Maman says it's 12th Night and alla Christmas Dekerashuns have to come down.

Yeah! And even before I've learned how to spell "Dekerashuns", Christmas is over for anudder year.

I don't like Christmas being over Just-Like-That. It should go on longer, I fink. Missybun says I must be having Flashbacks to being Lewis Carroll's big, white bunny-with-a-pocketwatch frum Alice Through the Looking-glass who lives in a world that has "Victorian" Christmases. Missy says that those kind of "Victorian" Christmases go on and on, particuarly in Royal Dalton-looking Villages that have Muppets singing Christmas Carols. But Muppets manage to make even "Victorian" misery look picturesque and appealling.

Maybe that's the whole Trubble with remembering Charles Dickens' stories at Christmastime. We tend to remember the lesson of A Christmas Carol but soften that lesson up a lot and take away its application to This Time by sprucing up Charles Dickens' London to include hum'rus iceskating penguins and cheeky pen-pushing mice. All the very real and scary dirt and disease gets swept out of "Victorian" times to be replaced with "picturesque" squalour. Now, Genuine sqalour isn't very "picturesque" when it's read through Dickens' werds, but that's how it comes out on films and in pictures and stuff, and how it lives on in hoomins' memories. Films and such make "Victorian" squalour look surperior and romantic compared to the real kind of squalour found in shelters, refugee camps and slums seen just-about-anywhere in The-Werld-As-It-Is.

Mebbe that's onna'count obba Fakt Dickens' "Victorian" squalour lacks plastic. You never see enny discarded plastic food-containers floating around in puddles, or see enny plastic bags floating on the breeze or plastered innu corners like you do in real-life. Mebbe it's the lack of plastic that makes being poverty-stricken in Dickens' "Victorian" Christmas so much nicer. It kind of makes you wonder if poverty inna Werld-As-It-Is would be less grim if there was less plastic around. (A fing to ponder.)

Since HouzRabbits don't go out much, we only know Whut We See, either frumma window, frumma seat inna car onna way to the v-e-t's, or frum watching tellyvision. Or frum hearing stories.

Our Maman reads stories, like A Christmas Carol ev'ry year because it's a Tradition at Our Warren. She used to read the story to Sistah Beffy and Phil-the-Lad when they were little hoomin kidlets, but then they growed up and she has nobunny left to whom to read, hexcept Alla Us Togedder. There might have been Baby Anya, but Sistah Beffy left the Warren and took her away with her and nobunny has heard ennyfing except rumours of betrayal and official inquiries regarding untruths frum her in over a year.

Yeah. I know - its very sad and Maman refuses to talk about it, but sumtimes sumbunny has to let loose the Truth - even though everyone knows that a lie can travel seven times around the world before the Truth can even get it's boots on (as Terry Prachett says). And the truth is this: Sister Beffy took Baby Anya and left. No reason why. She left. Tthen she phoned up Maman and screamed at her that she was "no longer part of her family". No reason for that, either. So Maman lost a daughter and doesn't even know how or why. Daughter's choice. Oh well. In a warren, anyone is free to leave - but not to tell vicious lies as an excuse. 

So if you ever see Anya, please set her straight - that old woman she's been told is her "grandmother" is no relation to her, and that old man is not her grandfather. They are nothing to her - just some people who perpetuate her mother's lies (there is proof of their lies for anyone to see. It's called a "birth certificate"). Anya's biological grandfather died before she was born and her genuine grandmother is alive (never mind what's been said  - Maman isn't dead and she never left) and Maman still cares about Anya very much. Phil cares about Anya very much, too - but Anya will never know that because the people she is with will only ever tell her lies to suit their own selfish and dishonest purposes.

So Maman read the Traditional Christmas Stories to herself inna Sitting Room when nobunny was around, hextcepting us. Maman said that keeping Traditions, even when there is nobunny to see is how to keep Faith alive. It is in the doing, not in somebunny seeing you do it.

And that is why we are celebrating 12th Night by taking down alla Christmas things. Maman said that if we kept them up all year, they would cease to be 'Peshul and soon become Common. We would get too used to seeing the Tree sitting proudly inna Living Room with alla Family Ornaments hanging frum the branches.

So Maman is going to take alla ornaments off the tree and put them away in 'Peshul boxes, so that she can take them all out Nextest Year and tell alla stories about each one of them as it gets hung up onna tree. She says telling the story of each ornament is how to keep the Family History alive, through Tradition. Phil complains that ev'ry year, Maman tells him the same stories and Maman says, "How else am I gonna get the stories drummed innu your head so you can tell them after I am gone?" and she beminded him that his Grandfather used to decorate the Christmas Tree and tell alla stories to her.

One day, it will be Phil's job to tell the stories to sumbunny else.

And the stories stretch alla way back to the "Victorian" Christmases Dickens writes about in his stories. But there are no cheeky mice or ice-skating penguins in the stories that Maman tells about the Christmas tree ornaments. There are three tree ornaments that Maman has frum "Victorian" times. They are fragile things, thin-as-paper glass tree-decorations, so translucent that you can see the dust of their paint trapped inside. They came frum Germany as gifts to Maman's Mom-mom frum her Great-Aunt Lizzie who'd been given them by her Cousin Little Charlie who came frum Germany so he didn't have to be inna Army there. He brought the tree ornaments with him when he arrived inna place called "Balt'more" and he gave them to Aunt Lizzie when went to live at her house in Chester when she was a young bride, around 1890.

And Maman's grandmother, whom she called "Mom-mom" gave the three ornaments to her daughter, Margaret, who gave them to her niece, who is Maman. And Maman will someday pass them on ("God willing" Maman allus says) to Phil, who, she hopes, will pass them on to his kidlets ("God willing" Maman allus adds), along with the story.

And those are the kinds of stories that Maman says are Tradition and that need to be remembered - how people came here seeking peace, and brought gifts with them in honour of the Christ Child entering the Hoomin Werld.

Of course, we bunnies know about the coming of the Christ-Child and how gifts came to be given In His Honour. There were animals there inna stable and we tell our Ownliest Stories about That Night and about 12th Night, too. Just because a story is not told in Hoomin books doesn't mean it is not a story told Sumwhere Else. 

There is Hoomin Lore and there is udder Lore as well. Hoomins are not the only witnesses to "history" - those Magi that spoke to King Herod came riding upon camels, and were followed by patient little donkeys carrying loads of stuff. The critters who were in That Stable That Night were still there later on, and alla Flocks were still grazing in their fields with their shepherds keeping watch (and a dawg or two) even afta the angels and archangels had stopped singing and departed with Alla Heavenly Host frum the skies.

Hoomins tend to fortyget what doesn't concern them directly. Those camels knew where they'd been; they knew who was on their backs, where they were accustomed to having food, where they'd arrived and what made their destination dif'frunt from udder trips they'd been on. Camels are not stoopit, just not rilly agreeable to most hoomins. But if you axt them, they will tell you their Lore.

And so camels know about 12th Night, too. And they have very little to say about "kings" but quite a bit to say about relative squalour, generalised poverty and the over-all selfishness of adult hoomins, lemme tell you!

So now it is 12th Night and this is the End of Christmas for anudder year. And so we will put away the Dekerashuns anna tree, and alla Traditions anna Lore and save it all for Nextest Year. I will still miss it. I like alla stories and, like Maman, I don't get tired of them. Mebbe that's onna'count obba Fakt that I bemember so menny that there's no time to tell ev'ry single wunna them over Just-One-Christmas. There are just so menny wunnerful stories to tell! So menny Traditions to keep and so much Lore to be shared.

So mebbe I rilly amma kinda "Holiday Bunny" as Maman told me earlier. Even though I arrived assa "Easter Dump" and maybe shouldn't like holidays onna'count obba Fakt it wassa holiday that caused me to be bought and then 'bandoned atta v-e-t's inna cardboard box, I still rilly like to celebrate All the holidays. Mebbe I like holidays precisely because a holiday played a Big Part in my being rescued and becoming part of Our Warren. 

Yeah! There is allus an "up" side to ev'ryfing.

But I feel that there is just sumfing about holidays - holy days - and mebbe it is that there is allus a sense throughout holidays that trandsends Time. It stretches back and forth like a length of spider's silk, anchoring the Past to the Present and connecting it to the Future. And I like all that connecting stuff, being able to touch those barely-visible threads and hear them vibrating softly with voices clearly heard - for those who will listen...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 9:12 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Well, Maman waked up around three o'clock inna morning when Alla Us Togedder were alreddy awake.

And she didn't look so good, lemme tell you!

Yeah, well, she didn't but Missy says I'm not s'sposed to say. I told her I believe in Journalistic Integrity but Missy said there's Journalistic Integrity and then there's your Basic Stoopit and if I want to werk my way through this whole Baby Organic Carrot, I won't go indulging in the latter.

Ennyways...

Maman got up at three, then again at four (and at four, Dadda was sitting atta Dining Room table eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal that he wasn't sharing) and her head was alreddy hurting her.

She told Dadda that she wanted her left eye taken out, but I don't fink she meant it. When she's getting wunna those "mygraines" it allus begins in her left eyeball. So she took some meddysin and by then Da Dawg woke up enough to decide he needed to do a Dawn Patrol, so Maman let him outta Back Door into the Gardin.

And because wunna her meddysins has to be kept inna Salad Bank, she got us out sum Baby Organic Carrots because she said it was Not Fair for Dadda to have cereal Right In Frunt of us without offering ennyfing to The Bunnies. And because she gave us Baby Organic Carrots for a treat, she had to give Da Dawg a Milk-Bone Dawg Biscuit when he came in, and then told Dadda that she felt guilty onna'count obba Fakt she felt too badly to go Uppystairs to give The Catz a treat, too. Maman rilly hates "unfair".

Dadda said that he thought Cokie and Beep both had enough padding to see them through missing wun treat and Maman should go back to bed.

But "mygraines" make Maman behave funny. She says she can't think right when she's having them, so afta she gave us the Baby Organic Carrots and gave the Dawg his Milk-Bone, she took treats Uppystairs and handed them out to Cokie and Beep. 

She was just starting to feel guilty over Phil's Chowder of Five when Dadda said, "Whut they don't know won't' hurt them. Go lie down, dear." and Maman sort of wandered off inna direction of the Bedroom - anna Dawg trailed after her (because basically, atta age of 14 Marc doesn't see enny reazons for getting outta bed enny earlier than he has to! I mean, as he said, it's not like his Gardin has moved much inna last five ot six years, so...he can re-mark his boundaries at eight o'clock inna morning just as well as he can at six.).

So we didn't hear ennyfing much frum Maman until Later. She came out again and said it was raining, but that was only Dadda-inna-shower. Da Dawg says it is "much too cold out" to rain and being frozen-to-the-ground while carrying out certain "jobs" inna Gardin is lookin' like a "real possibil'ty". Dadda said the Nashunal Wedder Service is predicting Snow, so he was trying to get a head-start on the day - but with Maman wandering around with her left eye hurting badly, it not easy onna'count obba Fakt it makes him werried about her.

So to help Dadda, right now, We Are In Charge. 

Yeah. 

Well, that's Alla Us Togedder along with Da Dawg. Phil's asleep, but if ennyfing major breaks out, I'm sure he'll wake up just as soon as Marc barks or Maman screams or I thump. 

But we're the Furst Line of The Fence around heer, and we take Our Job pretty seriously. Dadda told Da Dawg he's "On Guard", so he's sitting atta bottom obba stairs in case there's an Outbreak of Catz. 

And we're heer, all snugged up in Our Morning Handful of Hay, keeping our eyes opin and ears swivelling while we munch - onna'count obba Fakt we're keeping Onna'Lert. 

Yeah.

So we're bizzy helping Dadda this morning. Maman doesn't feel good and sumbunny has to be In Charge of the Warren. So I'm TopBunning it along with Mr Mouse, with Da Dawg doing "support". Onna'count obba Fakt that you nebber know - Sumfing might happin. 

But we'll be reddy.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 9:46 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

It was FIVE years ago today that Belinda Bunny sat down at Maman's 'puter and decided that HouzRabbits should have their Ownliest Voice onna Werld Wide Web - and that that Voice was going to be hers!

Yeah!

And so, she created the Furst Entry in The Hay Diaries bunny blog, typin' 'bout her 'speriences in Life assa HouzRabbit frum her ownliest Perspektive - frum where she actually viewed life - which was almost hextactly Frum Wun Foot Offa Ground.

And the Werld looks pretty dif'frunt from Our Perspektive, lemme tell you!  Not hextactly Whut Hoomins allus fink it should be, and not allus hextpressed in language hoomins approve, but as Belinda said, "If you don't like it, get your own blog. This is mine!" (and then she would continue on and mutter about how nobunny was breaking ennybunny's arm to make them read Whut She Typed, and all - but that was Belinda!)

Belinda was pretty much All About Self-Responsibility and Self-Regulation and she was def'nitly against Outside Innerfearance Frum Blockheads Who Lacked Respekt-As-Well-As-'Tellygince.

But, as she pointed out, as long as they have a 'puter anna tellyphone line, Stoopit People Go Ebberywheres Without Ever Leaving Home. 

"Dadda said that before the arrival obba Railways, every village had it's Idiot." Belinda told me. "And now they're exporting dem. So sumbunny has gotta ged in there and reppysent da Lagomorphin Point ob View. It doesn't matter if ennybunny accepts it; Whut Matters issat it is there to be seen Just In Case sumbunny wants to accept it." 

Belinda was Big on Choice. According to her, bunnies allus have Choices. That's why there are allus several exits and entrances to a Warren. That's why bunnies bond with Wun Bunny, but might choose to have kits wif anudder bunny. It's why bunnies are great Companion Pets, because we Choose. Dawgs live by Roolz. Catz are just a bunch of Opportunistic Elitests in fur. Bunnies make choices.

We heer at Our Warren live inna Multu-Species Warren, so we get to see close-up how dogs, cats and bunnies are dif'frunt and how we are alla'same. In sum fings, we're alla'like. We are all spayed-and-neutered. We all have our ownliest food-and-water-crocks. We all get Well-Critter Vet-Checks ev'ry year. And ev'ry wun of us issa Rescue or 'Dopshun. But living heer Alla Us Togedder in Wun Warren points out our Dif'frunces-Among-Species, too. 

There is Wun Dawg and he's a Border Collie and his life is All Roolz Alla'Time. His Biggest Rool issat he's Gotta Have A Job. It doesn't matter Whut the Job Is, Marc has just Gotta Have A Job. Even if it's just going On Patrol inna Back Gardin ev'ry morning, Marc hasta be a Dawg Onna Mission, and he's not happy with Just Wun Mission! He's a Border Collie, so he hasta have Multiple Missions - Border Collies are the Marines of the Dawg Werld, lemme tell you!

So ev'ry morning, Maman opins the Back Door to the Gardin and Marc heads out On Patrol. And In His Mind (admittedly tiny) he won't be a "Good Dawg" unless he can accomplish the following: count his squirrels inna oak tree, see off any Intruder Catz; re-mark alla boundaries obba Compost Heap (until he runs outta pee); have a Bark to let the udder neighbourhood dawgs know that he's up and about, stop atta Gate to make sure nobunny is using his sidewalk; have a look at alla bunnies inna Stone Warren; trod inna mint-patch; 'vestygate all noo smells that might have snuck unnneaf obba fence over-night - and he's gotta get alla this 'complished before sebben o'clock inna morning! - because then and only then can he sit onna top step onna Back Steps and Be The Good Dawg, Lord of All He Surveys. 

I'm telling you, the Navy only finks they get more werk done before eight o'clock inna morning than most collie-dawgs, and that's onna'count obba Fakt they gots more people werkin' onnit!

Atta udder end obba spektrum are The Catz. Uppystairs we gots Cokie and Beep and they don't do ennyfing udder than Hexpect. They Hexpect to be fed. They Hexpect to find fresh water in their crock at all times. They Hexpect Dadda wants them to sit on him when he sit down wiffa a book. They Hexpect Maman unnerstans ev'ry chirp and meow (and she doesn't even speak Feline!). They also Hexpect they each hab their ownliest Footon. And Cokie-the-Fat-Cat Hexpects ev'ry Burger King bag has Chikin Fingers innit that were ordered expressly for him!

There is No End to alla stuff they "Hexpect"!

And Downnastairs, there is Phil's Chowder of Five - KayCee (who is twelve years old and used to live in Our Warren while Phil was inna Navy), Toby, Munchkin, and Lily-an'-Oscar who fink they are brother-and-sister but who are just rescue-kitty inseperables. They arrived with Phil and Alla Them Togedder were only gonna stay a few weeks while we were all gonna Moove but Maman said then the "Bubble Burst" (whutebber that means!) and now we're all heer for As Long As God Wants, and that's hokay as long as Maman doesn't go falling downnastairs again. Dadda rilly wants her to live All On Wun Floor, but 'till then, Phil volunteered to watch her anna Chowder of Five is gonna watch Phil watch her.

Well, mainly KayCee is gonna watch Phil onna'count obba Fakt KayCee Hexpects Phil to be where she wants him to be when she wants him to be there. Which is with her, alla'time.

So, in addition to alla Reg'lar Cat Hexpectations, KayCee comes with her ownliest built-in set of Prior Hexpectations - like, Ev'rything Belongs to Her, 'Peshully and Inklooding Phil. If Phil goes out ennywheres, then KayCee comes toda door and calls Maman and Hexpects her to produce Phil outta thin air, like, well, a rabbit-outta-a-hat. And if, for some totally-absurd-and-insufficent reason Maman can't produce Phil when KayCee wants him, then KayCee Hexpects Maman to pick KayCee (and only KayCee - nebber mind those udder buggers) up and carry her innu the Sitting Room, set her onna sofa, let her snuggle innu the blanket and go to sleep until Phil returns!

Can you believe that?

Oh, and when Phil gets back, KayCee Hexpects him to pick her up and carry her downnastairs, set her on his bed and go directly to sleep with her (no video games, no moovies, no watchin' teevee, just pull uppa blankie so she can get unnerneaf obbit and GO TO SLEEP NOW!). And then, when she wakes up and is 'nnoyed for Wun Obba Million Reazons Known Only To Her, she Hexpects to pee on Phil's pillow and he is hexpected NOT to get angry abouddit...

Yeah.

And that's Catz for you!

But rabbits make choices. For hextample, we choose who rescues us. Like Belinda chose Maman. It didn't matter to her that Maman and Phil came to the Rabbit-Rescue with Heatherington so he could go on "dates" to choose a bond-mate for himself. Belinda decided she was going home with Maman and that was preddy much, that. She didn't bother to growl or nip at Heather until Maman alreaddy got her home and there was No Chance Maman was going to "take her back". Maman's not that kind of person (once you're heer, you're "part obba Warren") - and Belinda alreddy sussed that.

There were fifty bunnies in that Rescue, and Belinda chose Maman and let Maman pretend she'd picked Belinda. Actchually, Belinda just stood up in her cage and started yelling, "Hey, lady!" and she didn't stop.

Even when Heatherington (who wassa confirmed bachelor) was giving her the RBB and yelling to Maman, "No. Not that one. Especially NOT THAT ONE! Lady! Whuttsamatta with you? It's an English Spot! It'll take over our lives! No, Lady! Are you nuts? NO!"  - it didn't matter onna'count obba Fakt, Belinda was yellin' lounder.

And so Maman put Belinda inna udder carrier and she rode home onna back seat obba car nextest to Heather (who was sulking; he knew when he was beat.).

And Heatherington was right - Belinda took over the Houz.

And afta she got the hang of running the Houz, she took on running the Warren, then running Maman, then running everybun inna Warren. Then Dadda arrived frum Inkland and Belinda made up her mind to run him, too. And pretty soon, whatebber Belinda chose to do, she did. Dadda says that the Reazon alla furries get their ownliest way is onna'count obba Fakt Mamn can't say "no". The Fakt issat Maman can say "no". In fact she says "no" alot obba time. It's that Belinda chose nebber to hear the werd "No" unless she was The Wun saying it.

So when Belinda chose to start her Ownliest Blog and to add a Bunny's Voice to the Werld Wide Web ("To give a voice toda voiceless" as she said.) it happened.

Because bunnies make choices. It's Whut We Do.

So that's Whut We're Celebrating Today heer at Our Warren - Belinda's Choice. Five years ago today, Belinda Bunny chose to sit up at the 'puter keyboard and begin typing about Life assa Houzrabbit. She wanted to share her 'Pinions and Observations with hoomins and with udder bunnies, onna'count obba Fakt she believed that if everybun shared hextperiences, they would eventchually share Respeckt.

And she did get sum crittysissum - for her spelling, and use of language ("my rabbits speak perfect English" wun person bragged to Maman. And Belinda sed, "Yeah, notice that their their hippo-critical hoomin is allus talkin' FOR them! Poor, mute bunnies livin' wiffa control-freak who nebber lets them type a werd on their own. Shame on her!") - but it nebber bothered her.

Belinda chose to deddykate her life to helpin' hoomins unnerstand HouzRabbits. She didn't choose to live in such a way as to be called "Good Bunny" or to perform Jobs, and she didn't choose to live constantly Hexpecting ennyfing udder than Salad and 'Nanners (wif Craisins if Maman was outta 'nanners). She chose to be Belinda Bunny, blogger, HouzRabbit, Companion Bunny, TopBun and my Furstest Friend at Our Warren.

To Belinda and The Hay Diaries! From 2004 to now, and beyond. Hoppy Noo Year, Ev'ry Bun!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:38 AM EST

Updated: Thursday, 1 January 2009 11:43 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

I hadda sultana yesterday.

There is nuffing wrong with having a sultana wunce inna while.

Sure, they are fulla suger.

Sure, they are not hextactly "good" for you.

But they taste good.

They make me happy.

So I hadda sultana yesterday.

And Missy had wun, and so did Mr Mouse, and Dusty and Foxie. We all had sultanas, which are rilly Golden Raisins, but since Dadda calls them Sultanas, so do we!

And they were lovely!

A Noo Year's Suggestshun: allus have sum of Whut You Want on Noo Year's so that Whutebber "It" Is gets used to coming innu your Houz throughout the Noo Year!

Yeah!

Udderwise, Good Fings might fortyget where you live. So allus bemind them Where You Can Be Found!

This way, the Sultanas know Our Warren is heer and waiting for them. We in No Way disapprove of Sultanas. We don't disapprove of happiness. We don't disapprove of Treats.

And we don't disapprove of taking time out for Small, Transitory Pleasures. There is nothing wrong with small, and the longer sumfing goes on, the more you get used to it and the less you 'prisshyate it.

Sultanas ev'ry day would be too much. A sultana around Noo Year's beminds you that there are udder kinds of raisins inna werld to be thankful for - afta all, there are also sweet, sticky Zante currents.

Maman says there might be a small flurry of Zante currents tonight. 

She also says she has seen the Futchur and it looks a lot like Salad. I hadda look when she opened the Salad Bank to withdraw sum milk for her coffee and there's pretty much sum Romaine, Baby Organic Carrots, and Froot in there that should be coming Our Way. At least, the Romaine, Baby Organic Carrots, and Assorted Froots will know Where We Live through the Noo Year and Beyond.

Maman said wunna the most 'portant fings to bemember issat "It is allus darkest just before they turn onna lights." She says this issa line fromma show she played called "Anything Goes" written by sum guy named Cole Porter. She tells us abouddit while she's folding laundry, so I guess it's 'portant.

But it seems mainly troo. It is allus darkest just before sumbunny bemembers to turn onna lights. I can't tell you the number of times it gets dark early inna Winter-time and Missy and I are sitting togedder in Our Habbytats and Missy will look atta sky outta Our Window and say to me, "Looks like dark."

And right about that momint, sumbunny will come in and say, "Oh no! Bunnies-inna-Dark!" and switch on Our Light.

And, yup, it's rilly, rilly BRIGHT alla sudden, lemme tell you!

So there's anudder fing to bemember on Noo Year's: keep your light shining no madder how much you fink It Looks Like Dark. It keeps you frum being sus'prised by too much bright.

So, with lights on and Sultanas, we heer at Our Warren figger that we're pretty much ready to See Inna Noo Year.

Oh, and tomorrow on Noo Year's Day, The Hay Diaries will be starting on it's fifth year. Yeah. Five years ago tomorrow Belinda Bunny sat down to begin typin' her blog and heer am I, Wum Small White Bunny, hopping (more or less) in her feetprints.

It does make you fink...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:17 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

I was talking with Mr Mouse.

When Foxie was sick last week, Maman and Dadda fixed uppa BunPen Uppystairs in Dadda's Office so she could have Hextercise to help her get her pooties movin' through her system again. So now, of course, we all want a turn having our Playtime Uppystairs inna BunPen. But that means we have to have "Arrangemints" as Maman calls it and we have to "Take Turns" - sometimes sum of us being Downnastairs while sum of us are Uppystairs, having Playtime inna BunPen. Which is pretty much the same thing that goes on when the BunPen is put up out onna ScreenPorch inna Summertime.

Now, Missy and I have allus been 'lowed to have Playtime in Maman's Study, which is only Wun Door away frum Dadda's Office, but somehow, onna'count obba Fakt the BunPen is inna Noo Place, it just seems like a Whole Lot More Fun, even if it is smaller than a Whole Room, and doesn't have a Footon or ennyfing like that. Sumtimes a "Noo" location makes sumfing "Old" seem Betta onna'count obba Fakt it is inna "Noo" place - in udder werds, Dif'frunt can be As Good As Noo.

So, ennways, I was talking to Mr Mouse while we were in Our Habbytats inna BunRoom, waiting for Maman or Dadda to come get us to take us Uppystairs for Our Turn at Playtime.

And the Houz was Pretty Quiet.

Mr Mouse was just browsing, sort of going through his Morning Handful of hay one strand atta time, looking for the tasty bits and trying to find the bits that were best suited for building. He hadda whole Hay Wall going atta back of his Habbytat and was looking to add to it. Missy had settled down for her Morning Nap against the back of Our Habbytat, and I was over in my Finking Spot, which issa spot closest to Mr Mouse's habbytat.

And Mr Mouse called over to me and said, "Hey George. I gotta draft ober heer." and he started to pile up summa his hay towards the back of his habbytat.

And I said, "Yeah, tell me about it. We got wun ober heer, too - ev'ry time they open the Back Door to let the Stoopit Dawg in or out On Patrol, we gotta draft. Missy's been complaining about it since we mooved innu This Houz."

"No, rilly." Said Mouse. "This issa preddy Noo Draft. It's frumma ScreenPorch Door, and it's a deffynit draft. I can feel it on my butt when I lie down to sleep." 

And I was like, "You know, This Houz has more leaks than the Old Houz ebber did, and the Old Houz hadda lot more windows and stuff." 

And Mouse stopped shoving hay for a minit and swivelled his ears thoughtfully. "You know, you're right?" He said. "I bemember the Furst BunRoom, and there were three big windows in it besides the door that led to the Hallway. Anna windows looked out rilly, rilly high up, into the tree tops."

"Yeah." I said. "I bemember my very furst habbytat there wassa liddle cage - Maman called it a 'hospiddle cage' and it was set up onna shelf, and it looked out over wun of those windows. I bemember looking out and being on eyeball-level with sum sparrows. I was only a babby then."

"You were 'nnoying then." Piped up Missy, sleepily. "Going around axting ev'ry gurl-bunny, 'Are you my mawmie?' I thought Belinda was gonna bite your head off."

"Belinda was TopBunny then." I said. "And she slept nextest to the side of her habbytat so I could cuddle up to her because I'd been 'bandoned inna cardboard box atta vet's and felt all OnAlone.."

"Belinda was very sick when you met her." Missy said, pulling her back feets under her and nosing around inna fresh Morning Handful. "She had 'cancer' Maman called it and hadda travel inna car to go see Dokter Doolan far away and Dokter Sharin close by and they gave her lots ob meddysin and said she could have alla fresh salad she could eat. Maman said Belinda could have ennyfing she wanted because she was so sick that her tummy wouldn't hold on to ennyfing. But even though she was sick, and her tummy hurt her frumma 'cancer' stuff, Belinda still believed in 'NoBunny OnAlone'. And that's why she let you sleep cuddled uppa'gainst her, George." 

"Well, when I came, I didn't unnerstand that whole 'NoBunny OnAlone' fing." Said Mr Mouse. "I came frum my own warren where I was TopBun."

"And you thought you should have been TopBun when you got to Our Warren." I said. 

Mouse shrugged. "Yeah, well, I didn't know, did I? I mean, six years as TopBun and then suddenly, I'm not. So of course I started a Pee War with that big English Spot I'd just met. I thought I was born to be a TopBun, just your reg'lar Natchural Leader. And heer was this big, elderly English Spot bossing the whole place around, and she was sick and ebberyfing, so I figgered..."

"And ding-dong, you were wrong." Said Missy, sing-song sarcastic-like. And she shook her ears. "Ebben sick, Belinda could out-pootie most udder bunnies. When it came to Our Warren, it was HER Warren and that was preddy much, that. Belinda had Roolz. And once you stopped peein' ebberywheres and buildin' pootie-walls, you got the hang of it. And were glad you did."

"Yeah," Said Mouse slowly. "I was glad I did. But I hadda change my whole, entire finking. I mean, I hadda get ober the whole 'I'mma TopBun' attytood."

"Do you miss it?" I axted. "Do you miss that attytood?"

And Mr Mouse shook his head. "Nope." He said. And he flinged up sum strands of hay and watched them fall down onto the nest he was building atta back of his habbytat, nearest the ScreenPorch Door. 

"To be perfektly honest with you, I don't fink I rilly 'gave up' ennyfing at all. I mean, I still get treated "'Peshul. Maman takes me innu the Sitting Room to sit onna sofa, eat Rice Chex and see my old friends frum 'Law & Order'. I ride around on Dadda's shoulder when Foxie isn't alreddy occupying it. I get to run around in Dadda's Office. Dadda brings my Salad atta same time Maman brings yours and Missy's. So afta I lost the 'attytood', whut hextactly did I 'give up'?"

"The attytood." Replied Missy, promptly. 

"Yeah." Said Mouse. "It was like I only hadda change my finking, and then fings got bedda, not worse - which was whut I'd been afraid of, you know. I thought if I changed How I Was, I wouldn't be me ennymore, but I'm still me, and I get the same stuff, only ev'ryfing is bedda. I don't have to struggle to be TopBun and I still have alla TopBun stuff." 

"To get a cuddle, all you have to do is give wun." I said, remembering snuggling up to Belinda. She was a Senior Bun when I met her, and no matter whut Maman did, and even though it was Summer, there were still sum little drafts inna BunRoom atta Old Houz. Belinda didn't sleep much and she was allus awake, poking her nose in and axting if I was comfortyable enuf to sleep. And she allus began by saying, "Lookit, I'm not your mawmie, but sumbunny hasta look out forda babby bunnies..."

So I would talk to her and tell her she made me feel like I hadda mawmie. And I was comfortyable. And then I would snuggle up to her and block enny liddle drafts. And she would sorta doze off, and then her English Spot energy would recharge and she'd be awake again, axting if I was all right. And that's how I learned that TopBuns stay awake all night to keep watch and sleep during the aftanoons, and how to share TopBunning Dooties so that sumbunny is allus awake and in-charge even if it is Not You Alla Time.

It doesn't have to be You Alla Time. You have to share. That's how to be TopBun, by sharing, giving away so you can have, too. 

"Well, a cuddle isn't Whut I Need right atta momint." Said Mouse. "Whut I need is to get rid of this draft."

And he put both paws into his Morning Handfull and began pushing up hay like a small, brown bulldozer.

"You know," Offered Missy, raising her ears and her nose above the rampart of hay she'd built in our habbytat against the drafts whipped up by the Dawg's tail as he passed through the BunRoom. "You're trying to cover too big an area in there. Whut You Need is to make more obba shape to fit your butt. Try backing in and custom-making a Mouse-shaped hole-inna-hay."

"You think?" axted Mouse, looking over his shoulder at the Wall o' Hay.

"Eidder that or get bonded." Said Missy. And she swung her head around and using her nose, pushed herself between me anna Water-Crock until she'd wedged her Gen'rus Pro'porshuns nextest to me, so that my fur was squashed out the side of the habbytat.

"Hey George." She said, elegantly draping one long, loppy ear over my neck. "I fink there's sumfing stuck on my whisker, right heer. You wanna habba look at it for me?"

And you know? You gotta give kisses to get kisses...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 6:36 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

It sure doesn't. Not Around Here.

Cokie-da-Fat-Cat is sitting onna udder end obba FooTon to Missy and me. Cokie is inna Bad Mood. Cokie is allus inna Bad Mood when he is Hungry and today he is Hungry onna'count obba Fakt he was not the Furst Wun to shamble over toda Kitty-Food Bowl and Beep-the-Udder-Cat got there Furst.

This is Whut Happened This Morning:

Marc-da-Dawg, Maman, Missy and I all came Uppystairs to her Study Togedder, and Maman was gonna put food innu the Cat-Bowl for Cokie-da-Fat-Cat and Beep. Well, Beep was alreaddy standing beside the Cat-Food Bowl and waiting, so of course, she went snoot-down innu it right-away and started crunching.

Which left Marc-the-Border-Collie standing on one side of Maman and Cokie-da-Fat-Cat standing onna udder side of Maman and Maman standing there with her Coffee Cup in wun hand anna Cat-Food Measurin-Cup inna udder, going, "So whuttsamatta with you buggers?"

And Cokie started meowing anna Dawg started his Collie Anxiety Dance, which is when he sorta sits and shifts his weight back-and-forf-frum-paw-to-paw with his ears all forward and ev'ry fing.

And Maman wasn't quite awake, onna'count obba Fakt it still Looked Like Dark outside and she hadda turn onna wall-switch before she could even see Cokie sitting there, waiting for Alla Us Togedder to get Uppystairs. So she was standing there between Da Dawg anna Cat wiffa Cat Food Measurin' Cup in wun hand anna Coffee-Cup inna udder, anna Cokie-Cat was talkin' a Blue Streak, while Da Dawg was mainly looking Anxiety-Striken.

And Missy and I got up onna Footon onna'count obba Fakt you allus wanna get the Best Seats.

So Maman's balance isn't the best. We all know this, but it doesn't rilly'fekt us much, 'cept for the Dawg and all he hasta do is watch her and go tell sumbunny in case she falls downnastairs or sumfing. And that's not rilly much obba Big Fing onna'count obba Fakt that either Dadda or Phil are allus inna Houz sumwhere, so it's not like Da Dawg hasta fink or make plans. It's just anudder wun of his Collie Jobs, like going On Patrol inna Gardin, or Taking Outta Rubbish with Dadda. Ev'ry bunny knows that Collies have to have Jobs or else they run around doing their Anxiety Dances full-time, whining, "Gotta have a job! Gotta have a job!"

And that's not good for them. Everybun who watches "Da Dawg Whisperer" onna Nahunal Geographiks Channel onna tellyvishion knows that, Mr Mouse says. Onna Udder Paw, ev'ry rabbit inna Warren knows their job and Where They Fit In onna'count obba Fakt it's Whut We Do. We don't have Anxiety Dances. We just Do The Job That's In Frunt of Us.

So Maman leaned over the Cat-Kibble Bin with her Coffe-Cup in one and anna Cat-Food Measurin' Cup inna udder, which meant she had no free hand to hang on to ennyfing wif. So Missy and I kinda watched her head vanish innu the Cat-Kibble Bin. 

And then there was sum yellin' coming frum inside the Cat-Kibble Bin which kind of sounded like Maman calling Da Dawg.

Now Da Dawg has been trained not to go innu the Cat-Kibble Bin, but it looked pretty much like Maman was more or less mostly in there, so, Collie-to-da-Rescue, Marc rushed forward, then back, then forward again, and then back - and the whole time, he was bumping innu the hand that was holding the Coffee-Cup. So each time, a liddle bit of coffee was spilling outta the Cup onto Maman's hair.

And Maman was yellin' inside the Cat-Kibble bin, but it was pretty muffled onna'count obba Fakt the bin was a liddle onna "empty" side and Maman was more "in" than "out" - if you know whut I mean.

Hokay, well, I mean, if Missy and I are gonna be totally honest, whut we're lookin' at heer is Maman's butt stickin' outta the Cat-Kibble bin.

So ennyways, Maman got out and she was glaring atta Dawg anna Dawg was looking at her like, "What?" Because, afta all, he was trained NOT to go looking innu the Cat-Kibble Bin.

And Cokie-the-Fat-Cat was sitting onna floor nextest to the Bin, still complaining.

So Maman put sum Cat-Kibble onna floor in frunt obba Dawg and said, "There. That's your lot."

Anna Dawg was, like, "Thankyouverymuch." and started eating.

And she said to Coke, "Lookit, I'm putting yours up here onna Footon so the Dawg won't get it." and she poured sum kibble onna udder end obba Footon frum us.

And Cokie looked atta Footon and looked at Maman and then he looked atta Dawg who was vacuuming up the last bits of his kibble and Cokie started meyowling again.

And Maman was, like, "It's up there, Cat. Move your lazy self and go get it."

And Cokie was like, "Nerrrowl!"

So Maman shook the Measurin' Cup at him and said, "Don't talk back to me, young man. Go eat your breakfast."

And Cokie was, like, "Newwapt!"

So Maman turned and was closing up the Cat-Kibble Bin, putting away the Measurin' Cup and such-like and had her back to the Footon, which meant that both the Dawg anna Fat-Cat were behind her. And the Dawg had finished alla kibble that she'd put down for him, and he was looking around to see if there was enny more that might be thought of as "left-over" - because, assa Dawg, he's entitled to "left-over's". He can't steal food Frum Ennybunny else, but if the Rightful Owner seems to be ignoring it, or has walked more than six inches away frum it, well, then, legally, it's "left-over" and it's his.

This is onna'count obba Fakt Dadda says Dawgs are "scavengers" by nature. So Maman says Da Dawg issa'lowed to "scavenge" for "left-overs" as defined above.

So Da Dawg was standing there, behind Maman, looking around for Un-owned Food. And he saw the kibble that Maman had put onna Footon for Cokie. And it was just at head-height for a Collie, and there was no cat within six feets of owning it.

Of course, just as Da Dawg spied the kibble, so did the Fat-Cat. And you could just see the same thought flash accross the blank insides of both their heads at the hexact, same moment: "Mine!"

And Maman managed to turn around just as she heard the sound of Cokie-claws scrabbling up the fabric obba Footon accompanied by the sound of Dawg-teeth just missing the Cokie-butt.

And she yelled, "Marc! Cokie!" just as there wassa flurry of bouncing kibbles.

So Cokie got to eat the five or six kibbles that were left onna Footon and Maman made Marc vacuum uppa kibbles onna Carpet. Then she yelled at Marc and made him lie down nextest to her desk and yelled at Cokie so he went to his end obba Footon and sulked.

And just about then, Beep decided to sashay through the Study on her way frumm Kitty-Bowl, and she goes parading by with her tail up like a flag and this big grin on her littled kitty-lips. She went right past Da Dawg and flipped him inna nose with her tail and then strutted past Cokie, who took a sour-puss swipe at her with his claw.

And missed.

But Beep can afford to play Miss Self-Satisfied. She was the Onliest Kitty to bother wiffa Kitty-Food Bowl, and she wassa Onliest Kittie that hadda Whole Breakfast!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:43 PM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

I want to fank Auntie Linda O. O. (Isn't that cute?) and 'speshully Cream Puff for reading The Hay Diaries all In Wun Go. That was sum marrython!

And now... 

Onna'acount obba Fakt there are sumbunnies who might be wondering, YES, this blog is typed by a HouseRabbit. Just so you know. I amma Rabbit, and I live inna House and I am Real. This is my pikchur:

Just so you know.

And NO, the language and spelling you are reading aren't sum cute, pseudo-hoomin-infant-speak. Rabbits are Lagomorphs. We "speak" Lagomorphin, if you can call "speaking" using a language that has a lotta body-language and smells as well as vocalisayshuns innit a "spoken" language.  Ennyways, English (or as it is transliterated frum the Lagomorphin, "Inkwish") is our Sekond language. Belinda Bunny, who began this blog in 2004 wassa Furst HouseRabbit to sorta begin makin'uppa Inkwish Lexykon that we use to type frum tiday.

Yeah.

Basically, we type werds the way we hear them, and over time, the way we type them has more or less developed sum Gen'ral Roolz (which you'll begin to notice as you read along).

So why have bunnies mostly been silent before now? That's simple: we didn't have 'puters. When you don't have 'Posable Thumbs, and can't hold a pen or pencil, communykating wiffa'nudder Species inna Written Language is preddy much Outta The Question.

'Puters changed alla that. Once Our Warren figgered out that by turning on a machine, moving a "mouse" and bouncin'onna keyboard were all it took to communykate with hoomins in their own language, there was No Stopping Us (well, hokay, mainly nobunny could stop Belinda) frum sharing Our 'Pinions and Observations with Hoomins. All we hadda do was lern to translate frum our native Lagomorphin innu Inkwish or whutebber language our hoomins spoke, and as Belinda said,

"Afta doing that much listenin', talkin' back wasn't hard."

Historically, we bunnies use a lotta communykashun inna warren. Let's face it, you're unnerground, inna dark wiffa'lotta'udder bunnies all crowded togedder, libbin' their lives. Letting each udder know Whut's Going On is key. We are constantly spreading Noos by touch, posture, scent, as well as by talk. Sumtimes we just communykate wif Wun Udder Bunny, and sumtimes we talk toda Warren-Assa-Whole, but each bunny is fully aware obba Udder Bunnies inna Warren, alla time. It's alla communykayshun that binds a Warren tightly togedder.

So inna'case with HouseBunnies, it's basically the same fing, only, since our warrens are in hoomin houses they frequently inklood udder Species - like Hoomins, Dawgs, Cats, Kidlets, Hamsters, Birdies, Gerbils, Gimmie-Pigs, Horses, and sumtimes Small Appliances. Alla these critters end up being Part Obba Warren togedder, and for a warren to be a warren, you all gotta communykate.

Trubble comes when ebberybunny is speaking Their Own Language.

And that's where 'puters come in handy. 'Puters are easy. It's working outta Language that ebberybunny can unnerstand that's the hard part. Inkwish issa liddle bit confoozlin' onna'count obba Fakt it has stoopit spelling conventions. Belinda said Inna Beginnin' there were Spell Chekers, but they didn't come in Lagomorphin, so she made up her own as she went along. Then she and me,Hunny (who was Our Warren's Senior Bun) argued about the how The Spell Cheker checked summa the werds, which resulted in Belinda losing her Patience with Hunny and deleting The Spell Cheker and that was preddy much The End of that whole idea - wiffa result that Lagomorphin still doesn't have a truly Standardized System ob Spelling.

Which is hokay, because we manage preddy well to make ourselves herd.

Tip: If you are habbin' Trubble unnerstanding The Hay Diaries, try reading it out-loud. You'll be amazed how that helps the werds that strike your eyeballs oddly hit your ears just right! (That makes perfekt sense, because HouseRabbits, like horses, don't hab binocular vision, but we hab perfektly-tuned multi-direkshunal hearing.)

And why does a HouseRabbit keep a weblog? Because communykashun inna Warren is Ebberyfing. Communykashun is Whut Holds Us Togedder, and the Whole Point obba warren is being Togedder - not just side-by-side or inna Gen'ral Poximitty Ob, but Togedder. Alla Us Togedder make Our Warren.  

So The Hay Diaries issa story of wun, partikular warren, Our Warren. It issa Multi-Species warren, wif Five HouseBunnies, Two 'Fishul and Five Visiting Catz, Wun Dawg, and Three Hoomins (a Maman, a Dadda anna 'Dult Lad). The Hay Diaries issa story 'bout How This Warren Funkshuns (or not). It was started in January, 2004 by Belinda Bunny and continues on (more or less), typed by me (George).

And I intend to keep it going. I know I just took sum Time Off. Ebberybunny needs sum Time Off now and again. Besides which Maman got sick, and Dadda and Phil decided The Bestest Fing for Our Warren was to sell This Houz and Moove Sumplace Else and Be Rural (which ended up not happinin as quickly as "sum would hab liked" and so on, which, as Maman says will happin in God's Own Time and not Dadda's or Phil's so they need to just be calm and hab Patience, and Dadda said well, yeah, he's been prayin' for Patience and he wants Patience Right Now! and Maman says Patience was nebber Phil's strongest point... well, yeah, lemme tell you, I could type forebber onna theme 'bout "Patience"!) so alotta Fings were happinin' all atta same time, which was pretty Confoozlin' for Wun Small White Bunny.

So I threw up my paws and took a Sabbatikal.

And Auntie Linda O. O. (that is so cute!) typed me the nicest possible note, so I cut my sabbatikal short by Wun Strand (each hoomin month is like a strand of Hay - see Belinda's First-Ever Hay Diaries entry where she hextplains Our Dating System!) and now I have come back frum my Sabbatikal.

Missy says it's 'Bout Time. She hassa'lotta 'Pinions I habbin't ebben typed yet. And she can't wait to tell me.

So I'm back and here we go.

------------------- By George 

Posted by Our Warren at 9:09 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink

Is this thing on? Hmmm. I have been on sabbatical. Maman says that's Whut It's Called when sumbunny falls silent and has nothing to say for awhile, then returns with more Observations and 'Pinions. Whutebber. The point is...

I'm back.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:23 AM EST

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

A coupla days ago, it was Our Birfday. We hadda pretty nice day - Playtime onna Screen Porch, double Salads, a coupla Cheerios each, and Mr Mouse got to see N.C.I.S. onna'count obba Fakt "Law and Order" wasn't on and they were habbin' an "N.C.I.S." marrython. He said there was no harecraft-carriers in it, but still, the show was preddy good, although not As Good as watching his favourite, Jack McCoy try cases. But that Gibbs-guy is preddy cool, too.

Later on inna Nite, there were a lotta whut Maman calls "firewerks" going on over atta school acrosst the Back Gardin, and Missy and I thought it wassa thunderstorm and Maman almost hadda come and pull Our Curtains over the winder onna'count obba Fakt I was trying to hide unner'neaf of Missy's Gen'rus Pro'porshuns, but they didn't last long (Maman says the Township rilly can't afford to have "'Lab'rit Firewerks", but that Mayor Jack Ball does Pretty Darn Well wif Whut He Gets.), so it was All-In-All, we hadda Preddy All Right Birfday.

Da Dawg gotta lotta MilkBone Dawg Cookies. He is fourteen now. Maman 'dopted him frum Rawhide Rescue in Northern New Jersey back in 2000. He had been the victim inna divorce. I'm sure you know a story like his - the Father doesn't want him, but the wife and kiddies are forced to live inna 'partmint and can't have him. So da poor Dawg is suddinly homeless and it is Not His Fault! But Marc the Border Collie hadda Happy Ending to his story onna'count obba Fakt he found a Forever Home in Our Warren. And onna 4th of July, he turned fourteen years old.

And Cokie-da-Fat-Cat turned ten. Dadda sys he issa "Ancient, Auld Moggie". Of course Cokie complained about everything onna'count obba Fakt it's Whut He Does. He came to live heer onna'count obba Fakt Sistah Beffy 'dopted him assa Cute Kitten. He was all brownish-coloured then, which is not the right colour for a Maine Coon cat, which is how he was given to a cat-rescue inna Furst Place. Then Beffy 'dopted him. But he costed too much munny to feed, so she brough him over to Maman's and left him with her.

And at that time, Maman and Phil alreddy had KayCee Kitty, and she was two-years old then, so onna 4th of July, she turned twelve years old. Phil 'dopted her frumma Kitty-Rescue. When he went inna Navy he hadda make out sumfing called a "will" in case he got himself killed or sumfing. Anna JAG officer axted him, "Who do you wanna leave alla your munny to?" and Phil said, "KayCee." Anna JAG officer who was filling inna form said, "'KayCee', who?" and Phil said, "KayCee Kitty." Anna JAG officer said, "You're leaving your munny to your cat?" and Phil said, "You axted me who was the closest person to me in the werld, and I'm telling you, my cat, KayCee." Anna Jag officer looked at him and said, "Lookit, son, how about your mother or a human being? I can't make out a will for your cat!" and Phil said, "Hokay, my mother gets custody of KayCee. But if you buggers get me killed, KayCee still gets my life insurance policy."

So that's whut Phil thinks of KayCee, who still pees on his pillow when he does sumfing that 'nnoys her and does fings like go to sleep inna crotch of his trousers, or draped over the top of his computer-screen. She lives in his 'Partmint with him and has The Chowder ob Five of her Very Ownliest now. Which is how things should be, if you axted me.

And Beep-the-Udder-Cat was nine years old onna 4th of July. She also once lived  with Beffy, but when Beffy mooved outta This Houz, she said to Maman, "Eidder you take 'Gidget' (that was Beep's name, then) or she goes to a shelter. I'm not taking her."

And to Maman, that was NO CHOICE, because Maman believes that when you 'dopt any companion animal, it is for LIFE, not just while it is expedient for you.

And Maman was 'sepcially angry because the whole "mooving out" incident was over some worthless bastard named was "d'wayne" - Maman had alreddy thrown him out of wun houz and now she was having to throw him out of another.

And because she was trying to hurt everyone she could for the sake of this this lying, cheating, sub-intelligent bit of human excrement, Beffy threw away her dog, Cody, to God-knows-who and abandoned Beep. Which shows you how much she "cared" about them: dump the fur-children who have done no wrong for a proven liar and free-loader who eventually lies and cheats on her. And now Beffy blames Maman for "getting rid of my dog, Cody." It wasn't Maman. It was Beffy. Her choice. Her responsibility. Her failure. She threw away Cody to dog-fighting and walked away from Beep.

Whut Hoomins never seem to learn is that It's not a guilt-free Rainbow Bright Werld out there. No matter whut lies they make up to tell themselves to feel better about the crimes they commit against animals, the Truth burns like a flaming bag of dog-turd on their own doorstep. And they can try to dress the story up any way they like, but the Truth of it is, it's still humiliating to look at the bottoms of their own shoes in the morning. They have stepped in it and now they have to own it - because The Stink of what-they-have-done will linger, and it can't be spread around or wiped off on someone else!

There was no "wonderful family" for poor Cody-dawg. A "wonderful family" would have wanted her veterinary and spay records and breed registation papers that Maman offered to give - but dog-fighters don't care. Small dogs are disposable. Cody was disposable. There was a choice, but Cody didn't get to make it, nor did Beep. The choice was made FOR them, without their interests being considered. The bag of human crap was valued above the fur-children. It was that simple. It was never Maman's choice, because had it been, "d'wayne" would have been consigned to the human site of toxic waste-memory a lot earlier than he was. Believe me, there are disease-causing bacteria that have more intrinsic value than "d'wayne" could hope to achieve.

Don't even try to raise the lie that Maman was to blame. Beep knows that she is nine years old and she is part of Our Warren because Maman wouldn't see her returned to a shelter. Maman wanted to believe in the "wonderful family" for Cody, even though she knew it wasn't true. She wanted to believe because Our Warren was strained to it's limits to accept another member in Beep, and because her Mother was dying, and because responsibility for everything suddenly rested on her. She couldn't stand not to believe.

And so now Beep is nine years old.

But as she says, it is in a way, a sad annyversary. She is glad that she hassa Forever Home, but she wishes she had never heard it said out loud how she wasn't wanted. She bemembers too well the long few minits when she held her breath when she heard that her life in This Houz hung on Maman's saying, "Yes, I'll take her." or "No, I can't."

And This Houz was all that Beep knew. It is still All Beep Knows. She knows that Cody-dawg is gone and that Marc stayed - because Maman made a promise to Marc when she 'dopted him, that he had found his Forever Home with her, and he would never be homeless again. Maman keeps her promises.

And Beep also knows, at the age of nine, that Marc, at the age of fourteen, is an Idiot, and will remain an Idiot onna'count obba Fakt, it's All He Knows. And Beep is willing to accept that she is Part of Marc's Herd, onna'count obba Fakt he issa Herding Dawg who needs a Herd, and she is It. Cokie won't Herd and Bunnies don't, so that leaves Beep to make up the Dawg's Herd on her Ownliest. And she's perfekt'ly willing to be da Herd if that's Whut It Takes to be in Our Warren. 

And so that's Whut We're Doing tiday. Cokie is sitting onna FooTon in Maman's Study, complaining about Life, and we bunnies are having Our Naps in Our Habbytats. Marc is asleep with his nose pointed towards Beep - who is asleep, being The Herd of Our Warren onna back obba FooTon in Dadda's Office heer at Our Warren...    

Posted by Our Warren at 1:53 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

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

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink