Every year about This Time, I mention the good folks at Make Mine Chocolate.

Click on the button on the left and please visit their web-site! Support the message! Maybe even buy a tee-shirt or mug and help a bunny in need! But PLEASE, if you do nothing else, please read my story again this year and Help Spread the word - Bunnies Are Not For Easter!  

Because Every year, I tell The Story about How I Came To Live In Our Warren. It is part of Our Lore - and as me,Hunny said, The Lore is important, because knowing where we've been can help us to know where we're going.

And so, The Story is Important, because Every year, there are still poor baby bunnies who are taken away from their mothers, stuffed into boxes and crates, and then shipped in trucks to pet-shops all over the United States where the poor little dears are sold as fuzzy Easter Toys.

Except we are *not* cuddly Easter toys! We are living, breathing, feeling pets who are going - full of Hope and Ignorance - out into the World to become loving members of a family.

And these poor baby bunnies - all jammed into crates and shipped along on the backs of trucks, delievered to pet-shops everywhere, just in time for Easter - these baby bunnies, so soft and adorable - are Me.

I was just One of Millions, An Easter Bunny Nobunny Wanted; A Bunny-Inna-Box; Another Cast-off Easter Toy...one of the thousands, the sad and lonely thousands that wind up in shelters and along road-sides, abandoned in public parks and left of any-wheres, all because hoomins don't realise that Bunnies Are Not Toys For Easter.

I'm one of "Those" bunnies - the Impulse Purchase, the "Awwww, isn't-he-cute! Let's-buy-him! How-much-trouble-can-a-bunny-be?" pet-shop bunnies - that later on grows up and begins to chew on stuff, or begins to need a larger habitat, or continues to eat food, or out-grows the Fuzzy-Bunny-Stage... and suddenly, nobunny wants him any more.

And then it's What To Do With the Rabbit? Because the Easter Bunny that was so cute in the pet shop window isn't a "bunny" anymore, it's a "rabbit" and it's not a traditional "pet" like a cat or a dog - it's a pest and a bore and not socialised, because it behaves like a rabbit, not like a cat or a dog...

And it's gone from "Awwww" to "Get it out of here!"

Because "everybody" wanted it, and now "nobody" wants to be responsible for it. It's a chore and a nag. Usually no one even remembers its name, and it's become "The Rabbit" or "The Damned Rabbit" or just plain "It". On Easter Day it was was "Fuzzy" or "Snowflake" or "Bugs" and everyone swore it would go to see the v-e-t, but times are tough and there's no money for "stuff like that'.

Pretty soon, there's no money for "stuff" like "it", the totally depersonalised rabbit. But by then "it" is confined to a tiny cage in a garage, or in a basement, totally dependant for it's food on the whim of a child or scraps from the kitchen... and maybe there's water and maybe there's not, and there might be some hay and the remains of a litter-box and no one can understand why the rabbit isn't cuddly and cute, and all "it" does is sit, all alone, in it's tiny cage, in the dark.

And no one comes by, no one talks to you, and you are OnAlone, with nobunny for you to care about and nobunny to care for you.

It is the most Horrible Fate that can befall a housebunny.

But lucky for me, the people who bought me as a Easter Toy shoved me into a cardboard box and abandoned me in some veterinarian's waiting room. And the secretary there called Maman and said,

"Would you take another bunny? Someone abandoned him in our waiting room, and he's too cute to put to sleep."

Notice the words - "Too cute to be put to sleep."

Maman says what was meant was, "If he stays here, we'll have to kill him." Because there are too many bunnies and not nearly enough room for all of them.

So Maman came and got me. She says sometimes God just slaps you onna back of the head and although it's not your veterinarian, and even though there is only a very litte extra room at Our Warren, you know you have to go get the bunny.

And I remember when I arrived: me,Hunny was the Ancient Elder of His Kind, Poet was 12 years old and almost as old as Hunny. Belinda had cancer. Clover and Beebe-Bunny!! hadn't bonded yet, and MissyBun kept looking at me like I was some kinda Invader. Then Dadda gave me these green and long things he called "Salad" and I thought they were tryin' to poison me onna'count obba Fakt I'd never seen "Romaine" before and....

But the greedy breeders keep on forcing captive female bunnies into having more babies, and then they tear the babies away from their mothers to sell. And all over the country, souless hoomins are exploiting bunnies for profit - right at this very moment! - taking babies from their mothers, shoving them into crates and loading them on to trucks. And there are trucks cannoning down the highways with bunnies-in-the-back - tiny, fuzzy, baby bunnies - who are living on hope, because they have nothing else!

And those bunnies are bound for pet-shops everywhere. They'll be set up in windows for people to walk past and see and go "Awwww! Look at the bunny! Let's buy one! How much trouble can a bunny be?"

And come June,  July or August, and the shelters and parks and v-e-t's offices will be filled with rabbits. There will be listings in the papers, "Rabbit! Free to good home!" and no one will even care if the "new home" inclueds a hungry snake.

Because, you see, Easter is No Fun for a Real Bun!

The real meaning of Easter has to do with New Life and Salvation, not with sending babies to their deaths. Easter is about Hope and Faith, not about trafficking in lives and causing misery! 

So please, please - if you read this blog - remember to save a life this Easter and Make Yours Chocolate!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 8:05 AM EDT

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Hoppy Bunnaversary to Auntie Laura and Uncle Toby!

Yeah!

They have been bonded a long time, which is preddy much How Fings Are inna warren, and now they are habbin' the Vacayshun Obba Lifetime! Hooray for Uncle Toby and Auntie Laura! The Bestest Fings in Life are the fings that are shared, the plans and dreams made ober a lifetime! Alla Us Togedder heer at Our Warren wish Our Auntie and Uncle continued Joy!

And, well, this morning, Alla Us Togedder are waitin' for Noos Aboudda Noo Animal Shelter Heer in our Township. too. We wish it was bedda that Whut We Heard.

At first, The Trentonian, the local noospaper, said there was Good Noos, and there is finally munny (a hoomin fing) being set aside to build a Noo Animal Shelter to replace the Old Animal Shelter that the Old Township Council sold out frum under alla homeless dogs and cats by political sleight-of-hand. Yeah. That's whut happined, but Maman told me nobunny likes to talk aboudda Township Council the same way nobunny likes to talk aboudda disturbed-rellytib-inna-attic - it's just bestest to pretend that They Nebber Happined kinda-fing.

Ennyways, there was this noos article aboudda Noo Animal Shelter that is probably gonna be built inna Township for Homeless Critters, so I was like,

"Well, this issa good fing onna'count obba Fakt I was stuck inna cardboard box when nobunny wanted me ennymores and left inna v-e-t's office until Maman came and took me to Our Warren."

And Maman was like, "Maybe not-so-good, George."

And I was, like, "Why not?" 

And Maman read more obba article about the plans for the Noo Shelter - that it included room for "40 cats and up to 15 dogs ".

And I said, "Well, that's nice. Everything that is lost should have a temporary place to go that is clean and safe, that is run by kind, unnerstanding hoomins. And they should have access to veterinary care, and there should be adoption serivces for those pets whose owners do not deserve or want to care for them ennymore."

And Maman was like, "Yes. You're right."

And then I said, "But Whut I Wanna Know Is... Where is there going to be room for homeless rabbits?"

And Maman said, "Good question."

And then she told me aboudda whole, sad story ...

Years ago, atta old Township Animal Shelter, Maman went in and offered them a fifty-pound bag of Green Bag rabbit food, a couple of bags of Yesterday's News bunny-litter, habbytats, Litter-pans, water-and-food crocks and blankies to help provide shelter for three homeless HouseRabbits. She also took them information aboud Living With an Urban Rabbit and offered to help them provide for a section of the Shelter for Rabbits. 

The Shelter People looked at her and said - "Oh, we don't get rabbits." 

And Maman was very polite but she can axt questions, so she was, like,

"How come? House rabbits are the third most popular pet in the United States. Many rabbits are bought as Easter gifts and later turned loose or abandoned as Easter Dumps at shelters all over the United States. And as responsible, intelligent, compassionate and licensed Animal Control Officers and Shelter Representatives, you are well-educated in the fact that a domestic HouseRabbit has NO CHANCE of living outside, on it's own... and that many domestic rabbits are the victims of predation, cruelty and abuse... But you still 'don't get' rabbits at the Township Shelter?"

And the Shelter People stared at her with vacant eyes and refused her offer to donate indoor habitats, fifty pounds of rabbit food, litter, litter-pans, blankies and crocks.

Because, they said, again, "We don't get rabbits."

So now this Noo Shelter is being planned and funded, and here's the noospaper article about it, and there's still no mention of there being enny room in the Noo Shelter for Rabbits!

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THIS PICTURE?

Soon it will be Easter. And soon after Easter, there will be homeless rabbits. (Please, go HERE to learn more! I will be blogging about MMC in the futchur!) Shelters all over the United States are going to be full with bunnies who are no longer wanted as cuddly toys because they aren't toys - they are live creatures! And the rabbits that are not taken into care, surrendered to shelters are going to die, because  House Rabbits do not have basic survival skills. They will not be magically "adopted" by the local cotton-tail population, lemme tell you!

The rabbits that are thrown out OnAlone afta Easter are going to die - either of starvation, or neglect or of being killed by a dog, or though human cruelty, or merely because they were standing by the side of a road, hoping against hope that their hoomin would come back for them.

But the rabbits that get thrown out in Our Township will die frightened and alone because Ewing Township doesn't provide a single space - not even a donated space! - within their shelter for Rabbits.

Saint Francis wrote to the effect that "What you have tamed, you must be responsible for." in recognition obba Fakt that hoomins are Stewards, not owners of this Planet. So I'm axtin' Our Mayor, who issa good guy, to Please Make Room for Bunnies inna Noo Shelter. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to be elaborate. It merely has To Be.

Yeah.

And there's help available for the Shelter to create BunRoom, along with Cat and Dog spaces.There are lotsa cat-people and dog-people who are also bunny-friends around the Township, and even if not alla them are loud and vocal and write letters and stand up and shout at meetings, they are willing to help homeless animals. Ewing is fulla Good People of Good Will who aren't part of enny "group" or affiliation, who are just happy being good without having to take credit or have their names on stuff. They want to help bunnies, kitties and dogs onna'count obba Fakt helping is Good. and Moral and Right.  

This issn't a "political decision", it is a humanitarian and ethical decision. The Shelter needs to be For the Animals, not for the hoomins to getta ego-boost.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:03 AM EDT

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Marc, the Border Collie says this is the MOST AMAZING VIDEO he's ever seen.

So Missy and I hadda look, and we agree. Then we showed it to Maman and Dadda and Maman said, "George, you have to put this on your blog for everyone to share!"

So I am. Go here. Just try it. You'll be glad I told you!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:02 PM EDT

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Well, today Maman said to me that if pollyticks was turning out to be nothing more than Two Mean Gurls writing onna bafroom walls aboudda'nudder gurl in sumplace called "Washingroom DeeCee", then we might as well move to a Desert Island.

Yeah.

And then she sed to me that she knew how-come those "pun-ditz", Laura Ingraham and Anne Coulter and the like were writing alla that stuff about Megan McCain - you know, criticising the way she looks, and Whut She Says and alla that other juvenile behaviour in which they're indulging inna national press and onna tellyvision anna radio - well, Maman finks it is because those Mean Gurls are actually being paid to write that stuff by sum Myffical Third Pawtee! And that they are doing it to make the Republican Political Party look even more stoopit than it can do on its own.

Yup. That's it. The "pun-ditz" (whutebber that is!) are not genuine Republicans! They don't "speak" for ennybunny, hextcept mebbe for Snausages Dawg treats. They are being paid to write rubbishy opinions by sum udder political party and are only pretending to be "Conservative Republicans"

Maman says the great fing aboudda Theory like hers issat it's totally impossible to prove. (Whut qualities constitute "Republican" as modified by genuine as opposed to counterfit? See?).

At least that's what Maman is hoping is Troo - onna'count obba Fakt she rilly doesn't want to believe that anyone would take their Furst Ammendmint Rights so lightly that they fink this stuff is amusing.

Maman has no problem discussing pollyticks with udder hoomins. She says that everybunny has a right to an opinon, and it's hokay to discuss fings - rationally and with respect and civility alla'round - but Civility dictates that everybunny discuss Opinions, not the Person Who Holds the Opinions.

She says: Personal attacks are the last salvo of the defeated.

And that makes sense onna'count obba Fakt minds are changed by the rational demonstration of logic, not by Doing The Wrong Thing.  

Maman says she was never rewarded for doing the Wrong Thing. She's been punished for doing the Right Thing, and she's been punished when she's done Nothing at all - but she's never been rewarded for doing the Wrong Thing.

Well...

• Stealing 
• Being Greedy
• Being Envious

Are all Wrong Things in the measure The Warren, where bunnies werk Alla Us Togedder for the Good Obba Warren. We do not reward stuff that, inna long run, is gonna endanger Alla Us Togedder. That would be Plain Stoopit! But sumstimes, hoomins seem to reward whut bunnies would regard as "Neggytive Behaviours" or Wrong Thingsl Just this week inna Noospapers Maman and I have read and seen:

• A woman whose husband admitted he stole millions of dollars of munny, loudly proclaiming her "right" to retain control of the fruits of his fraud.
• A woman who gave birth to 14 children for whom she couldn't provide, admit she gave birth to them so they could assume the impossible task to "fill the void" within her, and that, although she doesn't hexpect ennybunny to materially provide for her children, she accepts gifts, sponsorships, handouts, tax-dollars, grants, donations, proposals, and... 
• Two faux-pale-haired females who write/speak in the style of ill-mannered, socially maladjusted school-girls about a third female (who doesn't share their views). These two faux-pale-haired females, furthermore, have the audacity to presume to speak/write as members of a national political party most of whose members they have never met, and whose views they cannot possibly hope (think of the sheer logistics!) to know.   

And alla these hoomins are being rewarded for doing the Wrong Things!

• The woman whose husband admits he indulged inna inelegant Confidence Swindle is there swanning about like royalty, flagrantly spending udder hoomins' munny (that's "Stealing")
• The emotionally vampiristic Octomom is showing off "her" house wiffa pond inna middle obba bafroom floor, cribs, cosmetics, and everyfing else she finks she wants/deserves and axting for more (which is "Being Greedy")
• While the two "pun-ditz"/"Conservative Reublicans" trash somebun who doesn't share their "views" because they say she isn't skinny enough or preddy enough to share their narrow views (which is "Being Envious") and they are taking sumbunny's munny to write/say such rubbish (which is probably sum form of "Stealing") and are Behaving Stoopitly, (which although it isn't listed as enny form of wrong-doing, probably should be!) alla'round the public media!

Do you know that inna Lagmorphic Society, each of these critters would be marginalised? Yeah, onna'count obba fakt Stealing, Being Greedy, and Being Envious are considered Not Behaving For The Good Obba Warren. And We Can't be Habbin' With That!

So ennyways...

Afta reading a liddle more, Maman tured away frumma 'puter and said to me,

"Do you know whut? I hate pollyticks. And I can't stand peroxide-breathing, pet-skinning, pseudo-intellectual cocktailistas who wrestle naked in the ethical gutter - no mind, no morals, no manners. However if these are the quality of people 'The People' are watching, then 'The People' are watching entirely the wrong people...and we really need to move to that Desert Island, George!"

And here I thought we were moovin' to Western Pennsylvania, or mebbe Uppystate Noo Yawk...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 2:28 PM EDT

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Maman and I read noospapers onna 'puter very early every morning, and we read Noos frum Inkland, furst, onna'count obba Fakt they wake up before we do.

And Maman is very fond of reading Theatre Noos because a Very Long Time Ago that wassa big part of her life and she bemembers the Good Parts and likes to tell us abouddit because that is part of her Lore that makes her Who She Is. Sumtimes it's innerestin', but usually, I just sleep through this part obba Sunday Morning reading onna'count obba Fakt bunnies don't go toda "Theatre", but today sumfing caught my 'tenshun that makes me fink I might wanna go and see.

There issa noo play that is opening some place called "The West End". Maman says this is in London, which is in Inkland, where alotta rilly good (which means "profitable" Maman says) shows seem to come frum. This show is called "War Horse" and Maman told me she finks this is going to be the Nextest Big Thing to come to Broadway in Noo Yawk, or it Should Be.

Because the actual star of "War Horse" issa horse named Joey.

Well, Maman said, actually the show issn't a real show like everybunny is used to onna'stage, it's a puppet show. 

And that makes "War Horse" and especially the star, Joey pretty unique. 

Maman said that Joey would pretty much have to be a puppet, or sumfing, because while there are real horses who are actors in films and such, most critters don't like being onna reg'lar stage for enny extended period of time onna'count obba hot lights, cramped spaces, overwhelming tension and weird smells. Maman says add in loud noises coming frumma "orchestra pit" and most four-foots (and menny two-foots) just lose their minds. She said "Reality is only ever relative inna theatre atta best of times."

And then she told me about sum "rilly negative hext'speriences" she had with horses and udder critters on-stage, 'specially every time she managed to be ennywhere near sum production called "I.E.Da" by a guy named "Joe Green" She said to me,

"Face it, when twelve hundred pounds of someone isn't happy, and they express this unhappiness inna very physical and perfectly authentic animalistic modality on-stage, there is no happiness for anyone connected with the production."  

Which I sus'pose is troo.

So in order to tell the story of Joey in "War Horse" the guys that imagined it assa show saw it a puppetshow. And Maman says that Joey's story is extryordinary, so extryordinary that a extryordinary way hadda be imagined to tell it. Because Joey, the horse, got caught up inna terrible stoopit tragedy hoomins call World War One.

And Maman told me that most hoomins had fortygetted World War One, that it was mostly a Historian's War, in that the only ones innerested in knowing abouddit were Historians. But reg'lar hoomins shouldn't fortyget it.

And I was like, "Well, bemembering the Lore is allus important. That's whut Hunny told me when he passed the Lore on to me when I wassa Youngbun. He said, 'You are too young to know, but I am too much obba Senior Bun not to tell you'. And so he did and that's how-come I get to hang on toda Lore and tell abouddit."

And Maman nodded and said that World War One was 'portant because it wassa Furst-and-Last War. It was the Furst conflict to involve almost everybunny, everywheres and it wassa Furst  hoomin conflict to employ huge technological advancements, like airplanes, automatic weapons, tanks, communications, internal combustion engines and bio-chemical warfare to the detriment of Society and the Environment - and it was the Last hoomin conflict to be fought the way wars had always been fought before, face-to-face, person-to-person. It was the line where the Past met the Future - one of the few places where the edges of History gets stitched togedder and alla seams show - and where if you turn one way, you can look back to see What Was and if you turn the other, you can see forward to What Will Be with terrible certainty.

And Maman said that horses stood on this dividing line, looking backwards and looking forwards, and still Followed Their Hoomins. They didn't take enny "sides" inna political dispute, and they didn't choose who was "right" frum "wrong". They followed and they loved and the "sides" didn't matter.

And I was, like, "Well, of course not. Whut Concerns Us issa Warren, or the Herd, or the Pack, or the Chowder - the welfare of Alla Us Togedder."

And Maman nodded and said that World War Too was unlike World War One. World War Too was alla'bout Alla Us Togedder, anna clear battle of "Good-against-Evil"; that the names "Auschwitz" and "Majdanek" remain forever as testimony to the reality of Evil at work inna werld. But World War One, she said, was about ideas and abstractions and that critters just followed their hoomins, and loved them and trusted them and then ran uppa'gainst the technology of a Future that nobunny even suspeckted existed, and so they were all betrayed.

And I was, like, "Whoa."

And I sat onna futon and I hadda short fink abouddit and then I axted Maman, "So sumbunny has put alla those ideas onna stage with puppets?"

And Maman said, "Well, apparently. Look, read the review here in today's Times Online. It tells all about it."  

So I looked up at her and axted, "Issat The Noo Yawk Times?"

And Maman looked at me and blinked, and she's, like, "George, there is only One 'Times' and that's the Times of London. All other 'Times' are imposters. Ask your Dadda and he'll tell you the same."

So, when Maman gets that tone in her voice, I figgered I wouldn't push the matter, lemme tell you!  

But I do fink I would like to go and see the story of Joey, the War Horse who stood onna seams of history. And I think I would like to go and see puppets, even though I am not too sure Whut They Do or how They Do It.

Onna'count obba Fakt that it seems to me, that even though World War One is not part of Our Lore and even though Joey the War Horse was never part of Our Warren, his story is still important to be Bemembered Here at Our Warren. Everybun's Lore touches everybunny else's Lore at one point or anudder. We are all part of Alla Us Togedder, so that What Touches Wun, eventually touches All sumwhere along the seams. So mebbe it only appears that alla different Lores are all seperate frum each udder, differing by kind. I do not believe that they differ so much in importance, because like Hunny told me,

"Unless we know where we've been, how can we know where we're going?"

So I fink I want to know more about War Horse.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:55 AM EDT

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So this morning, I was sitting onna Futon in Maman's Study and Missy was walking around the edges obba room, making sure alla Our Hext'scape Routes were clear of Vines And Rocks...

Now Maman says there are no Vines and Rocks in her Study, that alla things that Missy says are Vines are "rilly" 'Puter Power Cabulls and 'Lektrick Lines, and alla fings Missy calls Rocks are "rilly" Buks...

But Missy says alla that's Not Troo! And even if it Was Troo - which it issn't - Missy would still have to clear alla that stuff outta the way fromma sides obba room along the walls, onna'count obba Fakt wunna The Most Important Rools for Living Inna Unnerground Warren is that you Have To Keep Alla Tunnels and Hext'scape Routes Clear of Things You Might Fall Over Inna'Mergency! Because when you are running for your life, you can't take the time to worry about fings that might make you trip and fall over - so it is Important for Wun Bunny to Always Make Sure that alla Hext-scape Routes, alla'round enny room or burrow, are clean and clear!  

Which was Whut Missy Was Doing This Morning.

And I was sitting onna futon, keeping an eye on Our Terrytory and helping Maman read the Morning Noospapers - which is Whut I Do.

So along comes Cokie-the-Fat-Cat. And he's been in Dadda's Office nextest door with Beep-the-Udder-Cat (even though Dadda is off werking At Werk), not doing ennyfing, which is Pretty Much Whut Catz Do Alla Time, Ennyways. They are famous for their abilities in that departmint.

So Cokie sits down nextest to Maman's chair and starts to chirp.

And Maman says (in her "Lookit-the-cute-kitty" voice), "So whuttsamatta with Maman's baby-cat?"

Which issa rilly dumb fing to say to 39 lbs. of lazy, smelly Maine Coon male cat, but there-you-are. Maman says its important to love everybun just-as-they-are, inklooding catz. Sumtimes, though, it goes a bit better if you squint your eyes, close your nostrils and fold your ears down tight.

And Cokie starts purring, because that's been part of his Cute since Dadda called him a "Fat Furry-Purry" and Maman thought that wassa "Cutest fing she'd every heard!" (so you know she doesn't get out much).

So Maman says to Cokie, "Is something the matter?"

And Missy stops shuffling along the walls long enough to wrinkle up her nose and call over, "Yeah. The cat stinks! Can't you give him a baf or send him to Da Spa or sumfing?"

And Cokie looks up at Maman and goes, "Yerowlp"

Just like that.

Well, Maman doesn't speak "Feline." Few people do and Maman isn't wun of them. So she leans over and hassa look atta Kitty Chow Area (which issa nice orange tray with three bowls onnit - and I do mean that tray is orange! Onna rose-coloured oriental rug, there is no way you can miss this tray! It sticks out like a pootie inna pancake.)

And Maman says, "Well, there's food in your bowl, Cokie."

And Cokie looks up at her with great big, wide eyes and says, "Yerowlp!" again, wif feeling.

And Maman's puzzled, so she looks at me.

Well, I don't speak Feline, either and I make a habit obbit it.

And over beside the buk-case, Missy lifts up her head again, looks towards Maman and shouts,

"Hey! Can't you smell him? It's like hare-pollution over here!"

And Maman leans over further and then looks down at Cokie and says, "Well, you've got water, too, so what's your problem, Puddy?"

And Cokie goes, "Yerlowp!"

Only more urgently - which I assume changes the goalposts in Feline.

So Maman gets up outta her chair and she says to the Cat,

"Well, show me."

So Cokie (who knows preddy good Inkwish, although he doesn't admit it) shambles off with his tail straight up like a directional plume, and Maman follows him innu Dadda's Office. And I hop down offa futon and follow along, because wherever Maman goes, there might be Treats invovled - and Missy flollows along because Missy never misses any chance there even might the be the fainest chance obba Treat..

So the kitty-Maman-houzrabbit parade comes to a halt in Dadda's Office where there's a window, then Dadda's futon (with Beep-the-Udder-Cat reclining onna back obbit) and then the BunPen that has been set up onna floor, just in front obba futon.

And there's this great, big, wide swatch of SunShine, beaming inna window, flowing down over Dadda's futon (with Beep reclining onna back obbit) and that just about fills the whole BunPen with bright sunbeams, so that there's just a thin sliver of it spilling out onna carpet nextest to the BunPen.

And Coke sorta collapses innu the sliver of SunShine that's spilled outta the BunPen on to the carpet and lies there with his paws up inna air, and looks at Maman uppyside-down and says,

"Yerlowp?"

Which I take to mean, "See? Look! There's this whole great, big, wide swath of SunShine just pouring in through the window over there, and I don't fit up onna back obba futon where Beep is soaking up a lotta it (mainly because I'm too fat and will fall off) - and I can't get innu the BunPen to grab enny of what's filling up that (because there is no door), so all I can find to sit in is this tiny sliver of SunShine that doesn't even cover a third of my body! This is NOT FAIR! You're a hoomin! Fix it so I can have an Entire SunBeam! DO SOMETHING, WILL YA?"

And Maman, being Maman, is standing there in her bafrobe, and she looks atta Cokie-Cat, and she says, "So whuttawant me to do? I can't make you any skinnier!"

And Cokie kind of rolls over (which is kinda like watching cranberry sauce roll around outta the can), digs in his paws and pushes against the BunPen, and it like moves a couple of inches backward, till it smooshes against the wall. 

And Missy's behind me and she's like, "Oh no! I can't be habbin' wif dat! I can't move it! That's an obstacle and it can't stay there! No. No Way!" 

And Maman looks at Cokie and says, "And that's what you called me out here for - to move the BunPen for you so you could have a SunBeam?"

And Cokie says, "Yerowlp!" again, which is kind of what he said the Furst Time, when Maman didn't unnerstand him, either.

And Maman shakes her head and leads the parade back innu her Study. And Cokie hastily turns himself upright and scrambles afta us.

So Maman goes back to sitting in her chair and I axt to be lifted up to sit onna futon again (And Maman's like, "Why didn't you axt me before I sat down? Other rabbits hop, George. Why am I picking you up and setting you on the futon? Tell me - why?" And I'm finking, "Because of bunny-mind-control, but I'm not gonna tell you that, am I?") 

So Cokie sits down in front of Maman again and goes, "Yerlowp?"

And Maman says, "No. I can't move the BunPen. It's too heavy. If you can't fit into any of the sunbeams up here, there are the same sunbeams coming into the LivingRoom  downstairs - unless the Dawg is occupying all of them. Go down there, have a look and see if you can work something out with him. Otherwise, wait until your Father gets home and complain to him."

So Cokie-da-Fat-Cat heaved a Huge Sigh of Feline Resignation (there is none other like it, as everybun knows) and stumped off back innu Dadda's Office. Then a liddle later on, I heard him headed downnastairs, so I guess he was gonna go see iffa Dawg would ne-go-sheate with him over a patch of sunbeams inna Living Room or sumplace. 

I dunno how that went. I was too busy reading the noos with Maman. 

At least I know my and Missy's sunbeams are safe. They come to Our Habitat right about Aftanoon, and Cokie issn't allowed inna BunRoom onna'count obba Fakt da Dawg has this Rool about "No Catz Inna Bun Room!" and you know how Border Collies are about "rools"...

Yeah!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 5:06 PM EDT

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Hey! I'm waving to alla our Noo Inkland Cousins at Furkids Flats!

Wow! You know, Alla Us Togedder have never been to Noo Inkland, but just last nite Maman was talking aboud that place while she, Dadda and Phil were all inna Dining Room, Having Dinner.

Mebbe I shuld hextplain that the Dining Room is not far away frumma Kitchen, which issa room next toda BunRoom, and almost every single night, Maman, Dadda and Phil all pull uppa chairs around the big table inna Dining Room and eat food there. It's like habbin' crocks, just all in one place, around a table. Dadda calls it "Tea" and Maman and Phil call it "Dinner", although sumtimes when he's piling it innu plates, Phil just shouts out "FOOD!", so mebbe that's Whut It's Called. And mostly, Maman cooks alla food, but sumtimes it's Dadda or Phil that cooks, and then again, once inna while, the doorbell rings, da Dawg goes nutz and then a pizza turns up, so you just nebber know hextcept whutebber it is, the Three of Them sit around the table and eat Togedder like inna Warren.

Which makes them a liddle bit like Alla Us Togedder. 

But eating a cooked meal alla'round a table issa hoomin fing, although da Dawg says it can become a dawg-fing if He Gets Lucky and sumbunny leaves sumfing on their plates. Dadda says that iffa Dawg hassit, then it's not "wasting good food" onna'count obba Fakt the food is going innu the Dawg.

Cokie the Fat-Cat says the eating-a-cooked-meal-alla'round-a-table can also turn innu a Cat-fing if there is chikin involved. And if Cokie smells chikin, he comes tumblin' downnastairs frum his 'Partmint so that he can soopervise and bemind ebberybun that there issa Starvin' Giant-sized Cat inna Houz. Dadda says he gets sik ob playin' "Whack-a-mole" ober chikin nuggets and wunna these days he's gonna bemember to stuff a certin fat-cat inna closet till Tea is ober - but as usual, Dadda is just talkin' - even if he did stuff Cokie-inna-closet, Maman would just feel sorry for Cokie and let him out. And probably give him a chikin nugget just onna'count obba Fakt he got innu a closet inna Furst Place.

We bunnies usually get in onna preppyrashuns onna'count obba Fakt Maman gives us a share obba veggytubbles-due-joor bifore she cooks them. The bestest times are during hollydays when we can score strange and innerestin' froots and stuff, although sumtimes hollydays can become a lottery, too, like when Missy and I each gotta slice ob this stuff called "can't elope" - which wassa real slice ob "mystery froot", lemme tell you!

So Lastest Night there was Leek-and-Tattie Soup, and Cokie anna Dawg bof got their Bites o' Chikin (but we didn't get enny leeks, which wassa preddy good fing onna'count obba Fakt, Wow! Did they ebber stink! Yeah. We all turned them down when Maman offered them, but if you wanna stinky veggytubble, then leeks are for you. The Houz smelled ob them for hours afta the whole dinner-biznizz was over and still stinks this morning. Yuck!). So we each hadda Baby Organic Carrot, instead. 

Ennyways...

Lastest night there was Leek-and-Tattie Soup, which Maman says is dead easy to make, and Phil brought up the whole Moovin' Ishoo again. Right atta momint, we are Not Moovin', Maman says, onna'count obba "Mawkit tankin'" (whutebber that means!) and Dadda says he is "Questionin' the wizdum" of Western Pennsylvania "all-togedder" (whutebber that means!) and Phil says, "Well, you know, there are udder places inna werld, like Noo Inkland."

And Maman was like, "Where have you ebber been in Noo Inkland?"

And Phil was like, "Well, our Cuzzins' Houz in Con-net-ticket, for wun thing. That was pretty nice, especially the way Jack did that pool and the gardens and everything. And Bim (that is Maman's Dadda, Phil's Granddadda) took me to The Manse in Newport where he lived in Rhode Island and over to what's-his-name's - his friend's house, and then we called on some old lady he knew from when he was a kid and that was great."  

And Maman sed there wassa whole lot more to Noo Inkland than up-mawkit beds-and-brekfasts and "Marble Palaces". Then she said that Nooport was ruined by the Bridge that replaced the Fairy, and a lotta good stuff had changed there since she wassa liddle gurl, growing up (which was long bifore Phil!). She sed she bemembered the lastest time she was in Nooport - that she was sixteen years old anna Eagle was there, riding at anchor inna middle ob Narryganset Bay onna bloo wadder like a great white bird-ob-prey. And she and her friend (who wassa daughter of Bim's friend) figgered out how they could put on rilly pretty dresses, comb out their rilly long hair and ride back-and-forth across the Bay onna Fairy for the whole Summer aftanoon and wave to the "cadets" in uniforms who were all onna Eagle...

And alla sudden, Phil piped up and hextclaimed, "Oh my Gawd, Ma! Don't tell me you actually talked to one of those cadets!"

And Maman was, like, "Yes I did. We ran innu two of them aftawards while we were shopping on Thames Street. They were officer-cadets..."

And Phil kinda gasped and then we heard him moan, "Oh Ma! No! I can't believe you stooped so low!"

And Maman said, "Lookit, The Eagle is a beautiful, historic Tall Ship, Phil, and she's a training vessel..."

And Phil finished for her, "Yeah, I know. But she's not Navy. She's Coast Guard, Ma! I can't believe it! You almost went out with one of the Ladies of the Coast Guard! Oh my Gawd. Wait. I need another drink."

And he came out innu the BunRoom, opined the Salad Bank and poured himself anudder glass ob milk. And afta he put away the milk-jug, he bent down, opined Mr Mouse's habbytat and peered inside.

And Mouse swung his head around and grunted at him, like, "Don't you dare pull my tail, buster!"

And Phil said, "Mouse, you don't know how lucky we are!"

And Mouse gave him the suspicious ear-twitch (because you can nebber tell when Phil is gonna hab you on) and he was like, "Whut?"

And Phil said, "We could have been Coast Guard!"

Then he closed Mouse's habbytat, stood up and said so Maman and Dadda could hear him inna Dining Room, "So moovin' to Rhode Island is out. How about Con-net-ticket?"

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:30 AM EST

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Well, hokay, guess I got told.

Dis morning MissyBun came up to me and said, "Lookit, George. I can't be habbin' wif dis."

And I look around, notice I'm not doing ennyfing in particular hexcept eating a few Green Bag pellets, and so I'm, like, "Can't be habbin wif whut?"

And she plants herself in frunt of me with her ears standing out horryzonally frum her head and she's, like, "Wif you not typin The Hay Diaries. You're lettin' Belinda's whole blog go away and her blog wassa Berry Furst Blog by a HouzRabbit onna whole Innernet, ever. And she left it to you and you're lettin' her down and I can't be habbin' wif dat onna'count obba Fakt she wouldn't be habbin' wiffit!"

So I had sum hay and hadda Fink and - wouldn't you know it? - Missy was more or less right (although axtchually "telling" her that she is Right is just gonna cause more trubble than it's worf, so I'm not gonna say ennyfing except here where she might not read it, but then again, she might - you nebber know...)

But Missy was Right, and I have been letting Belinda down, and Belinda wassa Furst Bunny to welcome me innu Our Warren when I wassa Very Small White Bunny, all OnAlone inna cardboard box onna'count obba Fakt I wassa Easter Dump. And I can't let criticism frumma bad-tempered drunk and betrayal by a so-called "friend" to hurt my feelings so that I let down my bestbeloved Belinda and stop typin' in her blog, you know? 

"When pooties stink, you kick them outta the litterbox and start bugging Dadda for a cleanout." Missy says, and then she does *footflicks* and stuff just flies ebberywheres.

She hassa way of getting stuff done when she wants it.

 Which issa lot like KayCee Kitty, who is the Empress of Phil's Chowder ob Five that moved in with him afta he hurt his knee rilly, rilly bad again.

Now, inna Beginning, KayCee came frum wunna those PetSmart Rescue Days and that was when Phil was twelve years old. He's twenty-five now, so you can figger out how old she is, onna'count obba Fakt she is Sensative About Her Age. Let's just say that I don't bemember back that far onna'count obba Fakt I wasn't born when KayCee arrived in Our Warren. That was sort of around the same time as me,Hunny and Heatherington and Maggie were the onliest bunnies inna Warren, inna Very Beginning.

Hokay. I have not told you how old KayCee is. 

Ennyways...

Just lately, KayCee has taken to sitting atta top obba stairs to Phil's place and she has taken to calling, just like she did when Phil went away innu the Navy. And she hassa very loud call. Very what-you'd-call a persist-ant call, too, in that she can keep up callin' "Philowl! Philowl! Philowl!" for like an hour or more atta time. Yeah! Whereas when Phil was inna Navy, she would just call for, like, a half-an-hour and then gave it up and crawl innu bed wif Maman and go to sleep. Now she just wants to call and call and call!

And it's driving ebberybun nutz. 

For no reason at all she just sits atta top obba stairs and calls out, "Philowl! Philowl! Philowl!" for, like, ebber and nobunny can figger out Whut She Wants.

Because Phil is not inna Navy ennymore. Maman says he issa Vet and we all know that's a bad werd, but apparently not if you are Phil. He doesn't stick needles in you, and he doesn't talk about "taking temperatures" and he doesn't pull your lips up to look in your mouth. These are all good things points (he does occasionally pull your tail and say, "Bunny butt!" which rilly makes Mr Mouse angry, but that's about it for being 'nnoying. Now udder "vets" where you go for those "Well-Bunny Check-Ups" - yeah, now we're talkin' needles-inna-butt, anna whole nine-yards ob humillyashun-inna-name-ob-"Its-good-fer-you", which issa crock if I ebber heard wun, but...).

So  KayCee sits onna stairs and is yeowling, "Philowl! Philowl! Philowl!" and so Maman calls to her and says fings like, "Whuttsamatta wif my poor liddle KayCee Kitty-cat?"

And KayCee will shut up for a minit, and then she'll start again wif, "Philowl! Philowl!" and that will go on, until Da Dawg goes over to the door and lies down with his nose pressed up against it. And then Dadda says to Maman,

"Lookit, da Dawg is getting 'd-mail'!" and he'll laugh, but KayCee will go on yellin', "Philowl! Philowl! Philowl!"

And then Maman opins the door and KayCee parades uppystairs wif her tail waving like a flag, but she still doesn't shut up. She goes innu ebbery single room calling out, "Philowl! Philowl! Philowl!" even while she's parading right past Phil!

And you can tell Phil's embarassed by her onna'count obba Fakt he scoops her up and axts her, "Whuttsamatter wif my gurl, huh?" and then tells Maman, "You give in too easy, Ma. There's nothing wrong with her. She just wants to be up here so she can own it."

And Maman grumbles to us, "Easy for him to say! Poor kitty-child wants to live as nicely as the bunnies."

And we're, like, "That is not a 'poor kitty' at all! That issa spoilt princess priss that wants to eat our hay!"

But you know, I don't fink it's ebben the hay that innerests KayCee (although she does come in and eat it, and then she goes to lie onna sofa where Mouse watches "Law  Order" with Maman!).

Nope.

Know whut I fink? I fink alla dat calling "Philowl! Philowl!" issa lot like Missy's quoting Belinda's "I can't be habbin wif dis!" and making her ears stand out horryzonally frum her head. It is to Get Whut She Wants.

Yeah. It's Whut Gurls Do. 

Onna'count obba Fakt KayCee and Missy are both Gurls and they both hab figgered out that it issa lot easier forda rest ob us to give in and just Do Whut They Want than it is to Sit Around and Try To Guess Why they are doing Whut They Are Doing. And they can keep up Doing Whut They Are Doing a lot longer than most ob us can Sit Around and Wonder.

Lemme tell you.

So when Missy says, "I can't be habbin wif dis..." no matter whut "dis" happins to be that she can't be habbin' wif, I make sure I fix it, right away. Onna'count obba Fakt, I can't be habbin wif Missy not habbin' wif sumfing!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 1:51 PM EST

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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

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

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

Hokay, so heer is Whut Happined...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How do you hextplain Nuthin'?.

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Our Warren at 11:46 AM EDT

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

Yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's Whut He Does.

But not this time.

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

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

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

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

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

And Dadda said, "Whut's noo?"

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

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

Anna Cat was, like, "Yerheeeelllllp!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Maman sed, "Whut?"

And Dadda sed, "Like eating peanuts."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that's preddy much Whut Happined Tiday.

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

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

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:27 PM EDT

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