* - because, lemme tell you, sumfing is!

Maman won't let ennyfing get dirty, which means she is following EveryBunny around with a sponge, wiping up everywheres we go, and she is emptying Pootie-Pans without letting us do ennyfing in them. It is almost as it she is Wiping Out Bunny Smells! And we all know that *that* is just all kinds of wrong, lemme tell you! Besides, it's def'nitly 'Noying. I mean, you *Leave A Pootie* to Find Your Way and *Whoops* - it's gone. So now, you gotta start looking around for *Where You Were* onna'count obba Fakt that you are suddinly Lost In Your Own Houz...

And it's no good axting Da Dawg ennyfing onna'count obba Fakt, he's as Lost as EveryBunny else: Maman keeps on telling him, "Marc, put your toys inna Baskit." even when Nobun has been playing with him! And he's puzzled because he hasn't ebben played wif ennyfing yet, but onna'count obba Fakt he's a Border Collie (and they love their Jobs!), he just goes ahead and does it!

So Yestidday, Maman collected alla her Plush Bunnies frum Hunny's Bunny Ministry and put them inna Huge Bag, tied them all up and sent them off toda "Storage Centre" with a bunch ob Boxes Ob Buks.

Yeah, it is beginning to look more and more like sumfing like Mooving might be coming to Our Warren!

But the Very Most Werrying Fing issat We Dunno Where We Are Going, or Whut "'Tire-mint" is Alla'bout. I mean, Dadda usta say he was gonna become a "Gaffer" and raise Tatties. Hokay, so "Tatties" are Dadda's way ob saying "Potatoes" and dat is fine. We hab learned to speak a certain amount ob Inkwish frum Inkland, specifikly Zummerzet, which issa place where Dadda libbed assa Kit. So he wants to grow potatoes. Fine.

And he can't do dis inna Back Gardin onna'count obba Fakt, I dunno. Prob'ly onna'count obba Fakt that he can't be 'Tired heer or sumfing - because he keeps on Werking.

Well, if you axted me, I fink it hasta do wiffa Houz and not wif Dadda! Da Dawg sed that he and Maman were hurrying downnastairs when the telephone started ringing, and then when he wasn't looking, Maman slipped onna stair. But Da Dawg was there, doing his Job (which is to Help Her Stand UP) and she stumbled innu him and so she didn't fall over or ennyfing. But she hurt her shoulder and went to sit onna sofa inna Sitting Room with Mouse and they watched a "Law & Order" marrython and some "NCIS" for a day or so.

But 'parently she and Dadda hadda "Talk" aboud *this*, and so now there is sumfing the matter wiffa Houz With Stairs. And there is sumfing the matter wiffa Back Gardin that won't grow Tatties. So Maman and Dadda sed that Whut We Need issa Noo Houz anna Noo Gardin where they can put Belinda & Hawthorn's Rose, and Hunny's Rose, and Clover's and Bailey's and then plant a Bigger Herb Gardin along with 'Maters. Well, only Missy and Mouse like 'Maters, but that is Hokay onna'count obba Fakt that Dadda sed he will also plant sum Romaine onna'count obba Fakt that We Buggers Eat So Much obbit Ennyways that it would be WorthWhile.

And Dadda sed that Dusty issa Most Efficient Machine God Ebber Made for Converting Salad Innu Sh*t he has ever seen. Nextest to Missy.

And Missy glared at him and sed, "Yeah, but at least whut's in MY pootie box has 'Mater seeds innit! And I don't needa subscripshun to Nashunal Geographic to do it, eidder!"

And Dadda sed, "Yes, you, Missus."

So she turned around and gave him the Royal-Bunny-Butt onna'count obba Fakt that she was inna bad mood ennyways.

And then Maman came along and changed outta Pootie-Pan and there was almost nothing innit! I mean, *rilly*! It's 'Mazin' how hoomins just feel free to Mess With Our Stuff for no reason. wiffout even axtin'! Whut's she tryin' to do - Wipe Outta Bunny Smells? That is just WRONG!

So as soon as she picked up the Pootie-pan, I raced over and peed where she picked it up frum, onna'count obba Fakt that's also My Property.

And Maman yelled in frumma Kitchin, "GEORGE! Don't you DARE pee onna wall!"

So I did. Onna'count obba Fakt that I could, and prob'ly *should* mainly onna'count obba Fakt she doesn't want me to. This BunRoom *hasta* smell like US!.

Because I am werried by Whut's Happinin Around Heer. With alla this cleaning and wiping up and Taking Things Away toda Storage Centre, I am werried that mebbe sumfing is gonna happin Wif US! Where are WE gonna go? Whut's gonna happin' to Our Warren? Da Dawg has No Cloo, but he oftin doesn't. Da Catz, as usual, are just uppystairs, doing Nuffing. So that Leaves Us Bunnies to Re-Mark on ebberyfing, and try to Figger Out Whut's Gonna Happin.

So I'm just Doin' My Job. And doin' it wiffa Blog, too. I'm Re-Markin' 'bout Whut's Going On Around Heer. Which is "I Dunno" and "Looks Like Moovin' But I Dunno Where".

But I got Cloos... It's sumfing wif Dis Houz, anna Stairs, anna Back Gardin anna Growin' ob 'Maters, Romaine, and Tatties. Oh, anna werd "Organic" is in it, too. And so is "Property". So Far, So Good. And it is Happinin' All Around Me, so if I just keep my Ears Up, I will find out *Whut's Goin' On*, lemme tell you!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:30 AM EDT

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This morning, a birdie landed onna sill, just outside the window of Dadda's Office.

So, of course, Beep-da-Udder-Cat, who was lying along the back obba Foo-Ton, saw it and sumfing inside of her kitty-head *clicked* and set her to finking that instead of being a fat, fuzzy, smiling, furry-purry, she was a lean, mean, stalking, wild-fing kitty-machine.

And Dadda called out to Maman, "Hey, come lookit my birdie."

So Maman left me sitting onna Foo-ton in her Study and Missy serriously checking the edges obba Study floor for vines and rocks, and went to see Whut Dadda Wanted.

And, sure enough, there wassa birdie sitting onna window sill, cheeping away, and there was Beep, balanced onna top obba Foo-ton, with her ears pricked forwards like tiny radars and her tail trembling back-and-forth, trying to keep her bowling-ball-sized rear-end frum rolling Wun Way-Or-da-Udder.

And Maman was like, "Whut does Beep think she's doing?"

And Dadda was like, "She thinks she's hunting. Like KayCee."

And they both started laughing, and Maman came back innu her Study and sat down at her desk.

Now I know that NoBunny laughs at Empress KayCee Kitty. She issa Queen Cat who lives with Phil. He rescued her when he was twelve years old, and she was the Furst Cat to ever live in Our Warren - bifore Cokie-da-Fat-Cat, and bifore Beep-da-Udder-Cat. She is *So Impawtant*, in fact, that when Phil went innu The Navy, they axted him "Who is your Next Ob Kin?" and he replied, "KayCee." and that's Whut They Wrote on the 'Fishul Navy Documents. Cokie-da-Fat-Cat admits that KayCee taught him everyfing he knows, and he admits that she wassa Queen Cat in his Chowder, and everybunny knows that in Cat Culture, Queen Cats come Furst (even if *rilly* big Maine Coon Cats, like Our Cokie hate to admit it!). 

So ennyways, KayCee lives over at Phil's 'Partmint and rules over his Chowder ob Five Cats: Tobi (The Polite Cat), Munchkin (Maman calls her "Miscreant" - and she answers to it!), Lilly (Baby-cat) and Oscar (who was found inna trash can). And only Maman can get away with calling KayCee names, like "Princess Priss" and "Empress Evil" and KayCee rides around the 'Partmint on top of Phil's head and sleeps atta top of Phil's bed, because Everyfing She Sees Belongs To Her.

And Queen Cats, like KayCee, have Huge Diggity, and you are NEVER, EVER sus'posed to laugh at them!

So Cokie was lounging onna Foo-ton over frum me and he stretched out on his back, showing his ample tummy and said, "*I* bemember KayCee Lookin' Stoopit."

And I was like, "Rilly?"

And Cokie was like, "Yup." and he paddle-pawed atta air, and then looked at me. "You know the ScreenPorch?"

And I was like, "Of course I know the ScreenPorch. Phil said yestidday that he's gonna help Maman and Dadda get it ready to Go Out On nextest week as soon assa wedder clears up a little and gets Warm."

And Cokie was like, "That'll be cool. Habbin'a 'Partmint is all right, but it will be nice to switch venues. I could use a change of scenery, even if I do have to Go Downnastairs to Get There. I bemember Wun Summer Morning, when Maman had opined the ScreenPorch Door Furst Thing bifore she had even gotten her coffee, or gotten her Buk to read the Daily Office with Dadda. It was so early that alla Bunnies were still in their habbytats."

And I said, "I don't bemember this."

And Cokie said, "That's because it's 'BeeGee', as in 'Before George' as in you hadn't been adopted yet."

And I said, "That must have been early inna morning if there were no bunnies out onna ScreenPorch yet onna'count obba Fakt Maman allus lets us be out there for The Daily Office."

And Cokie was like, "Nope, there was just KayCee and me. And KayCee jumped up onna Picnic Table where we are Never Allowed, because KayCee had no faith in Maman's yelling."

And frumma corner obba room, Missy poked her head up and snorted, "Who does?"

And Missy was right, onna'count obba Fakt that Maman yells and we only sorta per-If-*rilly* pay enny 'Tension to her. Maybe at the momint she yells, but that's about it. Otherwise, we just pretty much just go about Whutever we're doing and Maman goes on, yelling about it.

"So," Cokie continued. "KayCee jumped up onna Picnic Table and there were some birdies flitting from branch-to-branch-to-branch through the small trees and bushes that were just outside of the porch. And the birdies saw KayCee and they knew that she was inside the ScreenPorch and not a threat to them, so they were singing and cheeping and not paying the Least Bit of 'Tension to her. 

"And of course, that 'Nnoyed her - because KayCee is a Very Serrious Cat, Queen Obba Chowder, Phil's Princess Priss and Empress Ob Everyfing. Nobun, partic'lary birdies, are sus'posed to just go around ignoring her. So she made her 'Hunting Call' to me."

Cokie stopped to industriously lick his frunt paws. He can't reach any of his other paws onna'count obba Fakt he's so fat, but he has the cleanest, shiniest Funt Paws of enny cat I've ever met. Of course, they require a lotta up-keep and grooming, and Cokie is pretty attentive to keeping them nice - but as it turns out, his paws are the only well-groomed part of him. The Rest Of Him is a mess only a Professional Spa Groomer, or Dadda-Wiffa-Brush, can sort out.

"And because I was a lot more 'Gressive in those days, I bounced up onna Picnic Table beside her."

By this time, Missy had gotten to the nextest corner obba room on her daily quest to clear rocks and vines frumma Hextscape Routes, and she popped her head up and said to Cokie, "'Thunked' is prob'ly more like it."

And Cokie was, like, "Huh?"

And Missy said, "You nebber 'bounced' a day in your life, Cat. When you got up there on dat table, you prob'ly 'thunked' down like a piece of space debris fallin' outta the sky."

And Cokie rolled over onna Foo-ton and looked at Missy. "Are you callin' me 'fat', Bug-a-Lugs?"

And Missy laughed and said, "*I* don't come shamblin' whin Dadda axts, 'Where's Fat Boy?', Chubbo."

So Cokie flopped over on his side and looked at me uppy-side-down and went on, "So I got up onna table nextest to KayCee and she started pacing back-and-forth and doing her butt-wiggle, like she was gonna Do A Pounce on wunna the birdies. And I'm *finking* to myself - 'She can't be planning to Do A Pounce. There's a screen inna'way!' And there's KayCee, doing her Great Hunter Impersonation, tail twitching, nose wiggling, eyes glittering like Maman's jewellery-stuff. And she's doing Hunting Calls to me about 'Swing Left' and 'Go Forward' and 'Keep Down' and alla that stuff like we'd do if we were *Rilly* Wild Cats out Hunting For Prey."

And I was like, "Lookit, Cat, you want to go easy onna 'Prey' stuff? Because I have Anti-Predator Reflexes that are sort of hard-wired into my brain for use Against Cats. And *Most* Cats know better than to trigger those Reflexes in an Adult Rabbit. Because in an Equal Contest, Adult Rabbits trump Cats, almost every time. Didn't Belinda Bunny teach you that?"

And Cokie blinked. "You would never." he said.

And I was, like, "Well, not willingly, but like I said, it's a Reflex."

And Cokie was, like, "A HouseBunny getting a six-foot run-up into a head-butt in the mid-section obba Well-mannered, Visitin' HouseKitty wassa 'Reflex'?"

And I shrugged. "Well, sumBunnies do the head-butt fing and sumBunnies, like me, prefer the kick-inna-toofies method, and Belinda was a little more PawsOn about Top-Bunning than most, but, you know, a Reflex is sumFing over which you don't have much control most obba time. And I would hate for you to trigger a Reflex in me. Onna'count obba Fakt that we are Alla Us Togedder part of Our Warren."

And Cokie said, "Yeah. Well. Okay." and then continued, very carefully, "So, ennyways, KayCee was Pretending to Stalk the birdies that were Outside the ScreenPorch, and the birdies that were Outside the ScreenPorch knew that they were Perfectly Safe Frum Attack on Their Side of the ScreenPorch Screen, and were flitting and chirping and going from branch to branch - and then, just like you-see-on-Tee-Vee - KayCee launched herself like a mini-Bengal Tiger - innu the air, paws hextended, with all claws out - and landed *smack* against the screen.

"And she was stuck - all four paws hextended, flat uppa'gainst the screen, with alla her claws out, gripping through the holes inna screen.

"So I was sitting on the table, and there was KayCee, stuck to the screen, and there was nothing underneath of her but about six-feet of air, and nothing behind her but the Picnic Table about three-feet away."

And Cokie paused to yawn and rub his whiskers on the Foo-ton, spreading his scent around for no good reason.

"So she did whut she allus did when she couldn't think of ennyfing else to do. She started to scream."

By this time, Missy was about through with her Room Inspection and had trundled over to the rug to sit down nextest to where Cokie and I were sitting onna Foo-ton. And she axted Cokie, "So whut did you do that was helpful?"

And Cokie said, "Nuthin'. I sat onna Picnic Table and waited while Maman dashed out, took Wun Look, saw KayCee hanging there onna Screen like sum kinda weird ornament and started whut *she* allus does, which is start yellin' for Dadda. And since Maman has this kinda special 'PanicAlarm' tone of voice that Phil knows *rilly* well, he came pounding Downnastairs right behind Dadda and arrived onna ScreenPorch atta same time."

"And there was KayCee, hanging by all claws about six-feet uppa screen." said Missy.

"And screaming." Added Cokie.

"With no way down." Said Missy.

And Cokie looked at Missy and exted, "How do you know so much?"

And Missy looked at him and said sweetly, "Onna'count obba Fakt I was there, Stoopit. Bemember? I had just arrived from My Fosta Dadda in Noo Yawk, Unkle Michael, and my habbytat was still inna Kitchin while Dadda was building me a Hawthorn's Home of my very own that I mooved innu the very nextest week. So I saw the Whole Fing."

"So you saw KayCee getting Laughed At?" axted Cokie, with his eyes wide like saucers.

And Missy pulled her ears up and away and widened her eyes, too, and said, "I Axtchually Laughed At KayCee!" and she giggled.

"Onna'count obba Fakt I heard Phil axt Dadda if he should hold KayCee up while Dadda disengaged her claws wun-atta-time, and I watched Dadda get wun ob her paws loose, and then saw KayCee start flailing around frantically, and land a paw on Dadda's head, and I heard Phil yell when he got scratched when KayCee started swingin' around loose bifore she re-attached, and then I watched while Dadda-and-Phil retreated to a safe distance to consider Whut To Do Nextest when they couldn't Pry Her Loose. And I bemember that Maman suggested that they get 'tin-snips' and carefully cut the screen around KayCee and lift that section obba screen out and lay it and KayCee onna table so she would feel safe enough to let go on her ownliest. And I bemember when Da Dawg arrived onna ScreenPorch and practic'ly fell over Laughing Atta Cat stuck onna screen and screaming. And I bemember that Maman grabbed him byda collar and shoved him outta Back Door innu the Gardin to eliminate *that* source of Panic. And I bemember," Missy added happily, "that even the birdies outside onna branches were Laffin' Atta Cat Stuck Onna Screen."

"It seems," said Cokie, sourly. "That you haven't forgotten Wun Fing, BunnyRabbit."

"Not when it comes to Humillyatin' A Cat!" Missy hextclaimed. And she flopped out onna floor with her feets kicked out behind her. That's miniLop Lagomorphin for "I'm totally comfortable in this situation, even though you wouldn't think so!" and it's pretty much of an insult when done in front of a large, more or less masculine, cat.

And Cokie stopped and licked his paws some more, which is Feline for "I'm choosing  not to notice that a BunnyRabbit is insulting me, but I can change my mind in an instant because I'm still a large, dangerous critter!"

So Missy began grooming her paws, which is Lagomorphin for "I see your 'dangerous critter' and raise it by an 'I ain't buying it'." but they were keeping their eyes on each other, which is a sort of Universal "Go on, make my day." in enny language.

So I hopped offa Foo-ton and went over to snuffle Maman's foot. And she let me get innu her lap. The Occupation Obba Hoomin sorta has more importance than ennyfing else. If you can Occupy The Hoomin, you are TopBunning the room and everyBun in it. It mostly means you can get Maman to yell or whutever because you have her 'Tension, Furst. 

And noBunny else does.

And it also means that if I complain to Maman, she will Automatically Enforce the Bunny Bill of Rights, which states "The Bunny Is Allus Right"; which means enny critter that is NOT a bunny is wrong, and will get yelled at by Maman.

So Missy got up offa floor and went back to Hextamining The Room for Rocks and Vines and Cokie just gave up and curled up for a Nap.

And I didn't care, because Maman and I went back to reading the Noos - togedder.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:22 PM EDT

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You know, a couplela years ago, Missy and I used to have Birdie-Clocks inna SpringTime.

It's how we would wake up inna Morning Just Bifore Dawn.

Not to the lyrical "Morning Chorus" that you hear about, but to the Noo Joisey Morning Squwalk - which issa whole lotta birdies circling over the Back Gardin arguing over If they were gonna land, and if so, Who was gonna be Furst, and hextactly Where, and What they were gonna Eat when they got there.

And Being Noo Joisey birdies (which are starlings, and finches and Robins and mockingbirdies and such) this required a Whole Lotta Squwalk and most of it was *LOUD*.

Then *that* was replaced by a whole bunch of crows that usta fly in for the Morning Caw.

And that was pretty impressive, lemme tell you!

You haven't heard ennyfing until you've heard a bunch of Noo Joisey Crows flying In Formation do a Morning Caw.

We're talking "Shadows Over The Gardin" here, and you could have played sum of that Wagnerian-spookie musics inna background and got a pretty good moovie outta it, too, onna'count obba Fakt that these crows were big enough to make Alla Us Togedder stick to Our Habbytats and not poke our noses up much.

As Mouse said, "There is no point in beminding them We Are Heer."

But we had Da Dawg, (even if he didn't get the Idea that crows can be dangerous to bunnies) and he coundn't be habbin' wif crows landing in his Back Gardin! Especially as they didn't seem to want to Herd.

So ennyways...

Every day for a couplela days now, We've been singing our Bim Song: "The Spring is Sprung, The grass is riz... I wonder where the birdies is?" - onna'count obba Fakt that it is getting warmer and alla that Spring-like Stuff, only...

There are mostly not many birdies inna Back Gardin.

Maman said that it is Too Early for the Birdie Bath to go out innu Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Rose & Herb Gardin, onna'count obba Fakt that it is still getting Below Freezing at Night.

So, Yestiday, Our Neighbour Don-Nextest-Door and Reg-His-Wife were outside diggin' in their Gardin and Maman got all upset at Dadda. She was standing inna BunRoom afta letting Da Dawg go out OnPatrol and she called innu Dadda,

"Brian!"

And Dadda, who was inna Dining Room, doing sumfing with Tea, called back to her, "Whut?"

And Maman was, like, "Loookit that! Reg is getting her Gardin ready!"

And Dadda came innu the BunRoom and stood nextest to Maman, looked outta Our Warren's Memorial Window and said, "Ummhmm. So she is.She and Don always have a such beautiful Gardin. Puts Our Gardin to shame"

And Maman like, looked outta the Our Warren Memorial Window with him and she said, "Lookit Hunny's Gardin."

And Dadda said, "Yes, and whut am I looking at?"

And Maman said, "Nothing."

And Dadda said, "Whuddya'mean 'nothing'?"

And Maman said, "That's the point: nothing. We're looking at nothing."

And Dadda said, "It's Our Gardin."

And Maman axt him, "So whut's it doing?"

And Dadda said, "Noth..." and then looked at her with "The Look".

And Dadda just looked at her for a minit, and Missy, who was sitting beside me, rolled her eyes and said to me, "Why does he allus just walk right innu it like that?"

And I said, "Like whut?"

And Maman looked at Dadda and said, "Exactly!" and nodded.

And Missy looked at me, nodded, and said, "Bingo!"

And Dadda and I were, like, "Whut?"

And Maman said to Dadda, "Nothing is Whut You See going on in Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Rose and Herb Gardin while everything is Whut's Going On nextest-door."

And I thought to myself, "Good one, George. Missy and Maman are usually onna same mental pathways, and you and Dadda, aren't. This is Why Gurls Circle the Room - laying traps - and Guys Sit Onna Foo-ton-of-Life, trying to stay outta the way."

So ennyways...

Maman got Dadda to moove Mr Mouse's habbytat and opin uppa Door toda ScreenPorch so that alla cold Spring air came rushing innu the BunRoom. And Dadda went out on to the ScreenProch and hadda look at alla the planters where there were plants Last Year.

And then It Started Up: The Discussion on Planting.

This happins EVERY YEAR!

Every year, Dadda goes to have a Look Atta Dirt.

Every Year, Maman takes out alla Packet Of Seeds.

Every year, Dadda begins planning to dig up new places inna Back Gardin.

Every year, Maman starts making a list of rose-bushes she wants.

And EVERY YEAR, sumfing goes WRONG with the WHOLE ENTERPRISE!

Last year, we got leggy parsley, anna whole boatload of Williamsburg Heritage Mint. Which was hokay if you hadda Fing for mint.

And Then Missy discovered tomatoes. Which is hokay, too, but you gotta bemember that Whut Goes In Wun End obba Bunny, comes out, Wun Way or An'udder frumma Udder End obba Bunny! Which means that MissyBun managed to accidentally pass a few Santa Grape Tomato Seeds frum Wun End ob her to Our Pootie pan and frum there, Dadda took the pootie-pan and dumped it onna Gardin.

Well, a tomato vine took over the Whole Belinda and Hawthorn Memorial Corner obba Memorial Herb and Rose Gardin!

We're talking Wun Seed, and Nine Feets of vine heer.

That's a lotta liddle tomatoes.

So ennyways, Dadda sent Phil off to the grocery store to buy a box of tomatoes. So now EVERY NIGHT, don't you know, that we getting WUN STINKING Tomato in with Our Romaine Cups!

And I HATE tomatoes!

Yeah.

I mean, I have been heaving them off to the back obba habbytat for aboutta'week now and they are STILL coming. Lastest night, Dadda even apologised to me.

He said, "I'm sorry about this, George." as he put Our Salad down for Missy and me.

And sure enough, a big, fat tomato rolled offa Romaine Leaf and stopped Right In Frunt Of Me. So I flicked it with my nose, and it rolled sorta uppa couplela strands of hay and came right back at me.

So I, like, looked up at Dadda and he looked at me, reached down and flicked the tomato off towards Missy. And he said, "I know you don't like them, but I need Bug-A-Lugs there to start a few seeds in your pootie box. Everybun has to Werk For a Living around here."

And I'm finking, "Lookit, I do my Cute. I sit with Maman. I do alla Top-Bunning. What More Do You Want?"

And Dadda said, "I need Missy to start sum seeds."

And Missy like, sat there, looking atta tomato with that kinda fixed stare that she gets, and then she looked up at Dadda and you could see the "Whaaa!" Look just getting started on her face.

And Dadda said, "Yes, you, Missus. Everybun has to werk around here. And Whut I Need YOU to do is to eat. Which frumma size of you, you seem to do pretty reguarly ennyway, so it won't be A Problem."

So Missy glared and shoved the tomato with her nose back towards me.

And I shoved it back to her - because if there's Wun Fing I HATE, it's tomatoes!

Anna tomato rolled to a stop nestest to Missy.

And Missy was, like, "I don't want it."

And Dadda was like, "Lookit, Miss-Miss you LOVED tomatoes last year! You couldn't cram enough of them innu your gob. Whut's the matter with this wun?"

And he reached innu Our Habbytat and flicked the tomato unner Missy's chin.

And Missy was, like, "That was last year, buster."

So Dadda glared and went off to bother Mr Mouse, who didn't want enny parts of enny tomatoes, even though Dadda was trying to be Pursusasive about them.

Furst Mouse grunted. Then he boxed. Then he lunged and *rilly* grunted a lot and ran around inna circle and climbed up innu his pootie box and sat there, grumbling away to himself - which is a sure sign that Sumbunny is gonna get hurt if they keep shoving tomatoes innu his face.

So Dadda went over to Dusty.

Well, Dusty had been running back-and-forth yelling, "PetTheBunny! PetTheBunny! PetTheBunny!" ever since Dadda had mooved over to try and give a tomato to Mouse.

So Dadda dropped a Grape Tomato innu Dusty's Pellet Crock and said,

"In your bowl, Dusty!"

Which issa same fing that Maman tells Dusty when she drops a Baby Organic Carrot or sum udder Treat for him. She calls this "training" but Whut It *Rilly* Is, is that Dusty won't eat ennyfing unless he accidentally "finds" it in his bowl. He's actually a very neat little bunny-boy that way. Like all miniLops, he adores Food and Treats, but he's so helpless that his Hoomins have to be trained to put them where he can get them easily, onna'count obba Fakt, he can't see past his nose to find a Fing.

I never said Dusty was "Smart" - just neat, as in "tidy". In most udder respects, he couldn't find his backside wif both paws anna roadmap.

So Dusty went over and hadda look innu his crock and then looked at Dadda and he was like, "Whut?"

And Dadda said, "There's a tomato, Dusty!" Like it was sumfing good.

And Dusty was still, like, "Huh?"

So Dadda said, "In your bowl. A tomato!"

And Dusty was, like, "PetTheBunny?"

And Dadda said, "Eat it, you stoopit Rabbit."

And Dusty blinked, looked in his crock atta tomato and then looked up at Dadda and was like, "PetTheBunny?"

And Dadda was, like, "NO Pet-the-bunny! Eat-the-tomato!"

And Dusty was like, "Pet-the-bunny!"

And Dadda started yelling, "Eat-the-tomato!"

While Dusty was running back-and-forth and yelling, "Pet-the-bunny! PetTheBunny!"

So you know where *that* ended up...

And Foxie, who is such a little suck-up, of course, she ate a Whole Tomato.

So Missy finally ate the wun, stinking tomato that was in Our Habbytat, just to get it out of there.

And now, we're getting Wun Grape Tomato with Every Salad, like it's Sum Big Deal, and suddinly, Dadda is grabbing Our Pooty-boxes right out frum unner our butts and running them Out Innu the Back Gardin, almost bifore we're done with them, if you know Whut I Mean.

So you know where *that* is going, too - Which all means that Spring is pretty well Sprung heer at Our Warren.

But there still are very few birdies awake inna mornings. No "Morning Chorus" and no "Morning Caw" to wake Alla Us Togedder just bifre Dawn.

And I just read a noospaper artykul inna Daily Telegraph Online that there are 20% fewer Gardin songbirdies inna UK this season. You can read it, too, by clicking here.

So I don't know Whut's Going On, but I can tell you that Whutebber It is, It's Going On...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:51 PM EDT

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Hokay, well, that's anudder Holly Day outta the way...

It's not that We heer at Our Warren don't like Holly Days - We do! - it's just that Maman has a real Talent for Messing Fings Up. She has alla these Plans In Her Head about Whut Is Supposed to Happin, and then Sumfing Else Happins, so that Whut She Planned, Doesn't Werk Out.

She used to get upset over it, but now she just accepts that if she plans it, it's gonna get screwed up.

Easter was a Prime Hextample of This Fing In Action.

Furst of all, she didn't tell ennyBunny, 'cept Alla Us Togedder whut she was finking. Then, Three Days Bifore Good Friday, while she was folding laundry, she said,

"When I was a Girl (Now, I thought Maman was still a Gurl, like MissyBun is still a Gurl, but whutever!) When I wassa Gurl, we usta go to my Granny's in Western Pennsylvania, and visit Bim's Family. There was Granny - who was blind - and Granddaddy - who was a Presbyterian minister - and Bim's Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Wray, and Uncle Grant and Numerous Other, Supporting Cast. Easter was a huge production of Church Services lead by Granddaddy, hymns, organs, flowers, and I remember always beging dragged off before-hand to Philadelphia to buy a new dress, new hat, coat, gloves, mary-jane shoes and socks with lace on them.

"And then there was the all-day drive along the Pennsylvania Turnpike - with tunnels - and Bim and your Mom-mom would always, invariably get into an argument over Bim's driving and Mom-mom's back-seat driving, Bim would get a migraine and we would arrive at Granny and Granddaddy's with Bim having to have a lie-down because he was so frustrated and upset.

"This was because no one could drive for more than five miles in the car with your Mom-mom without wanting to strangle her - as was demonstrated by Your Sistah Beffy when she was only about a year old, and strapped into the back-seat, and could barely talk, and she was amusing herself by talking to her Beary-bear, saying, 'No, Bill. Use your turn-signal, Bill. Stop, Bill. Slow down, Bill." Which everyone thought was hilarious - except Your Mom-mom, because even at a year-old, your Sistah Beffy could mimic Your Mom-mom perfectly.

"Ennyway, once we got out to Western Pennsylvania, Granny would have me learn to set the silver on the table with Annie Hamilton who was the Housekeeper, and I would get to carry the small silver tray with crackers on it behind Annie when she served 'Cocktails' - which were really glasses of cranberry juice - before dinner, and I would get to dye Easter Eggs, and cut fresh beans with Uncle Wray, and clean the guns with Uncle Grant. And Granddaddy's Sister, Aunt Hazel taught me how to do 'tatting' in the kitchen while the ham baked, and Aunt Rebecca taught me how to bake corn pudding.

"And I would get up very early in the morning and go with Granddaddy for a quart of milk. Actually, he was getting up to make his pastoral calls. He was a retired minister, but he was always 'Helping Out' one of the other clergymen in the town, calling on members of their parishes, making sure this or that family had heating, or food, or whatever it was that they needed, and I followed him around like a small assistant, and he would talk to me as we walked from house to house, about what each family needed. And sometimes, what each family 'needed' was quite different from what he provided.

"I got to see inside of poor miners' houses, and got to see children who stared at me like I'd come from another planet, And I stared back at them, because I couldn't imagine anyone being 'allowed' to go barefoot in the cold Spring. I didn't realise it was because they were saving their shoes for school and church by not wearing them inside the house, until Granddaddy told me. I had always thought of being without shoes on as a sort of happy consequence of Summer. It didn't happen in the Spring because I'd always been told, 'You'll catch your death.'. And I didn't understand socks that were knitted and didn't come from Wannamakers or Nevius-Voorhees, or at least from a five-and-ten, like Willet's or Woolworth's. The concept of 'rag-socks' was beyond me.

"And I'd never really seen a Crucifix up close, either, and many of these people were Roman Catholic who belonged to the big granite Church that I could see from Granddaddy's study. They had these somewhat greusome-looking Crucifixes tacked over doorways and on inside walls of rooms, and they had garishly painted statues of a woman with what looked like a blue hood covering her head. And I found these frightening, because my Mother (Your Mom-mom) told me that 'Roman Catholics' worshipped these statues and thought they should be prayed to, when anyone in their right mind knew that statues couldn't help anyone, and Jesus lived in Heaven with God.

"So my Granddaddy helped me to understand that statues and pictures of the Virgin and the Saints existed to instruct and remind us to live better lives, and to help us all to remember when to pray, and helped to provide examples of how to live better lives. He took me to the pale, granite Church that we could see from his Study window and the priest there, who was a friend of Granddaddy's, taught me about Saint Francis of Assisi, and I saw his statue for the first time. And not only did this statue have the obligatory birds sitting on St. Francis' hand, but there was a small bunny sitting, listening to him, at his feet.

"And that is where I first began to understand that the world, as it is, is not created exclusively around the concept of Hoomins, and that God, The Father, has created something much greater, in which Hoomins play only a part.

"Granddaddy used to tell people in his sermons that if you wanted to see how people should look at God, you had only to look at how a dog looked up at them. That was a reflection of the Look We Should Cast Toward Heaven. And Granddaddy was very fond of dogs - it was just that Granny and Annie Hamilton 'didn't hold with having them inside the house' if there was a kennel on the property.

"And Grant and Wray didn't 'hold with' teaching 'The Girl' - that would be me - how to hunt, either, so I was taught that a gun was never to be aimed at a living being. They took me out to The Farm we owned and taught me to target shoot and to trap shoot, which Granny declared 'A Lady' had to learn, even if my mother thought it put 'Ideas Above My Station' into my head.

"I didn't know it then, but there was a female power-struggle going on over my education, with Granny and Annie Hamilton firmly in the camp that was going to raise me as a 'Proper Lady' and my Mother, who was just as firmly dedicated to the idea of raising me as the 'All-American Girl'.

What my mother - your Mom-mom - didn't know was that her sister and mother were traitors who were in Bim's Mother - that would be Granny's - camp and had opted for the 'Proper Lady' education for me, too. So my mother was out-numbered and out-gunned, did she but know it, and most of the money and resources were being poured in the direction of me being given riding lessons, music lessons, dancing lessons, tennis lessons, Spanish lessons, and singing lessons while my Granddaddy was quietly instructing me in Theology behind the scenes.

"Actually, it was a wonder that I escaped from them alive, I suppose."

Well, I didn't say ennyfing, but I pretty much agreed with her On That Wun.

So MissyBun was rummaging around in the hay-pile she had managed to shove togedder in Our Habbytat, and she stuck her nose out to axt Maman, "So Whut Are We gonna do for Easter?"

And Maman was like, "Well, what I want to do is to have a ham, and have Phil come over. I'd *like* to have Anja come over and we could dye Easter eggs, and I would have liked to buy to her an Easter dress, and a hat, and take her to Church - and the poor child should be Christened, too. Roman Catholic or Anglican, it doesn't matter, but she needs to be christened and I know that she hasn't been. But she needs to be brought up in some faith so that she will have a basis from which to choose someday, and no one can choose from a point of ignorance."

And Maman looked off, out of Our Warren's Memorial Window, but she wasn't seeing Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Herb & Rose Gardin outside, she was seeing somefing inside. And she said,

"I know that I'll be accused of wanting the child's christening for social reasons, and that's not fair. It's not the party that matters, it is the Baptism, itself. It is that Anja be brought into the Communion. That is the responsibility of childbearing: that you will teach. Children are a trust, given into our care only for so long. Her mother was told this over and over, yet she chooses to assign her own motives to my choices. It's not the party, George, it is the Act, itself, that is of value. The party plays no part in the Larger Life. But everyone has listened to her lies and none of the truth, even when it was told to them. 'A lie can go around the world seven times before the truth even gets it's boots on.' If offered the choice, why believe evil in place of good?."

Then Maman set the pile of towels she had been folding down on Our Habitat. And Missy looked up at them and was grumpy that Maman had set them there, but she didn't stand up and try to pull any of the corners down innu our space or chew any holes or anyfing onna'count obba Fakt Maman was still there, folding more stuff, and prob'ly Keeping An Eye On Us.

"So Whut I Would *Like* To Do For Easter is also to find a hat to go with the Periwinkle-blue dress, too, because I don't think either of the straw hats are proper for March, but I think the feather one I have Uppystairs will do, if not the Felt Fedora. And I want to catch at least part of the Holy Vigil on Saturday. Then go to High Mass on Easter Sunday Morning, have the ham for Easter Sunday dinner and I think there will be cabbage, potato, corn and carrots..."

Well, of course, none of *that* happined. Onna'count obba Fakt Thursday night Maman told Dadda that "Everything hurt" and she didn't look too good. By Good Friday, she was going frumma Foo-ton Uppystairs, to the Sofa inna Sitting Room, to the bed inna Bed Room, anna Dawg said she was Bummping Innu Da Walls, so he was following her everywheres. By Holy Saturday, she was careening offa doors to da BafRoom, and Dadda was pretty much steering her where-ever she went.

And that's when she said to Dadda, "You think mebbe I gotta FLU?"

And Missy turned to me and was, like, "Uh oh!"

So Easter Sunday turned up anna Dawg came in frumma OnPatrol inna Back Gardin and he said it was C-O-L-D outside, as well as looking a Lot Like Dark. So he and Maman felt their way Uppystairs and I heard Maman whispering to the Catz, so I guess they're still up there in their 'Partmint, onna'count obba Fakt that she didn't take Missy-and-Me. She 'pologised to Alla Us Togedder later, about Eight O'Clock Inna Morning when she came downnstairs and said,

"I'm sorry Bunnies, I fortygot Whut Time It Was because it feels like my head is underwater. You want your Baby Organic Carrots?"

Yeah, like we're gonna turn down Treats. That'll happin!

So, of course, Mr Mouse was the Furst Wun to stand up and say he'd have a Baby Organic Carrot, Thank You! and then Foxie stood up, and Dusty started running himself around in circles, yelling, "PetTheBunny! PetTheBunny!" as loud as he could, and buzzing. That boy *rilly* puts a lotta effort innu his Cute, lemme tell you!

So we all had Baby Organic Carrots, and a helping of Shelled Unsalted Sunflower Seeds onna'count obba Fakt that it was Easter Sunday Morning. And we hadda Prayer with Maman, Alla Us Togedder, while the houz was all Quiet and at Peace - just Us anna Dawg and Maman togedder inna BunRoom. And there were no Eggs, and No Candy, and no Baskits, and no Hats or Flowers or ennyfing, and I know that Maman felt sad and guilty onna'count obba Fakt she was still sik.

Because she said to me, "You know, George. Here I am, left in charge of alla this and I still can't get it right. No matter Whut I Do. I keep trying to trace back the source of Where It All Came Unravelled, so I can put things right - and I can't. Maybe I never will. But until I can, I have a feeling that we can't go forward. It's like, 'Fix the Fundamental, and the rest will fall into line.' - except I can't get to what's really wrong to fix it. But I have to, or we're not going to have a proper Easter or a proper Christmas, ever again. Or maybe it's just that This Is Where the Particular Thread in The Story stops - but I don't believe that, either. So..."

And she went back Uppystairs, with Da Dawg, who hasn't got a Kloo, (and couldn't get Wun, even if he was being paid to look for it!), following on behind her.

And that pretty much Whut Was Our Easter, this year. Trust me, if I could put it all innu context, I would, lemme tell you, but so far, its just Wun Ob Those Fings...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:11 AM EDT

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Whoa. Pollyticians put themselves out inna Court ob Public Opinion and axt udder hoomins to be The Judge of them - and then complain loud and long that they are being judged. So that strikes me as weird. I mean, why axt for sumfing and then reject it when it happins?

Verges onna "Stoopit" if you axt me.

So I am more or less choosing to ignore the Whole Political Mess, except to say this: HouzBunnies are more faithful Companions than sum obba Gubbernors and Township Council Members that I have heard bleating inna noospapers! I mean, *rilly*!

MissyBun and I have been bonded for five years and never been in anudder bunny's habbytat. Beebe-Bunny would have torn ennybunny apart who messed with his CloverBun (And sharing a pootie box togedder is about as close as you can get wif sumbunny!)! Maggie and Hunny were bonded for sumfing like eight years, which is like a lifetime in BunYears. Makes you wunder about pollyticians, lemme tell you! 

And hoomins say stoopit stuff like, "Breed like rabbits" - well, at least bunnies have lifetime bondmates, which is more than can be said for Spitzers or McGreedys. (And if McGreedy is gonna be an Anglican priest and lead udders inna unnerstanding of Christ's Sacrifice for Hoominkind, howcome he isn't concentrating onna Easter Message just now, instead of bragging about his sex-life, which is so not-important inna context of Christian faith and practice? You have to wonder about the whole "mill-stone around the neck" fing right about now, lemme tell you.)

Ennyways, none of that matters because pollyticians are like buses - miss wun and there's anudder wun coming downna'road. You can't get rid of them wif sticks...

Maman says that it has been ages since she voted *FOR* sumwun and not just *AGAINST* whomever was running. She says that issa sad indykayshun obba lack ob Quality In Candydates.

Whutever.

At least we gotta good Mayor, she says, who will probably do sumfing good for the Animals In Ewing if the Stoopit Township Council will obey the Law and let him speak atta Township Council Meetings. I fink the Council *should* do sumfing good for Animals, seeing as how they haven't done ennyfing good before. They had a chance, Maman said, when she took them bunny food, sum habbytats, and supplies, but that didn't go very far onna'count obba Fakt that nobunny there was very concerned about the Lost Abandoned Rabbits.

If you haven't haven't got a Voice, you are OnAlone.

So I am taking this last oppertunity bifore Easter to bemind EVERYBUNNY about MakeMineChocolate.org - PLEASE! Make SURE that the ONLY bunnies you buy for Easter are CHOCOLATE! Click on the button or click here for more information!

Thanks.

I mean that.

I know lotsa hoomins are tired of hearing me talk about it, but it's Important To Me. And like Belinda Bunny said when she started this The Hay Diaries Blog: "These are MY Observations and 'Pinions. If you don't like them, get sum ob your own." I'm not quite as blunt as Belinda. She hadda English Spot way of putting fings that is sorta not the same as me, but the Idea behind the Werds kinda matches.

I mean, lootkit, if you were a babby and sumbunny took you frum your Furst Home, and stuck you inna cardboard box and left you inna V-E-T's office - just LEFT YOU THERE! - closed up inna cardboard box without a blankie or drink of wadder or *nothing* - and the V-E-T didn't have a place for you AT ALL and there was no *home* for you to go to, unless some Stranger-Lady rushed over frum her houz to come get you...

Well, wouldn't YOU want to MAKE SURE that the SAME SORTA FING NEVER happened to ENNY UDDER LITTLE BABY BUNNIES EVER AGAIN?

I mean, *rilly*.

So, you see, that's why I'm so insistent about MakeMineChocolate.org at Easter - because buying a baby bunny for a child at Easter is wrong.

Inna Furst place, if you are celebrating Easter, you are a Christian - because, say what you will, Easter is a Christian celebration (even though the name has pagan origins). If you are not a Christian, then you are celebrating sumfing else. So since you must be Christian, at least nominally, it is assumed that you have sum kinda baseline unnerstanding of Whut Easter is About - which would be Jesus and His Teachings.

And most of Jesus' Teaching had to do with God - the same God that is talked about by Jews and Moslems, by the way - and His Creation. Jesus said that the Earth doesn't belong to hoomins. They didn't create it, so it's not theirs. That's pretty basic. Hoomins didn't create the Earth, but they live here, along with Everybunny else that SumBunny Else, namely God, created.

So Hoomins are Stewards. Being a steward means being "in charge" of Sumbunny's Else's property - and being a Steward means having to give an accounting to that SumBunny eventually about *how* the property was managed. So, did the Stewards take good care of the SumBunny's udder creations onna planet? Or did the Stewards just buy sum of the udder creations - namely the bunnyrabbits - that the SumBunny Else had created and treat them like they were plush toys filled with polyester fibre and not living creatures?

You see, buying a living creature in place of a fluffy toy to be discarded later on is against Christian teaching. That's the bottom line. If you say you are a Christian, then you follow the teachings of Jesus (that's pretty basic) and you would never, ever buy a bunny for Easter and then abandon it, or thow it away, or put it in a cardboard box and left at a V-E-T's when you got tired of having it!

You would ONLY bring in a bunny as a Companion Animal to share your life for the next eight ot ten years, like Our Cousin Casper of BunnyHaven inna picture. You, as a Christian, would make a commitment to live WITH a Companion Animal for the space of your natural lives. If you want a bunny, it would not be "for Easter" - it would be "Forever".

So that's why I have dedicated the month of March to MakeMineChocolate. I know it bothers sum of you to read about whut you alreddy know. And I am sorry that I say so much about it - but I don't want there to be so many udder Sad Bunny Stories afta Easter. My Story had a Happy Ending - Maman came and rescued me. It almost didn't happin, because Our Warren was full to the rafters with rescued bunnies, and three of those bunnies were Very Senior Bunnies who had health issues.

There was no room for me when I furst arrived. Maman and Dadda had to keep me inna Hospiddle Cage for a week, and I hadda go to see Dr Sharin to make sure that I was hokay to live with udder bunnies, and when Maman brought me a Romaine Cup, I was preddy sure that she was trying to poison me, onna'count obba Fakt that I had never seen Greens before! In Fakt, if Hunny and Belinda hadn't told me that there were Treats Involved, I never would have tried 'nanners or appuls or enny kinds of froot at all!

And all I *rilly* wanted was for Maman to sit with me and Pet My Head, onna'count obba Fakt that I had no mawmie and I was skert. That's Whut Easter Had done For Me.

And that is NOT Whut Easter Is Alla'bout. Easter should not be about being afraid, or being skert, or being OnAlone. It issa Time Of Year that Christians, and Anglicans in particular, are taught that we are Wun Big Warren, and that we are NOT OnAlone, and that we are Alla Us Togedder. Nobunny should be left out, or be unloved, or be tossed aside.

At Eastertime, everybun is welcome, and everybun is beloved; miracles happen at Easter.

So, please, bemember the bunnies.

The pollyticians, the noisemakers and the fools will always be among you, but so will we. Being quiet and faithful, we will always be here, like Our Cousin, Norman in SoCal (who owns HareWEAR - "Support shelter bunnies, buy HareWEAR!"). He sent us this pikchur of him dressed up in his Easter Costume. Do not fortyget that bunnies are among you, not as *things* but as creations, as you are - and we will be here, always looking up, always hopeful, always believing that, if not today, then tomorrow...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 2:09 PM EDT

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Ohhhhhhhhh...

...I...

...Amma...

...Itty-bitty, teeny-tiny, whittle-bitsy, teensy-wheensy, smallest-bunny-you-imagine - like-a-hamster, only bigger! - RILLY little, justa BABBY, eensy-weensy Unoffical Teacup English Spotted Rabbit!

I am Foxie-Princess-Chick, Smallest Bunny in Our Warren!

This morning, Maman opined my Habbytat and I skittered uppa ramp and clambered out into her Bafrobe pockit!

Yes I did.

And I nestled down all nice-as-you-please, and stuck my head out (with just my ears showing like the tips obba hankie) - and we went along innu the Sitting Room to sit. While Maman hadda Fink. While Mostly Maman hadda Fink and I digged around inside her pockit for sumfing to chew.

So *that* didn't werk out - Maman said that it is inpossybul to *fink* with a Rabbit (even a small one!) diggin' around in her pockit.

Personally, I dunno why - onna'count obba Fakt (like George says) no pockits are hooked up to her brain...

...but that's Whut She Said.

So we went Uppystairs and Maman kicked the Catz outta her Study and closed the door in Cokie's face so I could sit onna Foo-ton and have it To MySelf. As I should.

Maman says I am the size obba Large Rat-Wifout-A-Tail, and *SHOULD COME* with a SIGN that says: "NO CATZ" onnit onna'count obba Fakt catz (in general) take waaaay too much obba innerest in me onna'count obba Fakt I am tiny - like prey, in fakt.

So she hadda kick the Catz outta her Study and Close The Door in Cokie's face and all and 'Fishully Upset the Big, Black Cokie-Cat who *finks* he owns everyfing, inklooding the Foo-ton.

So Cokie went off innu Dadda's Office, laid down unner'neaf obba Big Dadda Desk and hadda *hork* to show just how 'Fishully Upset he rilly was. And Dadda said to Cokie, he hoped he would cough uppa gold watch, onna'count obba Fakt if he coughed uppa brown ring, he should swallow, quick! And Cokie just glared, all 'Fishully 'Fended and everyfing.

Because of me!

Because I am Smaller-than-I've-enny-Right-to-be-and-still-be-a-bunny.

And Maman said That Is THE POINT.

Uh huh.

The Whole Point!

The Whole Awful Spreading Point that makes Make Mine Chocolate necessary!

Itty-bitty, teen-tiny bunnies that won't grow Enny Bigger Thanna HairBrush.

Uh huh.

Because it's Easter, the biggest Bunny Nightmare of All!

And that should not be. Easter is not a time for Nightmares, but a time for Celebration, Liberation and Salvation - those things that stand in direct opposition to the darkness of Greed and Selfishness that are the hallmarks of evil. Easter is about Redemption, not slavery; about Life, not a living death. That anyone should turn the greatest celebration of Mercy into a reign of terror and misery over the innocent seems to her to offend Heaven, itself.

And yet, it is allowed.

You see, Bad People said: *We Will Make Munny on Easter!" (Yes they did, and you know they did, because I am living proof that they did!) 

Bad People said: "We will make munny by Selling Little Tiny Living Bunnies to Children at Easter Time!" (Because Cute Little Bunnies have been associated with Easter since before Time Began! And little children love little bunnies with their soft, cuddly fur, and sweet, trusting eyes!)

And Bad People said: "The whole Trubble With Baby Bunnies is that they grow up innu Big Bunnies and then people don't want them. So Whut If - Whut If - Uh huh -  Baby Bunnies Stayed SMALL, and Cute, and ALLUS LOOKED LIKE CUDDLY TOYS!"

Uh huh!

So Bad Peoples called up Udder Bad Peoples and they mated small Netherland Dwaf Bunnies with Udder Bunnies until they had Smaller Udder Bunnies in 'Tractive Colours with 'Tractive Markings.

Uh huh.

And then they bred these Smaller Udder Bunnies BACK to get Even Smaller Bunnies !

LOTS of Teeny, Tiny, Itty-bitty, Very Cute, LIVING BUNNIES that looked like Tiny Toys!

LOTS and LOTS of teeny-tiny, very little fluffy BUNNIES to put in pet-shop windows and sell to ennybunny who walked past!

And OH LOOK! LOOK! LOOK! LOTS-and-LOTS-and-LOTS of poor, innocent, sad and lost, little bunny-souls taken away from their mawmies' sides, huddled and afraid, seeking shelter together from the unknown terrors of the outside world!

And, oh, it was awful! Because Bunnies are not *easy* pets. They need Responsible Families to Live With, and Responsible Owners to bring them water, and proper food, and to keep their living arrangements clean, and to give them playtime and to understand that Living With An Urban HouseRabbit takes thought and Kindness and Caring and LOVE and Commitment!

But Bad People thought only about The Munny.

The Munny they could get for creating - and selling - these Little Tiny, itty-bitty, teeny-weenie, allus-cute, forever-small BunnyRabbits that could fit innu a pocket, no-bigger-than-your-hand or a good-sized-Gimmie-Pig...these little, tiny "teacup" bunnies, Like me, Little Foxie-chick.

And Maman said, "This is morally unacceptable."

Because baby-bunnies grow into Adult Rabbits, and To what you have tamed, you owe an Obligation of Care. Maman is most def'nit about that.

Because even The Cokie-Cat who is sitting unner'neaf obba bookcase now - and *horking* - in Dadda's Office, feeling 'Fishully 'Fended and Sulking, is axtcually being Cared For. Even while he's *horking* and feeling 'Fended and Sulking. He has His Wadder, and His Food and His Litter-box, and he has a sunbeam to lie in, and he has a Choice of Chairs in which to sit - he's just Sulkin' (uh huh) onna'count obba Fakt that he's been told to temp'rarily leave Wun Room inna Whole House,  so I can Have A Turn being in there. Cokie is still Getting Cared For, just not the way he *finks* is Totally Fair.

But Whut Is Unfair, said Maman, is Hoomins Exploiting Nature for Financial Gain Through Cruelty. And she says breeding Itty-Bitty, Teeny-Tiny, Itsy-Bitsy Teacup-Sized BunnyRabbits to sell as toys at Eastertime is Unethical and Amoral.

Uh huh.

Because we are too teeny-tiny to live without help. We need Speshul Veterinarians to help keep us well. We need a careful diet. We need Companions to unnerstand that we have teeny-tiny, very little mouths with extra-tiny toofies and itty-bitty ears to be looked down, to be kept clean. We are prey to alla Big-Bunny diseases. We need Frequent, little meals and almost constant little sips of water. We have to be watched carefully because we can fit through the smallest of cracks, and we can scamper like the wind! Bunny-proofing our rooms issa challenge! We can't be around Catz onna'count obba Fakt we look like prey and we make Dawgs nervous. We are too fragile for children and too quick for most adults.

We are not pets. We agree to be Companions. But only just.

But Bad People thought LIttle-Bitty, Teeny-Tiny Bunny-Rabbits would be a good source of Munny at Eastertime, so they have Perverted Nature and Perverted a day that is Sacred and so Bad People have engineered Us for their Own Cruel, Selfish Ends.

So I was bought assa Toy - but I am NOT A TOY!

I Am A Bunny!

I hop-binky-sliiiiiiiiiiiide-hop-turn! Iunaroundanna'roundanna'roundanna'roundandstop!

I pose for pets and mug for treats. I nip if you're slow and dive innu pockits to look for stuff myself. I am quick-like-a-bunny!

And I *could* sit in Wun of Maman's Antique Teacups and let her take my pikchur with her "camera" if I wanted to, but I don't want to, so I won't. Because I habba English Spot "butterfly" on my nose and English Spot spots running down my back inna "broken line" anna English Spot bunna'tude fumma tips of my teeny-tiny toes toda tips of my itsey-bitsy pointed ears, and I will nip - hard! - with sharp itty-bitty needle-teef and scratch - hard! - with sharp, teeny-weenie needle-claws if you bother or alarm me sufficently.

I am a Companion Rabbit for the Rabbit-Experienced Only.

I am NOT a TOY for CHILDREN!

I am a Companion to Share Life!

So BUY Chocolate for Easter - NOT Bunnies. And if you simply gotta, hafta, no-compromises-MUST have a bunny-for-Easter... then Make Mine Chocolate! Because candy lasts for a day, but a Bunny is a Lifetime Companion. Chocolate is an addiction; HouzRabbits are a commitment.

Uh huh.

Please help stop Bad People. Go here or click onna banner to see how you can help!  

----------------------------------------- By Foxie-Chick (another Rescued Easter Bunny)

Posted by Our Warren at 12:02 PM EDT

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In the Old Style of the reckoning of days, today would be the day normally marked as the day of the Death of the Russian composer, Modeste Petrovich Mussorgsky.

I am mentioning this because Modeste Petrovich is special to Maman, and in honour of him we are listening to music this morning. Maman has found some music written by someone named Hans Zimmer that is very hextciting and it's to his music that We Are Listening just now.

Specifically, We Are Listening to something called "THE ROCK - Navy Seals Theme (1)" and it is like that Michael Bay commercial onna television for Verizon - "Awesome!" (You can hear what sounds like Mr Zimmer's music in the background of the commercial, too!). Mr Zimmer has all kinds of awards - Oscars, Golden Globes, Grammys - every award ofwhich you can fink, so it's not just us that like the stuff he writes.

Mr Zimmer's music is full, and sweeping and it gives a bunny a sense of Being Onna'Venture just going around a room! Missy said it's great to listen to as she goes around the edges of a room onna'count obba Fakt that it makes her feel like Danger-Bun - sneaking up onna Catz, like an Intrepid Cat-Stalker (Like Our Cousin in Oz, Indigo), and patrolling the room against threats, like a real, live N.C.I.S. agent or sumfing.

Mr Mouse said that listening to Mr Zimmer's music makes him feel like he is a REAL ADA walking downna'real marble hallway to the biggest court-case of his life with his Legal Bun-Team right behind him, and there's no way he can lose! He's gonna put away an Animal abuser for Life in prison, and no-bun can stop him! 

And Foxie Princess Bunny says that hearing Mr Zimmer's music makes her feel like a real Princess out to save her Nation from Bad Guys, like she is running acrosst a field with the Bad Guys right behind her, and she is leading them right innu a Trap fulla sharp-toofied bunny-commandos and bun-ninjas! Yeah! And just as she scampers over the high grass atta top obba hill, here comes the Hare Force, making a low strafing run in those F-22's that Phil talks about, with their guns blazing and bombs going off everywheres - and little Foxie imagines she is scampering through all the smokes and stuff, leading the Bunny-Commandos to defeat the Animal abusers!

And all the abusers that she takes prisoner, she hands back over to Mr Mouse to parade through the Court House and Put Onna Stand where they have to 'splain themselves to a Jury of Their Peers - all angry bunnies, kitties and dawgs who have been hurt by cruel people.

And Dusty said that listening to Mr Zimmer's music makes him feel like he could be part of Missy's Urban Detective Team, freeing dawgs that are caught up in Fight Rings, and liberating poor birdies that are chained up in backyards all over with no-bun to help them. He said that he and Missy would employ good detecting methods, mostly using the computer, to hunt down the bad, abusing people, and be Animal Cops, opening cages, and saving lives.

And he hopes that Mr Zimmer might someday write musics about him and Missy and Mouse and Princess Foxie, and maybe even about Auntie Michelle and Judge Rudy, too - and show whut it is like to have Animal Heroes in Akshun, hunting down Evil Hoomins and Prosecuting Them in Heroic Buildings.

Yeah.

Because there are not enuf Good Hoomins to go around. It is time for Animals to do Whut We Can. "Watership Down" was a story of mere survival and eco-responsibility, wasn't it? It wasn't a story of Whut We Can Do when we are faced with a cause like Good against Evil - and anyone who believes for a sekond that there is no Evil is an idiot.

Now I know there are a lot of post-modern pseudo-intellectuals who are preaching atheism and the impersonality of Evil as though it was some New Evangelism, with the same fervour as the old Tent-Revivalists (and with their same lack of finesse and logic!) and who are trying to blame five hunnert years of history on whut they want to call "religion". And they are sad, desperate, little people terrified of the load logic demands they bear, to reform their damaged universe - because if there is no Superior Being, then it is up to them, and to them, alone, to save the world - a task they reject.

They are trying to make ennybunny who is a theist feel silly and ashamed, and they do it by using arch language and pseudo-intellectual posturing. What they fail to realise (that even a bunny knows!) is that their arguments are rilly old and have been disproven previously. In fact, their arguments are SO old, that they are not worth refuting here! Better authors than I have demolished them, so I won't take the time or the trouble. But the secular humanists argue on very thin ice, lemme tell you!

There is Evil! And it is visible, and becoming more so every day as hoomins permit it to slip comfortably into their daily lives. When cruelty becomes casual and acceptable, something to be slipped on and off like a dress or a coat, then there it is a problem. 

Here is Whut I Mean: A Serial Murderer is a muderer: someone who takes away someone ele's life, a breaker of the Commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." and a breaker of that social contract that is known to every Hoomin society. Murderers are never "Good" or "Heroic" or "Ethical" people, yet here issa television show where one is a Hero.

Yes, he is sad he issa killer. He admits that he is not ethical. He makes excuses  for being a taker-of-life. But he doesn't Do Whut Is Right. He doesn't turn himself in to the Police, and suffer punishment for his crimes against society - he strives to not get caught.

And Whut He Does is given acceptence onna-count obba Fakt that he "only kills udder killers". How does this make it right? Killing is still killing, and no one, under the current system of law, has a right to act as another hoomin's executioner. But the amorality of the television show doesn't seem to bother enny hoomins - the show has received critical acclaim (oh, yes, the actors are good!). In fact, everything about the show is good - so the premise can be hextcused! Except that the premise - on its own - is vile!

Well, well, the Elephant Is In The Room! But no hoomin dares to name it for fear of looking conservative or reactionary. *Progressive* people accept the inevitible advance of violence, and evil without protest. It is very unfashionable to dislike ennyfing hextcept smoking, body fat, and fast food. Sexual perversion, poor taste, and designer drugs are all hokay - as it is hokay to accept a murderer, even while he does not choose to do what is right (turn himself into the police.). Evil can only beget more evil. The only way to go is *Down*.

So this is where bunnies and the udder animals come in. We did not take part in Adam's Fall. We were not Exiled Frum Eden, nor did we ever suffer seperation from the Love of God. We did not choose to abandon Him. You'll notice, if you dare to go back and read the stories told by the Ancient Jews in the Hebrew Texts (Septuagint) and in the Christian Old Testament that Evil chose to *appear* as a snake when it came to speak to the First Woman. The Animals did not take part in the Fall of Hoominkind.

When Hoomins chose to disobey God, by their own Free Will, they got themselves tossed out of Eden.

And the Bible is the story of Hoominkind. It is NOT the story of the Animals or Whut Happined to Us, except as we touched upon hoomins! (So don't go barking up *that* tree, either, hokay? The Bible isn't about *us*, which is why animals don't get a Whole Lotta Mention)!

But you know whut is implied? That we chose to came with the Hoomins out of the Gardin.

We, who had never done Whut Was Wrong - we chose to come with you, as Helpers and Companions and as Guides. You became Stewards, to care for us until our Master should Return.

Animals agreed to share this planet with Hoomins, to help you get along - because without us, you would perish!

Now how about that assa Noo Idea?

So we share everything - including the music that we hear. And when we hear somefing that is good, we tell you about it - Whut We Hear and Whut We See in the Music so that you can listen to it, too, and perhaps see the dreams that we can see.

Because This Is Whut Music Is - the sounds of dreams alive inna air. If you close your eyes when you hear music, you will see dreams come alive in ways that are impossible without music. Everyfing will be there right behind your eyelids in colour, like the most vivid dream in the depths of the night - and you can remember the dreams that you see in music, unlike dreams in the night. Dreams in music are alive and can be made real each time you hear the music. As you see yourself in the music, so you can become. It is through music that we move from idealisation to realisation!

This is Whut Mussorgsky Said, and this is Whut He Knew. So through Mr Zimmer's music, Missy sees herself as a bold pet detective, so she is, and on her can be pinned the hopes of sum abused animals as she searches web-pages to fing dawg-loving circles - because as long as she hears Mr Zimmer's music inside of her, she will werk towards helping udders become free. As long as Mr Zimmer's music remains playing inside of me, I can continue to see myself as more than I am - and I can be that heroic writer who is like Mr Dickens or Mr Kipling, who types Whut He Sees so others see it also!

Yeah!

And as long as Mr Mouse hears Mr Zimmer's music inside his head, he can be a Real ADA, fearless and professional, with a keen mind, who finds as many ways as he can to change the laws to be animal friendly in this area. And Auntie Michelle can be in her one-person office and know that she is on the cutting-edge of District 'Turney's Offices Everywheres, that she has been the Furst where there will soon be Menny - and that she is holding aloft the Light that will Guide Others. Right now, she might feel OnAlone, but she is NOT! She is the Hope, the Furst! Soon, everybun will want to be like her and Judge Rudy!

Music makes the dream real, gives it a depth, and a presance that it could not have when it is only a silent dream seen by one. Music makes the dream more than a dream; it lifts the head, gives stars to the eyes, blows wind through the hair, and lifts the spirit alof to run with the clouds. Through music the dream finds expression and liberation and runs, like electricity, expanding from one heart to another.

So we will celebrate Our Dreams today and carry them like kites into the the high wind of pure music! Hooray for Hans Zimmer! Hooray for Mussorgsky!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:18 AM EDT

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A snap-shot of Us: The BunRoom has a Washing Machine, anna Door-to-the-Back-Gardin anna Door-to-the-ScreenPorch innit, anna Salad Bank. Most imporantly, it has Our Habbytats.

Over the weekend, Maman and Phil took down alla curtains and hung up Noo Curtains that Maman said are Navy Blue. Whutever. They are sus'posed to keep out enny lightning that happins outside onna'count obba Fakt lightning scares MissBun and Maman doesn't want her to be scared.

So the BunRooom looks Quite Nice, and now the Sun comes up earlier Outside or sumfing onna'count obba Fakt Dadda told Maman alla clocks were buggered on Sunday. Alla Us Togedder have noticed Nothing Noo, hextcept that Maman and Dadda woke up one hour later than usual tiday, anna Dawg didn't care onna'count obba Fakt he is Feeling His Age and is Not Very Anxious to Go On Patrol when it is Very Cold Outside as it was This Morning. He prefers, he said, to Wait Forda Sun to Warm Fings Up. He said there is Currently Ice onna Small Pond atta Bottom Obba Gardin, which makes it Very Dif'cult to Mark His Territory inna Usual Manner.

Ennyways...

The Whole Fing that is bothering me tiday was brought up by Maman as she was beginning to do the Laundry this morning.

Because the Washing Machine is inna BunRoom, Maman does a Lotta Talking to Us while she is doing the Laundry. Alla Us Togedder consider this to be Our Time Togedder with her, when we hextchange Opinions and Ideas onna more or less Equal Basis.

  !

Posted by Our Warren at 9:27 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 16 March 2008 7:20 AM EDT

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Well, yestidday Maman was off sick, which mostly meant that we were off, too, onna'count obba Fakt that if she wasn't Uppystairs in her Study, None of Us Togedder were there, either. 

In Fakt, she did most of her Being Sick onna sofa inna Sitting Room, by herself, with Da Dawg sitting there, being bored, and this was onna'count obba Fakt Dadda told him to "Guard" Maman when he left the Houz. But, assa Dawg said (when he was on wunna his trips out to have a drink atta Water Bowl inna Kitchin),

"There is no trick in 'Guarding' sumfing that don't moov."

So Da Dawg was bored and Alla Us Togedder were mostly Bored, too. 

Then Phil and Laura showed up and we all got Baby Organic Carrots (which was Nice) but then they hadda go Uppystairs onna'count obba Fakt Maman couldn't Stand Enny Noise, so *that* was Pretty Much the End of *That*, too. 

Then it began to rain.

And Missy and I were all tucked up in Our Habbytat, and suddinly Mr Mouse said frum over in his Habbytat, "I wunder Whut Happined toda Catz?"

And Missy settled her Gen'rus Pro'porshuns down further nextest to me inna Hay, plumped herself out and was, like, "Humpf. Good riddince to Catz!"

And as I was sorta scrambling to make way for my hexpanding Bunwife, I was, like, "I dunno, but I haven't seen them inna'while." 

And Mouse (who doesn't have to scramble to make way for ennybunny onna'count obba Fakt he issa Singletary and has his Whole Habbytat to himself) said, "Well, Beep-da-Udder-Cat sneeked Downnastairs for a Sekond the udder day and squeeked that she didn't like their Noo Litter. I didn't even know they had Noo Litter!"

"Whut's not to like about 'litter'?" I axted Mouse. "We have Yestiday's Noos alla time. Don't the Catz have their Very Own Kind of Litter, too?"

And Mouse said that he thought they did, and he thought the Catz were just about The Most Spoilt Catz Onna Planet of Our Warren, Ennyways.

And then Missy added that she thought it was Pretty Good that the Catz were now Banned to their Own Apartmint Uppystairs, onna'count obba Fakt Catz have no place in Her Werld, Ennyways.

And she stretched out her head forwards and her legs backwards, which pretty much meant that she was taking up a Goodly Porshun Obba'Vailable Sleeping Area in Our Habbytat. So I nudged her, which was pretty much like poking innu a pillow.

And outside, it was raining more.

So Mouse was having a Small Snack and he called over to me, "Hey, George."

And I was, like, "Yeah?"

And Mouse was, like, "You napping?"

And I was, like, "Not rilly. Missy's kinda inna'way of Primary Optimal Sleeping Arrangemints."

And Missy opined wun eye and said, "We're takin' turns."

And I was, like, "Lookit, we don't *have* to 'take turns'! The Onliest Time we have to Take Turns is when you lie all kitty-corner inna Habbytat and stick me heer, inna corner! Udderwise there is Plenty of Room in heer for Two, mebbe Three HouzRabbits." 

And Missy said, "Are you callin' me a Cat?"

And luckily, I stopped to fink this over before I said ennyfing else, onna'count obba Fakt Missy Hates Catz.  

Now Missy has Allus Hated Catz. Even before I knew her, before I even came to Our Warren, since before even Missy came to Our Warren, she has Hated Catz.

It has sumfing to do with her kithood *before* she was rescued.

Maman and Dadda didn't know this at Furst, and neither did Unkul Michael (Bailey and Janie's Dadda) who was her Fosta Dadda, onna'count obba Fakt Unkul Michael didn't Hab Enny Catz for her to hate.

But as soon as Missy got to Our Warren that would be her Forever Home, she Met Cokie-the-Fat-Cat and KayCee-Empress-Kitty (who was living heer onna'count obba Fakt that Phil was inna Navy).

Now, Cokie had alreaddy tumbled toda Fakt that he wasn't welcome inna BunRoom onna'count obba Fakt that Belinda Bunny had alreddy head-butted him outta there. And as he had rolled acrosst the floor, it had been impressed innu his furry skull that Messing With Bunnies was Not A Good Idea, even for Rilly Big Catz.

But KayCee was dif'frunt frum Cokie. She was small, fast and she was Empress and could beat-the-snot outta Cokie. So she didn't rekognize the Fakt that, while she might not be able to Win-Against-Belinda, she might not loose Againsta-'Nudder-Bunny.

And this is Part Obba Lore of Our Warren as it was Told To Me, George by me,Hunny *Senior Bun* of Our Warren. So you know it is Troo.

So KayCee came innu the BunRoom, Just Looking - which is sumfing that Catz do. There is no Hostile Intent or Ennyfing like that, it is Just Looking because Catz want to See Everyfing, even if it Is Not Their's. So KayCee came Just Looking, and was walking down through the BunRoom.

And she kept a 'Spektable Distance frum Belinda Bunny's Habbytat, onna'count obba Fakt  KayCee was Far Frum Stoopit - and Belinda was  *There*, giving her the English Spot Stare, that just happins to be a lot like the Border-Collie Warning Stare that says, "Make my day, stoopit."

And KayCee was Bright Enuf not to try on enny of *that*. So she gave Belinda a Wide Berth, and went on walking through the BunRoom. Then she got to the end of the BunRoom, and turned around, hoisted her tail like a flag, and began parading back the way she had come...

Which brought her close by Missy's Habbytat.

(And Bemember that this happined Before Missy Met Me (Which is Why it  is part obba Lore, because I wasn't Rescued Yet) and Missy was living on her own in Our Warren assa Single Urban HouzRabbit!)

And Missy was watching KayCee saunter up the BunRoom, and she was paying partik'lar 'tenshun to KayCee's waving tail that was waving up inna air like a flag just above KayCee's smug little face.

And assa tip obba tail went past, Missy grabbed it in her mouth, and pulled.

Now MissyBun issa Big Beautiful Bunny-Gurl of Gen'rus Pro'porshuns, with Big Beautiful Paddle-Feets Attached Onna Rear-Sekshuns. So once she had the Cat-tail in her teefs, she began to use those Big Beautiful Paddle-Feets to Begin to Back Up, one Paddle-Foot atta Time, inna *RILLY* determined manner. And she was pulling the Cat-tail, with the KayCee Cat still attached, further and further innu the Habbytat with her.

The onliest problem was that the KayCee Cat-Tail was still attached to the KayCee Kitty, and the KayCee Kitty wouldn't fit through the Habbytat door!

And wunna the fings you gotta know about KayCee Kitty issat she screams. It doesn't matter if she is winning or losing - as soon as ennyfing lays hold ob her Sacred Kitty Person, she starts screaming and doesn't stop. So as soon as MissyBun had got hold of the KayCee Kitty-tail, KayCee had started screaming.

And didn't stop.

Which was Whut Attracted Maman and Dadda to come running innu the BunRoom in time to see Missy (with her Big Paddle-Feets going determinedly Wun Atta Time) trying to strain KayCee Kitty butt-end furst through the habbytat door.

Which was preddy much how Our Warren discovered that MissyBun Hates Catz.

And here I had gone and used the werd "kitty-corner" in describing how Missy was taking up Alla'vailable Sleeping Area in Our Habbytat, which was preddy much accusing her of *being* a cat.

Talk about an "Almost Ooops" moment...

So I looked at Missy and Missy looked at me and I suddinly began Pondering My Futchur Continued Peace and Harmony onna'count obba Fakt I am Not A Stoopit HouzRabbit. 

And I settled down on my paws innu a tidy Loaf Position, tucked up my tail and lowered my ears until wun ear was lying along my back and the udder was flopping 'Feckshunately acrosst Missy's head, and I said,

"Even if you hextpand to cover the entire habbytat, I got alla room inna werld!" 

And over in his habbytat I heard Mouse chuckle over his pellet-crock.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:39 AM EST

Updated: Saturday, 8 March 2008 9:39 AM EST

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Hokay, well *that* wasn't good.

Yestidday, Phil came to visit.

Which, of itself, was Perfektly Hokay, onna'count obba Fakt that he usually does and Maman doesn't mind or ennyfing. He just arrives, sorta Fits Innu Our Warren Like He Never Left and stays for Awhile. And that doesn't bother EnnyBunny onna'count obba Fakt he is Maman's Youngest Kit, Assa Fully Grown 'Dult, Still Growin' 'Tellygint (like me).

So, No Problem There.

No, the Problem came when he Arrived Inna BunRoom and started talking to Foxie.

Now Foxie is a Very Small Bunny-Gurl. As Our Auntie Carla (who is mawmie to Norman and Riley and who owns HareWEAR) pointed out, she is more like the Size Obba Very Large Hamster than a Very Small Rabbit.

And *This* is onna'count obba Fakt that the Evil Industrial Br**d*rs for Mega-Pet-Retail stores like some Petco stores and the like, have decided that they are going to take part in selling Bunnies at Easter.

As you know, we here at Our Warren are strongly opposed to the Selling of REAL BUNNIES at Easter!

The Hay Diaries proudly supports the 2008 Make Mine Chocolate Campaign!

HouzRabbits all over the Werld have spoken, and candy rabbits are ALWAYS  preferred to REAL BUNNIES as Easter gifts!

Please click on our link here and go to the Make Mine Chocolate web-site to find out how you can help spread the werd  that "Easter Is No Fun for a REAL Bun!".

Buy a tee-shirt and wear it proudly! Buy a button and wear it to a board meeting! You will be sus'prised how menny people you will inform, how menny lives you will touch, and how menny Bunnies you will save.

Because there are companies that make "Board-Room-Level Decisions" to treat Bunnies as "stock", like hand-soap or seasonal ornaments, and they ask Questions like, "How can we make this 'product' more appealing to our Target Purchaser?" And then they do stoopit "market studies" that indicate their "subjecks" like *small* bunnies onna'count obba Fakt that their "subjecks" are little children, whose parents *fink* Small Bunnies will make better pets because they look more like toys than REAL LIVE BUNNIES!

But atta same time, these "Board-Level-Retailers" just want a cheap commodity that can be easily kept, with a low over-head, with an attractive inventory, at a reasonable price, that can be ordered all at once. Very tiny bunnies fill that bill also. Having them be babbies issa "good" idea for them (and only them!) because the baby bunnies will be docile and easy to handle and can be kept in large groups that won't fight or damage each udder.

And Babby Bunnies come with an over-abundance of Cute, alreaddy!

A Retailer's Dream! And a Hundred-Thousand Tiny Bunnies' Nightmare-Journey to Hell...!

Because the Retail Pet Stores go to Industrial Br**d*rs and AXT them for Tiny Baby Bunnies!

Never ONCE thinking about the Tiny Little BUNNY LIVES they will sell to any hoomin with munny in their hand!

Yeah.

Which is why we are so Opposed to Pet Shops selling bunnies at Easter.

Because hoomins buy little baby bunnies, and then they keep them for just *so long* and then get "tired of them" and throw them away.

This is the Sad TRUTH of Easter Bunnies!

So the Horrible Industrial Br**d*rs, who have no consciousness, fill the orders frum the Retail Stores for Cute Baby Bunnies. And they deliberatly TRY to br**d the tiniest, cutest BUNNIES. They cross teeny white Netherland Dwarf bunny-gurls with smart, sassy English Spot bunny-boys, then cross the tiniest sons and daughters to get even tinier babies! 

Like Our Foxie.

Our precious little "Teacup Spot" who is not a "Noo Breed" of Bunny, but a sad little inbred cross, no bigger than a gimmie-pig, very hard to spay, very tiny for Our Dr Sharin to care for, very delicate to handle, and too much *work* for the stoopit people who bought her assa "Easter Boy-Toy". They misnamed her "Lightning", didn't learn Ennyfing about having a HouzRabbit, and then decided, "Well, let's have ferrets."

So there was no room in their hearts for Foxie, ennymore and they wanted sumbunny to take her off their hands.

So now Foxie lives here at Our Warren, and is Living Assa Urban HouzRabbit.

So Phil came and was making a Fuss Over Her and she was making Doe Eyes at Him, so he decided to Pick Her Up.

Well, across frum Fox is Mr Mouse. And Mr Mouse is used to Waking Up With Dadda every morning and going Uppystairs on Dadda's shoulder to Go To Werk. This is onna'count obba Fakt that Mouse issa CBO or sumfing (Chief Bunny Officer) of sumfing called Lagomorphin Enterprises that Missy says she owns.

Ennyways...

Dadda was *rilly* bizzy yestiday, so he told Mouse that he wasn't going Uppystairs toda Office, but was going straight to sumfing called Sertyfied and he Would Be Back for Mouse's Playtime, Later.

And Mouse was 'Nnoyed About That onna'count obba Fakt that Mouse doesn't *do* "Later". He does "Now" and "Soonest" and "You don't Ignore Mouse."

So While Dadda was gone, Phil arrived and started playing with Foxie.

And he let her out and let her climb up on his shoulder!

Well, just as soon as Foxie's little Head appeared over Phil's shoulder, and she took a look down at Mouse in his habbytat.

And Mouse was, like, "HEY!"

And Foxie was like, "Lookit me!"

And Mouse was *rilly* 'Nnoyed so he grunted at Phil, "HEY! STOOPIT!"

And Phil turned to Maman and was like, "Hey Ma! Look at Mouse. I think he's angry or something because I have the little Princess out."

And he stood up and there's Foxie, riding high on his shoulder, way above Mouse's head. (onna'count obba Fakt Phil is rilly tall!).

And Foxie was not making it easy on Mouse, eidder, lemme tell you! Onna'count obba Fakt she was hanging on to Phil's collar with both little white paws and laughing at Mouse who was down in his habbytat, grunting and tossing bits of hay inna air.

And Missy turned to me and was like, "Hoo-boy. Dis can't be good."

And I flipped my ears around in agreemint, onna'count obba Fakt I was agreeing with her, but there was nothing *I* could do about'it frum over where I was in Missy-and-my habbytat.

And, of course, Dusty wasn't paying enny 'tenshin at all, onna'count obba Fakt he was stuck on dancing in circles buzzing, "Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny!" over and over again like some kinda recording loop.

So Maman said to Phil, "I think you'd better either put her down or go somewhere else before Mouse explodes from sheer envy."

And Phil was petting Foxie and Foxie was loving it and they went on like that for awhile, and Phil said to Maman, "Mouse is gonna have to get used to it."

And Maman was like, "Mouse doesn't 'get used' to ennything. Mouse just gets even."

And Phil laughed - and you know, this is allus dumb! - but he did it ennyways - and then he said to Maman, "And whut's he gonna do about it?"

And he even turned to Mouse, who was sitting there, all hunched up and Glaring Disapproving Rabbit Looks at Phil, and he said,

"Whutcha gonna do about, Tough Guy? Huh? I got your chick, and what are you gonna do about it? You sum big tough Marine? Come on, Short Stuff. Show me whut'cha got."

Which is prob'ly how guys who usta be inna Navy talk, but it isn't how you talk to Mr Mouse.

So Mouse turned around and gave Phil the RBB, and then looked over his shoulder, just to make sure that Phil saw him doing it.

And the RBB is the Worst Insult There Is in Lagomorphin. It means, literally, "I tun my back on you - you are not even worth being considered a threat that must be monitored." or, less politely, it is the Lagomorphic version of "The Bird".

And Maman saw Mouse do this and she just shook her head.

And Foxie saw Mouse do this to Phil and she giggled!

And Missy said to me, "Well, that's done it. I wonder where the Fat-Cat is? He's usually around when the pooties are about to fly."

And I didn't say ennyfing because, you know, Whut's the Point? I just went to Occupy the High Ground and Stay Outta the Way, lemme tell you!

So, finally, Phil said to Foxie, "That's enuf, little Princess." and let her go back innu her habbytat.

And then Phil went off with Maman. And for awhile it was preddy quiet in Our Warren, but I am not Stoopit; Mouse was just getting geared up.

Then I heard Maman and Phil coming Downnastairs wiffa Dawg close behind them. Anna Dawg came through innu the BunRoom, and of course he stuck his Border-Collie nose innu Mouse's habbytat and said cheerfully, "Howyadoin' BunnyRabbit? I'm onna way out On Patrol.", and snorted dawg-snot all over Mouse's hay, which issa dawg-way of being sociable.

That is totally unacceptable to Rabbits.

And then right behind Da Dawg came Maman, and Dusty started running in circles yelling, "Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny-Pet-the-Bunny!" and this time, *IT WERKED!*  Maman stopped and petted Dusty - who went innu an immediate swoon ob Total Bliss. 

And Mouse grunted, "THAT DOES IT!" and dove straight innu his pootie-box and started digging furiously with his frunt paws.

Well, for the Furst Fing, Mouse-in-his-habbytat is about on eye-level with the Dawg. For the Sekond Fing, Mouse's habbytat is Direktly Across Frum Dusty. And forda Third Fing, Mouse's habbytat is onna 'Zactly the Same Level as Dusty. And Maman was standing right between Mouse and Dusty anna Dawg was right beside her..

And the pooties literally began to F-L-Y across the room.

I mean, we're talking a hail of pooties.

And Da Dawg was like, "Hey!" and he was trying to cringe and somehow make there be Less Dawg assa Target.

And Maman was like "Mouse!" and she was holding up her hands like shields.

And there were even more pooties flying outta Mouse's habbytat and he was digging like he was onna way to China.

And Phil, who was standingi nna doorway, and not inna direct line-of-fire was like, "Whoa!"

And Dusty suddinly popped outta his trance and realised that he's being showered with pooties. And Dusty, who is not too Quick Onna Uptake, was like, "Whutdaheck? Pooties? Hey, Mouse..." and then he started running in circles again, trying to get outta the way.

And pretty soon, Mouse's pootie-box was empty.

And the BunRoom floor was covered with pooties, hay, and lotsa pellets of Yestiday's Noos.

And Maman, slowly put down her hands, and started brushing out the ends of hair, and a few pooties fell out on to the floor. And she looked at Phil, standing inna doorway and she said,

"You hadda go and challenge him, didn't you."

And Phil was like, "Hey, not my fault! I learned in the Navy that sh*t rolls down-hill, but, ya know, this is the first time I've ever seen it actually get off the ground!"

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

Posted by Our Warren at 1:40 PM EST

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WHOA!

Hang on to your ears!

We were, Alla Us Togedder, (Missy-and-Me) in Maman's office when there was this rumble.

And we could hear it onna'count obba Fakt that Maman hadda little window inna Catz Bafroom Opin onna'count obba Fakt we needed the Wind to come in to carry off the Smell Left By Cokie-the-Fat-Cat who had Just Left A Contribution In His Litter-box.

I mean, the Wind that had been coming in had already been giving Maman a headache and was making Missy clingy. Bad Wedder is Wunna Those Fings you kinda Ged Used To when you are Living Assa Urban HouzRabbit in Noo Joisey. It's like, you know Innel'lektually you are inna Houz and proteckted frum Wind and Rain, but the Rabbit part of your HouzRabbit Instinks tells you to Get Your Head Down inna Bad Blow. And the Wedder in Noo Joisey is like Dadda says, "If you don't *like* it, wait five minits!"

So, the Fakt was that we had been Smelling Sumfing onna Wind ever since Maman had opined the Bafroom Window onna'count ob Cokie-the-Fat-Cat.

So we heard the rumble and Missy said to me, "You know, that smells like Thunder."

And I said, "Can't be Thunder onna'count obba Fakt it is still Winter Outside. The Dawg said it's getting warmer, but we haven't sung the Bim Song, so it certainly can't be Spring."

And Missy said, "Lookit, George. I know Thunder When I Smell It. And I don't like Lightning, so I make sure I know smells I don't like. Besides, look at Maman."

And sure enuf, Maman was sort of weaving around in her chair atta'puter.

And that's when we, Alla Us Togedder, heard the rumble again, and Maman called out to Dadda in his office, "Brian? Was that thunder?"

As I've said previously in The Hay Diaries blog, Maman has a Good Grasp Obba Obvious.

So I waved my ears and was like, "Yup. That's Thunder. This issa Thunder Storm and we're having it."

And Missy said to me, "Lookit. I'm gonna shut my eyes. Iffa lightning comes through my eyelids, you don't let it zap me, hokay?"

And I was like, "Hokay." Onna'count obba Fakt Missy has this weird notion that if she can see the Lightning, it's gonna zap her, when the Fakt Obba Matter is, if you can See the Lightning, it's Alreddy Too Late and You Been Zapped. I've tried to hextplain it to her, but she refuses to Get It - sorta like trying to discuss Quantum Mechanics with Dusty: once you go sub-Atomic with him, his eyes glaze over, he starts Presenting and we're right back to Pet-The-Bunny. 

So there I had Missy stuck innu my side, and Maman-atta-'puter said, "Uh oh." just as a Big Gust Ob Wind slamed innu the Houz.

And then Heer Came The Rain. And we're talking firehose-onna-flat-rock, not your Gen'rally Gentle Spring Shower, folks.

So Maman came to the Brilliant Decision to go habba Look Atta Wedder Maps onna Nashunal Wedder Service. (You can see them here. Just type inna name of Your-City-or-Zip-Code onna top, left-hand side and click "Go"). She usually goes to the Bow-Tie Wedder-Guy (onna'count obba Fakt that nobunny knows Bad Wedder like he does!), but tidday, she wanted the NOAA-Guys in Mount Holly.

Yeah.

You know, Our NOAA-Guys in Mount Holly are down there in their Bunker, posting Maps and reading their 'puters and stuff, and ishooing Warnings and getting information from Everywhere, and Maman waits until we're already IN THE STORM bifore she goes to see Whut They Have To Say About It.

It's the whole Grasp Obba Obvious fing.

And, sure Enuf, there is a Nice Red Line formed almost innu a out-ward-facing-bow onna 'puter Radar Screen, sweeping it's way up frum Delaware Bay inna Gen'ral Direkshun ob Us.

Now HouzRabbits are the Third Most Pop'lar Companion Animals In America, but we still have Instinks that remain frum when we Lived Inna Wild. And Inna Wild, we bunnies would go down Innu Burrows Inna Warren when there was gonna be Bad Wedder. And Unner'ground there is No Wind, and No Rain, No Thunder and No Lightning and Everyfing is warm, quiet, dark and dry. Which issa Lot Like a Houz, hextcept for the "dark" part.

Anna wild bunny's usual response to a Dangerous Situation is to Sit Tight until the Danger has Gone Past, which Gen'rally Werks if the Danger happens to be, say, a predator or sumfing that is Looking For You - onna'count Obba Fakt if the pedator doesn't Find You, it won't Get You.

But Bad Wedder isn't like a predator. Bad Wedder issa more generalised sort of fing that's not looking to get ennyfing, so it will Get Everyfing. And Everyfing will inklood *you* if you don't get outta the way. So staying still and not moving is Not An Option when you're caught Inna Opin by Bad Wedder. But inna Houz, you are as safe as inna Warren.

It's anudder Grasp Obba Obvious fing.

So the Storm Blew Over and the Lightning Didn't Get Missy, and Maman's head didn't hextplode.

And afta a few minits, Missy said to me, "You know whut, George?"

And I was like, "Whut?"

And Missy was like, "I habba feelin' about dis."

And she shuffled her feets around so that she was facing outwards onna Foo-ton, hextcept forda Fakt that her butt was still Glued To Mine For Her Protekshun.

And I was like, "So whut's your 'feeling'?"

And Missy said, "We're gonna hab to talk dis ober wiffa udders, but I fink it might be Time to Sing the Bim Song."

And I snuffled the wind that was now blowing innu the Little Bafroom Window and hadda short Fink aboudd'it and said to Missy, "You fink?"

And Missy said, "Yeah. I fink That Did It. Spring might have Just Got Sprung."

"Just Like 'That'?" I axted her.

And she said, "Just like dat. *Bang* Spring Is Sprung, and we're gonna hab to hurry downnastairs and Sing the Bim Song. Tidday. Right Now. Alla Us Togedder."

And she looked at me. "You're the Top Bun, George. Why are you sitting there! Get bizzy! Get Maman to take us downnastairs Right Now! And getta Dawg anna Catz togedder! We gotta hurry!"

And I'm, like, finking to myself, "Yougottabekiddin'me." and then, for Sum Reason Known Only To Herself, Maman puts her hands against her desk and says to Missy-and-Me:

"Come on, You Two. We're going Downnastairs."

And I'm Telling You, even though Maman does speak passable Lagomorphin, Missy didn't say a Werd or make a Gesture towards her! So Whut I'm Finking issat Females have sum kinda strange connection along which they can communicate onna level males can't! Onna'count obba Fakt, Maman caught Dadda off balance, too, because he said to her as she stood up:

"Going downnastairs, Sweetheart?" like he hadda'bout much obba Kloo about Whut Was Suddinly Going On as I did.

So now I gotta figger out How To Call the Catz (who are stuck Uppystairs) anna Dawg togedder innu the BunRoom so we can all Sing the Bim Song.

Right Now.

Tidday.

Onna'count obba Fakt that it seems Spring has just been Sprung...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:32 AM EST

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Sorry about the gap in The Hay Diaries.

*Stuff* goes on in Real Life, too, and sum obbit I can't control, even if I hadda stick. The best Fing Alla Us Togedder could do over The WeekEnd was to Sit Tight and wait for Fings to blow over a little bit.

So we did.

Ennyways...

Now it's Monday again, and I want to tell you about anudder blog that I found.

You know, Wunna The Fings I have found is that Good Noos for Companion Animals can pop up Ennywheres. You have to keep your eyes opin and your ears up (or in Missy's  case, just be Onna'Lert).

While looking for sumFing else, I found TrentonKat's Blog. It is a blog mainly aboud'da Kat living inna City of Trenton. Now you know I usually don't read much that is typed by catz onna'count obba Fakt that if I wanted to know whut Catz were finking, I could go axt Cokie-da-Fat-Cat and he would be sure to have anna'Pinion.

But this TrentonKat had an entry on February 27 in her blog about Trenton creating sum legislation that would require all pet-owners to Spay and Neuter their Companion Animals.

The entry is called "Mandatory Sterilization" and it makes a lotta sense. 

I mean, *rilly*, who needs to add Hormones to Living Assa Urban Dawg, Cat or Rabbit?

The Fakt is that 80% of all female rabbits die of a mammary-related illness unless they are spayed. 80%! That means that if sum backyard br**der selects a bunwife to have kits, that poor bunwife has an Eight-in-Ten chance of going to the Rainbow Bridge EARLY onna'count obba Fakt she has contracted a Preventable Illness. 

Anudder Fakt is that Neutered Male Rabbits do not spray or become as Offensively Defensive as Unneutered Male Rabbits. And we bond a Whole Lot Bedda when we have been Neutered, too, lemme tell you!

I can tell you this for a Fakt, onna'count obba Fakt that when I arrived assa Easter Dump heer at Our Warren, the Stoopit Hoomins who Dumped me had not bothered to have me Neutered. So Maman took me to Dr Sharin and she said, "Well, he's too young to neuter right now. Bring him back in four weeks."

And Maman and Dadda took me back to Our Warren, where I promptly chewed a hole to Go To See Missy, and then Missy (who had been Spayed Alreddy) told me I Was A Pest. So she blocked up the Hole I made to go visit her with her Gen'rously Pro'porshuned Rear Sekshuns.

So I got mad and that's right around when Beebe-Bunny came over to hextplor my habbytat onna'count obba Fakt that I wassa Noo Bunny inna Warren. So he and I got innu a Circle Fight. And I caught him in my paws and he squealed and Dadda hadda come Rescue him frum me and I wassa'shamed of myself and got sent to sit inna habbytat to behave myself until it was time to go back to see Dr Sharin.

Yeah.

And so then, Maman took me back to see Dr Sharin right away and Dr Sharin hadda look at my Rear Sekshuns and she said, "Uh oh. I expected George to grow, but, um, George has certainly 'blossomed' into a Very Big Little Boy!"

And I got Neutered Right *Then*

And so, afta that I sorta didn't feel much like duking it out with Beebe - or enny udder bunny - ever again.

And Maman said that it was all due to Hormones, or "Lack thereof."

Whutebber.

And so Maman preddy much insists that everybunny else around heer at Our Warren is also Spayed or Neutered. Maman said that there is only ebber gonna be Wun Unaltered Male in Our Warren and that's gonna be Dadda. She made an Hextception for Phil until he growed up and became anna'dult and moved out, and now he says that he issa Only Unaltered Male in his Chowder, which is also preddy much Troo. But he got the Whole Idea frum Maman.

And Maman also said that Two Babbies - Sistah Beffy and Phil - were Enuf for her, so there was not going to be Enny Br**ding Happining Heer, either - and that we are not even allowed to mention the werd.

So you are a boy and you get Neutered. You are a Gurl and you get spayed. That is being Responsible. There are many bunnies, kitties and Dawgs living in Shelters who are In Need of Forever Homes! Even if every hoomin who wanted a Companion Animal adopted frumma Shelter tomorrow, there would *still* be poor, abandoned perfectly good friends waiting for more Forever Homes!

And this is all Onna'count Obba Fakt that there are Irresponsible Backyard Br**ders who think that Animal Abuse and Cruelty are Fun and Profitable. There are Stoopit Hoomins Everywheres who Fink that a critter *hasta* procreate; that spaying and neutering is "Unnatural", and would sumhow be an "Indiggity" to their Companion Animal.

Well, lemme tell you - NOT NEUTERING YOUR PET IS AN INDIGGITY!

By not neutering your pet, you are forcing him to live with frustration. You are forcing him to live with embarassment. You are forcing him to live with hormones he doesn't need! And guess whut else? A Backyard Br**er doesn't know ENNYFING about the breed of his dawg or kittie or bunny. He only knows *his* dawg or kittie or bunny - WUN amongst hundreds of thousands! And that's nice, but that's nothing.

Sure, your "Champ" or "Nero" or "Rocky" or "Snookums" is grand. But that doesn't mean that they have to replicate themselves. They don't *need-to-br**d*. They won't have Ishoos if they don't mate. They won't gedda "complex" if they don't have sex. It's YOU, Stoopit. You're the wun wiffa problem, and mostly it's not below your belt, but above your eyebrows. Your pet isn't show-worthy, or breed-worthy, but he or she is Love-worthy.

A Responsible Breeder knows everything there is to know about WUN kinda Dawg or Kittie and makes sure that only wun or two EVER get to make MORE ob their kind. The BEST of their kind. The udder wuns are spayed and neutered and are adopted as companion animals and pets - not to make more dawgs and kitties, but to make Friends and Companions.

Backyard Br**ders are scum. Even sum Registered Br**ders are scum. Lower than scum. Maman says she has axtchually been acquainted with pond scum that has better manners and morals than some Br**ders. She is firmly obba belief that there Ought To Be Laws Requiring Mandatory Sterilization, and in Sum Cases she can imagine that The Law shuld be hextended to Hoomins, she says.

I dunno about Hextending The Law to Hoomins, although to be Fair, I don't see Why Not. The Werld Shuld Be Equal, and mebbe we could improve the breed of noospaper reporters so they could at least spell werds. I am having less Trubble reading the Noospapers frum Inkland (bemember, Inkwish is my second language!) than the Wuns Frum Around Heer. There is Wun noospaper that Maman and I read Togedder inna morning that sounds like it is typed by Little Children assa Hextersize in Class. Yeah. Maman can't get over it. Sumtimes she reads it twice, and then out-loud so I can hear how it sounds, and she's right - it sounds like ten-year-olds onna school-ground.

Ennyways, I have learned to type Inkwish as I hear it spoken to me, and sumtimes as I see it, and sumtimes as it was taught to me by Belinda Bunny who was Wunna The Furst Bunnies to translate Lagomorphin into Inkwish. The main difficulty with translating Lagomorphin is that Lagomorphin has so much body-language that doesn't easily translate innu hoomin werds: there issa Big Dif'ference between communicating over open land inna sunshine or by firelight and communicating inna dark tunnels obba Warren, unner'ground. We bunnies can communicate paragraphs with an ear-angle and a tail-twitch.

But most of Lagomorphin dates frum when we were still Living As Wild Bunnies, and now that we are Living as Urban HouzRabbits, we have had to learn Noo Ways to communicate, and Noo Ways of Using Technology and Noo Ways of doing Menny Fings. Out-dated fings have to be left behind. And that inkloods Out-dated practices of producing as menny litters as possible before meeting the Black Rabbit. With so menny Bunnies in Shelters and being dumped afta Easter, we don't *need* to be doing that. Spaying and Neutering are Important to Living Assa Urban HouzRabbit.

So Our Warren supports Mandatory Spaying and Neutering for Companion Animals. We support Good Training and Responsible Care. We support Humane Practices and Diggity for All Species - yeah, ebben for Catz.

Every Life is Precious.

And we Believe in This.

-------------------------------------- by George.

Posted by Our Warren at 7:46 AM EST

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Maman seems to like Wedder. Well, not LIKE it, but she sure observes it as it happins. It makes her head hurt most obba time, so she tends to know Whut's Gonna Happin even bifore it does.

So we getta lotta Wedder Reports Around Heer.

And we watch Wedder Reports frumma Bow-Tie Wedder Guy (click on it!) and Udder Places, too.

We like maps. We like Knowing Whut's Coming.

We like Sunny Days and we like Rain Days and Snow Days when we can curl up and snooze all day long! We aren't too keen on Thunder, onna'count obba Fakt it makes MissyBun jump, and we aren't too thrilled with Bright Lightning, either, but as Maman said to us as she was Folding Laundry, you Can't Hab Ebberyfing. Sumtimes, *Stuff* Just Happins.

Like Wedder.

So tiday we are having Bright SunShine.

Maman waked up bifore Dawn, while it still Looked Like Dark, and she watched the Moon Set and Wondered To Alla Us Togedder how-come Dawn In Noo Joisey was never as lovely as it was in Inkland.

And I said I didn't know onna'count obba Fakt I have never been enny place else besides Noo Joisey.

And Maman said that where she lived in Inkland, there were mists that rose above the wadder, then vanished inna sun, and showers bifore dawn, and opalescent grey skies giving way to colours like only rilly bad artists used, that nobun believed had ever been seen in Nature bifore. She said that sumtimes there were Sheep Onna Road, too, onna'count obba Fakt that the roads were black and absorbed the heat-obba-day, so the sheep would come down frumma Hills and sleep on them during the cold-obba-nights. And then when she would come along on her way to werk, she would have to be careful driving.

It sounded inner'resting. But there is "inner'resting" when you hear about it and "too inner'resting" when you have to live innit, lemme tell you!

I prefer just "inner'resting" to hear about, fanks.

Tiday's entry is gonna be short - for which I apologise - but ebberyfing is onna'count obba Wedder. For Right Now, Alla Us Togedder have gotta "make hay while the SUN shines!" onna'count obba Fakt there is gonna be RAIN tomorrow!

------------------------- By George 

Posted by Our Warren at 9:40 AM EST

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Hokay. It's Time To Get Ready.

It's Been Pancake Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, so that means that it is now Lent, and the Beginning of the Easter Season.

That means it's getting to be Time for Wunna The Most Important Campaigns Inna Werld To ME - Make Mine Chocolate!

That's Right!

It's coming up onna Time when I tell the story of Willow, the Easter Bunny NoBunny Wanted, and the Story of Me, George the Easter-Dumped Bunny!

Yeah.

Both are Very Sad Stories that have Very Happy Endings.

But they could have had Very Sad Endings, and for Thousands of Bunnies THIS YEAR, the Ending to THEIR stories could be Very Sad Indeed.

So every year, I tell these two stories, and then I tell about "Make Mine Chocolate!" so that EveryBunny will know that Bunnies are NOT TOYS to be Bought At Easter!

You get a BUNNY and you are saving a life and getting a Companion Animal with whom to share your life.

You buy a FLUFFY TOY and you are getting a fluffy toy for Easter.

Let's not Be Stoopit about this. As Maman says, "Ignorance is Curable, but Stupidity is Terminal."

So we heer at Our Warren aim to help Prevent Ignorance by providing Information about Living Assa Urban Rabbit in this The Hay Diaries blog, and how Not To Be Stoopit about HouzRabbits.

But this is the Time Of Year when hoomins tend to get Stoopit about Rabbits. For some reason, perfectly kind hoomins see some unethical pet-store that has poor baby bunnies set out OnAlone inna window or sumfing, and they fink, "Oh Aren't They Cute! I wanna bunny to hold on Easter!"

Yeah.

And they Totally Fortyged that those poor liddle bunnies are all OnAlone away frum their mawmies. They don't know the Furst Fing about being HouzRabbits. They are tiny and skert in ways you can't imagine and there they are, trapped in glass, wif no Way Out! They don't know how to pootie in boxes, or how not to scratch or use toofies, and many times, they are not spayed or neutered, and so they have alla these hormones running all through their bodies that they don't know whut to do with! They don't know about Not Spraying, and they don't know about how to Have Hoomins At All!

So they Grow Up, and the hoomins oftin don't know why their Cuddly, soft baby bunnies don't stay as liddle baby bunnies. And then they have Big Bunnies who are OnAlone and still Very Scared and EveryBunny is Unhappy and Afraid. EveryBun is still OnAlone, with nobunny wanting ennybunny and everybunny needing sumbunny!

And do you know Whut Else Is Horribul? Sumtimes, if they are Not Sold at Easter-Time, the baby bunnies lose their Cute and are let loose with terrifying snakes to be hunted down and killed for food.

Yeah. Right in that pet-store.