Mood:  energetic

So, like George told me, I taked the weekend off to play onna ScreenPorch and 'noy the Catz.

It akchually does help ennertain you to bother Catz! All you gotta do is to lift your tail, pull up your ears and stick out your nose inna threatenin' manner and Wow! They walk around you, lookin' outta the corners of their eyes like you wuzza Ghost ob Gonna-Bite-Your-Butt-Now! <bunny chuckle>

The onliest fing wrong wif being onna ScreenPorch is that I seemed to either be IN a pen, or the Container Garden was in a pen.

Whut's up wiffat? Why putta Garden inna pen? Issa garden gonna make a break for it? Issit gonna take off and fly away through the screens? There isn't enny door or ennyfing toda Outside, so it's not like the Garden could hextkape, even if it wanted to - but Maman hadda x-pen around it like it hadda be jailed or sumfing!

Whut did it do to deserve bein' penned?

I mean, I NEEDED to get innu that Garden! I NEEDED to see those micro-greens, basil, and both kinds of parsley growing there! And I would not have minded having a look innu whut's being billed as "lettuce" but that right now looks like dirt. There are also some RILLY yummy-looking baskits in there that are calling my name - but I couldn't get innu 'em.

Whut's up wiff'at?

And there is this big, huge, beyond ginormous plant with white flag things coming outta it that Maman calls "Auntie Laura's Plant" (cos 'parently, she bringed it!). That's penned up in there, too. Dadda said it hasta be divided this year, cos it has got too big. Maman care barely drag it around.

Fing is, I wanna look att'it! Whut iz it? Issit toothsome? Is it nice? Is it bunny-licious? Is Maman holdin' out on me? BUNNIES NEED TO KNOW!

Now George didn't have much inna way ob Curyosity going on. He was preddy content to sit onna sofa and sleep, or sit inna sunbeam and sleep - or do whuteva and sleep.

But I am ME, and I amma Lop, and I have Energee wiffa lotta emphasis onna "gee" part. I'm like "Gee, I should habba look at this!" or "Gee, how come I haven't had a taste of that?" or "Gee, whut would happin if I..." You know? Maman sed she hasn't hadda Youngbun around, "Large and in-Charge", in awhile - but that's an hextcuse. Fact is, George was easy-peasy and she got used to it.

So now I gotta wait for NEXTEST weekend to hextplore the ScreenPorch wiffout being watched all through "Playtime". During the week, I get watched onna'count obba Fakt Dadda is werkin' and Maman has nuthin' bedda to do or sumfing. But she does Laundry onna weekend and comes and goes and bunnies can get sum werk done of their own, if they pre-plan and get organized. Yeah, I'm innu that! Fox sed I'm gonna get my butt hauled back innu habbytat-jail, but mostly on weekends is when my habbytat is gettin' cleaned, so not much werry there.

I fink I'm going to give the whole "Bunny Mind Control" fing a shot. George sed Hunny told him abouddit. "Bunny Mind Control" is when da bunny convinces the hoomin that the hare-brained idea that just bloomed in their own hed is their own idea! Mebbe I can figger out how to convince Maman and Dadda not to pen inna Garden dis time. All I gotta do is make them fink it's THEIR idea! I fink I can do it - if I start now - cos I NEED to see Fings in that Garden!

Frum your friend at Our Warren - Dusty =:3 <paw-waves to Auntie Carla!>

Posted by Our Warren at 11:19 AM EDT

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Mood:  quizzical

So, like, here's da fing: George always sat on Maman's lap and read the morning Noos wif her.

Seems great, huh? Yeah. Well, let me let'cha in onna liddle sekret: she petted his ears and he went to sleep!

Because basically, The Noos isn't that inner-restin'. It is preddy much All-Hoomin, alla-time (and I'm even talkin' aboutta "Daily Mail Online" which is about as hextcitin' as it gets, whut wif stories just tossed up there, the-more-the-merrier style). Ya got'cher murder, yer mayham, yer basic inhoomanity; wars breakin' out here, sum nut-job passin' out rocket-launchers there and pictures of breasts. (I thought all humans had breasts, sum werkin', sum inoperative and sum used to almost hold up "dresses", so whut's up wif that?) It's all the same tired old stuff with dif'frunt headlines on top.

So ennyways, Maman thought I was gonna be a lap-bunny like George, but wow, you know, I am waaaaaaay too bizzy for that!

For one fing, she has pockits in her bafrobe! And there's stuff inn'em! Well, the onliest way to discover stuff is to go lookin' for it. If you don't look, you won't find - and if you don't find, well, you could end up missing a meal. (I am NOT stoopit!)

So I taked the Smart Opshun and began lookin' in her pockits. I could only get my hed in, which was kind of a disappointment, because it meant I could get my hed in, but backing out required a LOT of scrabblin' around, which apparently was "disruptive". Whuteva!

So I got told to "Sit still".

That's not in my hextensive vocabulary of "Unner'stood Werds". It's onna nudder list, right there next to "Begud" and "Stopdat" unner the headin', "Werds Wifout Meanings".

So I sitted on her lap and tried lookin' atta Noos again. But, like I said, it's so hoomin-centric! Like I care! No wonder George went to sleep - now there was wun smart bunny! He lifted an ear when Maman sed sumfing and was quick enough to pick up on her tone, so of course she thought he was agreeing wif her!

He also told me she shared sumfing called "breakfast" that was sort of treat-like, but she hadda liddle accident lastest week in alla rain and damaged a rib or sumfing and so she doesn't "feel like eatin'" - which sucks frum my point-ob-view. I mean, I'm still hungry even if she isn't, ya know? But that's Maman all over - other hoomins "comfort eat" when they are upset. She does the opposit! Figgers!

So ennyways, I got bored and tried to have a look inna udder pocket. Yeah and I almost got stuck in there, too. Seems my butt might be bigger than I thought. Then I tried lookin' atta Noos again, but - What A BORE!

Haven't hoomins noticed yet whut bunnies have allus known? DON'T ACT STOOPIT! If sumfing looks like it's gonna get dangerous - RUN AWAY! Running away has saved more lives than fighting! In fact, the faster you can run away, usually the safer you are, so practice running away.

Do not mess wif GUNS. They want to be shot. That's why they exist. Unless you unner'stand 'em, leave them alone cos they are not for YOU!

And teach dis rilly basic stuff to kits because they are not born 'Tellygint. They only get 'Tellygint frum watchin' you and if you are NOT actin' 'Tellygint to begin wif... guess whut?

So I looked in Maman's cup, but it only had coffee (yuck). Then I was gonna hextplore her desk, but she called me a "wiggle-worm" and carried me back out to my habbytat. (sulk)

But she did put in a nice salad: sum microgreens, sum basil, two bits of carrot anna slice of appul.

Then she looked at me, sighed and said, "So I guess yer not gonna be yer 'basic bunny'."

And I looked up for a sekond (cos I had my mouf full and was busy chewin') and gived her a wink.

Nope, not yer Basic Bunny at all!

Frum yer friend at Our Warren, Dusty =:3

Posted by Our Warren at 10:01 AM EDT

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Mood:  hug me

I can't believe George has gone an' dun it, you know? Left for da Rainbow Bridge ad left just me an' Fox here at Our Warren with Maman (weepin) and Dadda (bearin' up). I mean, George was only nine. Usually bunnies stay at Our Warren until they are like 10 or 12 years old. Hunny was 13.5 years old!

I know George was sad. I mean, afta Missy left, alla fight went outta him. So Maman and Dadda went over to Dr Sharin's where she hassa boat-load of rescued bunnies, and sure enough, she had The Duchess of Crosswicks, Comet, who was as black as George was white. And she had lost her bondamte, Brian, and was sad, too, so she and George reached an agreemint, to be each odders' Best Buddy.

And they rode out da hurrycane shoulder-to-shoulder while Dadda ran the pumps an genneryraytor all night and Maman sat and listened to the wind trying to pull down the trees outta the back Garden. And Maman axted George why Hurrycans allus seemed to come at night, but he didn't know eidder. But they sat togedder and pondered in case the roof blew off (which it didn't).

And then real sudden, Ms Comet hadda heart attck a couplea months later. She crossed heer at home. We were all very sad. But Dr Sharin said she enjoyed being "1 of 4" instead of "1 of 50", cos she got presonalized salads every evening, an' hed her had own peronsal treat-bag - fings Dr Sharin dosn't allus have time to hand out with fifty bunnies-in-need and exry carers comin' in. She said Comet was livin The Dream - her own screenPorch, local hay, delivered Greenbag, cats to 'noy anna Dawg to appeal to, and she got reg'lar well-bunny checkups at Chsterfield Veterinary Clinic on Rout 206 and 'Mergency hospial care with Doctor Doolan at NorthStarVETS just up the road.

Both Doctors saw George. And both treated him aggresively. They had known George from he was poor abandoned litttle baby-bunny in the cardboard box that no one wanted. and ome unccaring local vetwho was going to put to sleep if Maman "kept him hanging round, waitin." Maman rushed over to that place, showed her ID and scooped up George.

Poor guy, he had ever seen a letuce leaf and he hought Blinda, who was old and sick with cancer, was his mawie. He was sad little bbaby a furst who didn't knw what to make of his his noo home.

But he grew innu it.When Hunny left for the bridg in 2005 (and Maman blames bloodyminded sister for damages to a house not own in exress of $10,000, steaing documented property in excess of $34,000, defrauding a vulnerale person, assult, trespass and making her move Hunny out of his warm, secure home, thus causing his deah. That anger won't go away - EVER!)

Then while Maman wept. Gentle George took over the Hay Diaries.

He told me he Lore - the Blog was begun by Belinda as a writing Exercise that go out of had, then served as a dsicipline exerside. And then it lay "fallow: while Georg and Maman woked on a big book. The book isn't finished yet, but I axted maman if I could have time gettn' up to Geprge-speed. I need to learn his focus, unerstadnd the Lore of the Lagomorphs, and get inside of his head and the udder bunnies heads who all play big parts in the book. There are 25 major characters and at least 20 who appear more than once. I got my werk cut out fer me - and it's wrtten in mamam's "Good English", not rabbt-speak!!

So I gotta lotta catchin' up to do. I wanna make George proud of me.I got Big Feets to Fill, lemme tell you! But I'm gonna do it! I'm a lop and we take these things serriusly!

So this is the Seventh Strand and I am Dusty, grey-and -white lop, and I am the noo keeper obba blog.

Every Ending brings a noo beginning, although we mite not see it right away - our job is to keep lookin!

By Dusty Bunn

Posted by Our Warren at 5:58 AM EDT

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"Bunnies do not grow old. They grow 'tellygint." - meHunny, Senior Bun of Our Warren.

That was, like, wunna the first bits of advice Hunny told to me afta Maman rescued me frumma veterinarian's office when I wassa young-bun - like about six years ago. Since then, I have done my best to Grow 'Tellygint.

There have been some hiccups along the way. Most of them I've typed about here in The Hay Diaries - which Belinda said I should do, inna innerests of "being honest". Nobunny just becomes 'Tellygint easily. It's a Process. Stuff happins - kinda like pooties. You turn your head, look behind you and there it is - a pootie. I mean, it's not like you get tapped onna head by sum 'Telligint Fairy and all at once ~bang~ your head is suddinly stuffed full of sound judgemint, sage direction and good literature. It doesn't werk that way. 

Nope. You gotta take a few wrong paths, have a few messed up ideas, ocassionally look stoopit, make sum mistakes and just gen'rally screw up royally before you even can start guessing about which is the 'Tellygint way to go about Becoming.

Which brings me to a Noospaper article Maman and I read this morning inna New York Times. You can read the same article here. It is about a party that was held for some of the more Conservative writers and literati-types in Washington, D.C., and one of the points that the author seems to be making is that the Guest-of-Honour, seemed to be rather "inconsistent" in her religious/political views!

Yeah. 

Like, there is something "contradictory" aboudda Fakt that when she was younger, she was a Conservative Muslim lady who wore a hijab when she studied in Kenya, then fled an arranged marriage (!), and that she supported the fatwah against another Muslim author, before she became an atheist. (Her views are her views and she is perfektly free to hold them, as am I to disagree with them. I am, after all, a small white HouseRabbit and she is an internationally-educated author. We are bound not to agree on sum points.)

But, like, well, so? She has obviously changed up her mind on sum issues.

So, is there anything so wrong with that that the author of the noospaper article has to make a point of it? It is not like the Guest-of-Honour is untalented, or has "adopted" a humanitarian crisis in order to exploit it like a pseudo-intellectual pop-video performer. The Guest-of-Honour is a serious artist, capable of growth beyond self-regard.   

It is my opinion that in order to Grow 'Tellygint we make the best choices available to us based upon the information available to us at a given time. I like to believe that this is how the Process of Growing 'Telligent, works: you know, and then you know better. We must have the freedom to be wrong once in awhile, and what we are now might not be, hextactly, what we will become.

So why does the author of the New York Times article seem to be so upset that udder hoomins can grow and change? I believe I would be MORE upset were I to find hoomins incapable of change. Because if nobunny could change, then nobunny could learn, and nobunny could Grow in enny-ways-possible at all! They would become Stuck - like the Stone Warren in Maman's Gardin, forever unable even to scratch their noses or wiggle their ears, always looking like they are about to yet never accomplishing the simplest fing.

In order to Grow 'Tellygint, there has to be Freedom - the Freedom to hextplore the intellect, the Freedom to cultivate and then to hextamin dif'frunt points of view, and along with that, there hasta be the Freedom to move about the Gardin of Thoughts inside your own head. I fink ev'rybun needs the Freedom to evaluate their past and current belief-systems in the bright light of their present hextperiences - to tend their Gardin, so to speak, to weed it, to help it Grow.

And at the same time, it is no good to just hold on to sumfing blindly, without justification, just because. "Because" is no reason for ennyfing, except the passage of that old Illusion called "Time", that hoomins mistake for "old".

The only way to Grow 'Telligint is to axtchually do it - to Move down those Intellectual pathways, and to realise, "whoa, that's the wrong road to take!" and then correct courses; the Freedom to choose, the Freedom to learn, to make mistakes and yes, to be Wrong, the Freedom to be Stoopit.

Onna'count obba Fakt, if we are never Wrong, how will we know Right when we come across it?

So it is hokay, I fink, to continue to Grow 'Telligint. In fakt, I kinda insist onnit - onna'count obba Fakt, if you don't keep moving forward atta preddy rapid rate of knots, you might nebber know whut might be catchin' up behind you!

........................ By George

Posted by Our Warren at 10:38 AM EDT

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Hokay. So this is like, a Hextperimint. Maman and I are trying sumfing Noo.

We are typin' to you while sittin' onna ScreenPorch!

Yeah!

It's aboud'da hunnert degrees in Noo Joisey (not quite, but when you're wearing a fur coat alla time, it feels like it!) so Maman, Foxie, Dusty, the Dawg anna Catz and I are all out here onna ScreenPorch where there are some breezes (and ice-bottles). And the reason we can type inna The Hay Diaries is onna'count obba Fakt that Phil brought Maman a laptop for Mother's Day!

So how cool iss'at?

So we're out here, all connected and ev'ryfing, lemme tell you!

Of course our Auntie Terry knew alla'bout the laptop and it was onna'count ob her that Phil could make it all happin and ev'ryfing, and we are all rilly thrilled and de-lighted (like the lady that backed innu the 'lektrick fan, as Our Bim usta say!) because typin' out onna ScreenPorch issa LOT COOLer than being inna Houz.

Andnot being inna Houz means that we don't have to turn onna Cental Air Conditioner, which means that we are saving Energy, and helping to save the 'Vironmint, too.

Maman wants to save the Air Conditioning for when it gets rilly hot for rilly long, like when it is axtchually Summer, which she says is "Not Yet" (although it feels like it). Just why it is "Not Yet" Summer, when it is like 90-degrees during the day and about 70-degrees at night, and the grass is green, and the roses are blooming, and we're all sittin' out here onna ScreenPorch onna'count obba Fakt it's too hot inna Houz... If that doesn't spell "Summer" to Maman, then I dunno whut does. Sumtimes hoomins are hard to convince obba Obvious.

So here we are with a Noo Laptop, inna breeze, onna ScreenPorch, pretending it's Not Summer Yet! But all the same, it's Preddy Cool...

.......................By George

Posted by Our Warren at 12:30 PM EDT

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Hooboy! Here we go again!

Maman and I still read the Noos. You wonder why sometimes. I know I do, but there's always Tradishun, as Belinda used to tell me and Tradishun is wunna those things you keep doing because you're not sure why, just that it needs doing or the sky will fall...

Or some stuff.

Ennyways, Maman I and were reading the noospapers - specifically The Times (of London - Dadda says there IS no udder Times) and we're only reading it until tomorrow, because afta that, they are going to start charging for reading their web-site and Maman says that she believes inna Freedom Obba Press - meaning, we are free to go elsewhere to read a noospaper and The Times (of London) isn't "all that anna Bag of Chips", which, if they were chips, they might be worth paying for.

So while we were reading, we found this article and you can read it here (for free only until today!). It is about hair - and how it concerns "wimmin obba certain age".

Now "Wimmin Obba Certain Age" is a nice way of mentioning wimmin who are, more or less like Maman, rapidly approaching the age they remember as being their grandmother's. Maman remembers her grandmothers being about her age. The good noos is that she admired both of her Grandmothers. She is not what you'd call "distressed" about the fact that she is getting on toward being their ages, because as Maman sees it, getting older isn't a Negative Thing.

Maman takes preddy literally whut Belinda told me: "You don't grow older, you just grow 'Tellygint."

She is still hopeful about the 'Tellygint part. So am I.

But the article inna noospaper is about hair.

Maman has very long hair. It is pretty much well on it's way to becoming the same colour as mine, which would be mostly white. At various times, she has been told that she should cut it because "Wimmin Obba Certain Age" should "not have long hair" - which is kinda puzzling onna'count obba Fakt that most obba "Wimmin Obba Certain Age" that Maman has known have had long hair that they wore twisted up in various kinds of knots on top of their heads.

Maman even has inherited whut she calls "combs" which are rilly ornaments and such that she sticks in her hair that hold up these twists, knots, braids and (yes, for some reason I don't unnerstand, they are also called) "buns" - that she is now getting to wear, having managed to get to that "Certain Age" where she can wear such things in her hair and not rilly care if they are "fashionable" or not, because they are "heirlooms" that tell a story. It's Tradishun, not Fashion or ennyfing.

And so she wears her hair "up" like her grandmothers and is "obba certain age".

And she said she won't colour her hair, either. She said Phil gave her her grey hairs so she is fond of them. I happen to believe white issa preddy good colour. It goes with most everything and reflects heat. On a 90-degree Memorial Day, I see that assa Bonus.

And speaking of Memorial Day (annuder Tradishun), be sure to Remember those who served and those who are serving in our Armed Services! Take some time out while you're having your picnic to say names in your heart, and then add a name for the Unknowns, so that nobun is ever "forgotten".

Happy Memorial Day, everybunny!

.......................... By George

Posted by Our Warren at 3:41 PM EDT

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As I am sure a lotta you know, we heer at Our Warren cannot declare it is Spring until sumbunny wakes up Wun Morning and decides it is time to sing The Bim Song – which The Lore says was furst discovered by Maman’s Dadda (Phil called him “Bim” which wassa corruption of his name, which was “Bill” – onna’count obba Fakt Phil couldn’t say “m” sounds when he was liddle.) long, long ago when me,Hunny <Senior Bun> joined Our Warren.

And just lately, it seems like it has been a Very Long, Long Winter. Missy went to the Rainbow Bridge - and I can't even begin to tell you about that. No, I can't.

But has been Still Winter heer. And very cold and Dark.

Ennyways, I wassa’bout to go to sleep the udder morning when Maman came cruising past, offering Baby Organic Carrots onna’count ob Nothing.

And I’m like, “Well, hokay. I'll hab wun.”

Onna’count obba Fakt you don’t turn down enny treat no matta how sleepy you might be.

And Right About “then”, as I was eating my carrot and Foxie was sorting around, still looking for hers, Dadda came by and opened uppa ScreenPorch Door! And as soon as he Opened Uppa Door, the Usual Parade started – furst out went Dadda, closely followed by The Dawg, then Cokie skidded around the corner with Beep-the-Udder-Cat close behind.

And that's when I smelled it – that wunnerful, unique smell of rotting veggytation, lingering swamp, and rising worms.

Spring!

It was Spring right out there onna ScreenPorch!

And rilly soon afta that, heer comes Maman, decked out in GardinGlubs and carrying her baskit ob kitchen tools that she uses to rake over alla those containers she uses to plant Herbs in!

So, that wassa Coupla Days ago, and Maman has been out onna ScreenPorch, diggin’ with her kitchen tools ev’ry day. And Dadda anna Dawg have been outside ev’ry day, using big garden rakes and such and consultin’ sum buk called The Farmers’ All-Mens-Nack, which is about right onna’count obba Fakt they are both guys. So there are two raised beds outside that are ready to Grow, hexcept Maman anna All-Mens-Nack said it is too early to “set out” enny lettuce for us yet. So we will have to wait to get Fresh-Frumma-Gardin Lettuce and stuff, but I don't know how long.

Should be soonest, though!

So to get stuff to grow faster, we bunnies are ready now, to sing The Bim Song and declare that it is Spring:

Where da birdies iz?

So, can dandylions be far behind? Lemme know when you see sum! Yum!

Posted by Our Warren at 9:38 AM EDT

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Marc-the-Border-Collie and Cokie-da-Fat-Cat have been involved in sumfing Maman calls a "bug-tussel" over who gets to sleep nextest to Dadda's side obba bed at nite. 

This all began when Phil left before Fanksgibbin' to go live with his Aunt Terry in Callyfornia - so it's been going on for Quite Awhile Now, and as of Lastest Nite, it showed no signs of stopping - Until - ~ SURPRISE! ~ which actchually happined to occur Lastest Nite!

Yeah.

And I won't tell you the ~ SURPRISE ~ just yet, or you won't be Surprised when I get to that part.

You see, the whole Fing got started onna'count obba Fakt Marc, the Border Collie, believes that he is Sekond-in-Command to Dadda inna Warren. It's a Dawg-fing, because Border Collies have-to-have Rools, and these are the Rools as Marc finks they exsist: Dadda issa Alpha Male and Marc is Dadda's designated Second-in-Command, and ev'rybunny else is not-in-charge-of-ennyfing, end-of-story. 

But atta same time, Cokie finks that he issa TopCat inna Warren and this means that he Out-Ranks the Dawg on All Counts - and he, as TopCat, should get to sleep nextest to Dadda inna Most Important Sleeping Spot at nite.

About the onliest fing on which they agree is that Whomever is the Nextest Most Important Male Inna Whole Houz - Afta Dadda - gets to Occupy the Bed onna floor Nextest to Dadda inna Bedroom.

And That Bed has been Marc's bed frum, like, Forebber, but Marc is getting old, and he hadda slight "stroke" (Maman calls it) and he doesn't see as well as he did and he's having a few trubbles getting around. So Cokie-the-Fat Cat has been watching alla this and he's trying to sneak innu Maman and Dadda's bed at nite, so he can sleep Nextest to Dadda IN THE Hoomin BED! Which hasn't been going so well, since ev'ry time he jumps onna Hoomin Bed, he keeps landing on either Dadda's back or Maman's head and waking them up. Then no matter how much he purrs and turn on his Cute, he's Pretty Sure to come flying outta the Bedroom with all four paws offa ground.

And, of course, this makes Marc-the-Border-Collie Laugh.

Onna'count obba Fakt air-born cats purrin' overhead inna nite-time are actchually preddy amusing. Unless you are da Cat.

So during the day, Marc goes outta his way to play "Annoy the Cat" and udder inner'estin' Games Of Opportunity - like, "Wassat Your Tail?", "Oh! I Didn't Realise That Tidbit Was For You!" and, of course, the ever-popular, "Gee, I Didn't See You!" (better-known as "Get Up, Get Up! I Thought You Wassa Rug!").

Bunnies don't werry about this stuff. We all know this is Our Warren, and I'm TopBunny. It's been this way for awhile and as I'm only six, and not going ennywheres, that's the Way It Is. I mean, who gets fed furst? Bunnies get Salads before ennybunny. Who has fluffy towels changed ev'ry day? Bunnies. Who has their ownliest habbytats in their ownliest room? Alla Us Togedder. Who has their ownliest blog onna Innernet where they type their Very Own 'Pinions and Observations? 'Nuff said. 

So Lastest Nite the Dawg was out inna Living Room, On Guard, anna Cokie-Cat was unner the table glaring inna Dining Room, and Maman was inna 'puter room, talking to Aunt Terry in California, when the Frunt Door opins and in walks Dadda and PHIL!

Phil came home to visit Maman for her Birthday!

And wow! Was Maman ~ SURPRISED ~ !

So Lastest Nite, the Cokie-cat was rilly mad. Onna'count obba Fakt that ev'ry fing has gone Back to How It Was Before Phil Left! Dadda is still the Alpha Male inna Houz, but now Phil is back and the Furstest Fing he did was he picked up Cokie and set him down on his butt so they could sing the "Kitty-Cat Song" togedder, where Phil helps Cokie to clap his paws togedder and sing, "I'mma kitty-cat! And I dance-dance-dance and I dance-dance-dance!" - which onna Cat-Diggity Scale of 1-to-10 rates in Negative Numbers.

And of course Maman is still too surprised and teary-eyed to bother defending Cokie at all, so he just slinked right UNNERNEAF the Dining Room table where he ccould sit onna paperbag, glare out atta Dawg and sulk. Anna Dawg has instantly regained his whole position assa Number Two Second-in-Command - He has alla his Legitimate Collie-Jobs back, and he's got alla his "Rools" and, best of all, he doesn't have to sit around doing Stoopit Cat-Dances.

And when ev'rybunny went to bed, the Dawg had back his automatic position onna bed onna floor right beside Dadda inna Bedroom - while Cokie had his paperbag unnerneaf the Dining Room table.

So you can see how big "that" went over! And then, just to make fings slightly worst, Phil went uppystairs to his room where his Whole Gang of Five was thundering back and forth all night so that "sleep" remained more of a concept lastest nite than enny kind of reality.

Hextcept for us bunnies. Phil gave us extry pets and we got extry treats lastest nite. And since We are atta udder end obba Houz, we got plenty of sleep, got up at our usual time and are doin' fine, fanks! As Missy said to me right as Marc was enforcing the No Cats Inna Bun Room Rool (with a liddle more enthusiasm than Cokie was prepared to accept but less than Maman was prepared to scold him for) - Missy turned to me and said, "Well, ev'ryfing is back to normal! Phil's home and it's just like he said - It's all fun-and-games 'til sumbunny gets hurt." That's when we heard the crash inna Kitchin anna Cat began swearing atta Dawg. 

And Missy chuckled. "And then, whoa! It's downright hilarious!" 

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

Posted by Our Warren at 8:44 AM EST

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So The Dawg was axtin' Whut To Do aboudda' Warren in Haiti that had The Earthquake, and tiday I happined to find the answer inna Noospaper story inna New York Daily News. Click here to read the story and find out how you can help animals who are injured or who need veterinary care in Haiti.

Inna Natural Disaster everybun is affected and everybun hassa Opportunity to Help.

So tiday it is rilly rainy and windy outside anna Dawg has trubble just keeping on his paws on his Morning Patrol. So Dadda went outside with him.

I fink wunna the most Frequently-Axt Questions around heer is "Whut are you, nutz?"

That's whut Dadda axted Marc as they were coming inna Back Door, as in, "You think either wun of us is gonna lie down by the Gate in this rain and watch the road? Whut are you, nutz?"

Then Maman axted the Catz the same question as she was handing out their breakfast: "Whut, you fink kitty-food is sum kinda poison? Whut are you, nutz?"

Then it was Foxie to The Dawg as he was shaking rain off his coat just beside her habbytat: "You fink I wanted a shower? Whut are you, nutz?"

And then, of all fings, it was Maman, axting Missy and me as she was handing out Morning Salad! I mean, when you fink of it, if there is Wun Fing that we are not, it is Nutz. Bunnies live in Hope, which is Whut We Do. And onna'count obba Fakt that we live in Hope - and don't go rushing innu a pile of boring Romaine and just stand there, looking like we're hexpecting sumfing else (like Rolled Oats, mebbe) while there is still remains the slightest possibility that there might (possibly, mind you) might be Rolled Oats (maybe) inna offing - there is totally No Reason for Maman to axt us, "Whut, you actually fink you deserve to have Treats before Breakfast? Whut are you, nutz?"

Onna'count obba Fakt that, yes, we actchually Are That Special that we do deserve Treats Before Breakfast. I mean, it's not outrageous to hexpect Treats Before Breakfast. We are, afta all, bunnies. We are undoubtedly Special

You mean, like, you hafta axt? Whut are you, nutz?

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:41 AM EST

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A very nice young lady frum Uppa-Road went to Haiti to give food and education to kids there. She had just arrived in her hotel room and called her mawmie and then the Earthquake happened. She hasn't been heard frum since. Of course, Everybunny here is very scared for her, and everybunny is saying prayers for her safe return.

But this blog Entry is not about her, hextactly. It is about the Noos and how it's reported.

Howcome noospeople just started pouring innu Haiti's earthquake disaster and started practicing all kinds of "feral journalism"? I mean, didn't ennybunny frumma noos-organization "want" to go there in order to help - or were they all there with their cameras and notebooks and film-atta-'leven teams just to rush around like a pack of starving critters, feeding offa misery?

Lemme put it to you this way: if I just happened onna Earthquake and there were burrows collapsed and Bunnies-in-Trubble, the Furst Fing I would prob'ly do would be to do my "job" and take sum Pikchurs, send them on - and then throw away my camera, send a text message to Those Who Love Me, sayin': "I'm hokay! There has been a disaster! Send Help!", and then start diggin' - even though I know that it's does that do the diggin' while bucks usually don't.

I mean, doin' your job is Wun Fing, but sumtimes you gotta Do More Than Your Job, you have to take on a job you don't usually do.  

Whut I wouldn't do is start finkin' "I gotta take pikchurs ob Bunnies-in-Trubble." or "Whoa! Lookit alla Trubble! Send more photographers!" I would fink, "I gotta get help for these Bunnies-in-Trubble, onna'count obba Fakt this is bigger than I am!"

Now, I know a pikchur can tell a story faster than a bunch of werds, so sending on a pikchur of a disaster can help bring much-needed Help. So if I was a photo-journalist, I would Do My Job. But I can also dig. I have Udder Talents. Mebbe I don't get paid for havin' them, but that doesn't mean I don't have'em or shouldn't use them.

There comes a point when even a photo-journalist should hextchange a Camera for a Shovel. There also comes a time when there are Enough Photo-journalists wandering around Unnerfoot. Not ev'ry moron with a camera anna Press Pass has an automatic reserved space onna Disaster-Response team.

I wonder how many Emergency Supplies hadda be left behind to make room onna USS Vinson when alla junk carried by CNN-Noos came on-board? Did that Dr. Sanjay-person need a camera-crew in order to do good or could he have done good all on his ownliest without being filmed?

And let's say you gotta choice of disaster pikchurs to take, sad as that is. Do you... take the pikchur of ten guys with weapons bullying udders for water or of a thousand people inna Cathedral garden self-organizing innu a line letting li'l children and old people be handed water before udders? Do you... take a pikchur of helicopters landing inna only open space that happins to be where a government building used to stand (and then be sure to mention it "looks like" an "invasion") or take a pikchur of people trying to be safe living on boats inna harbour (and then be sure to mention it "looks like" they're "fleeing")? And you gotta be sure about the choice of werds, too, so you know your bunch of pikchurs gets inna papers before someone else's!

And I want to know who reports onna reporters. The reporters who type the many stories that appear inna Guardian Online, and The Times (both New Yook and Lundun) anna lotta udder noospapers, all talk about people who have had no water or food in days. I want to know if the reporters who is type these werds shared enny of what they had to eat with the people about whom they write, the people who have none. Did the reporters use their phones to call back to the Relief People and say, "Lookit, my GPS co-ordinates are 'x' and there are 'y' number of people here. They need this-this-and-this. I'll stand-by and reassure them 'til you get here."

Or did the reporters just get their stories and then just climb back into their vehicles and drive away?

If ev'ry journalist onna-ground acted also acted assa co-ordinator and assa rallying point, assa point of light and hope instead of as a disaster tourist, well, the Relief Effort of which the noospeople are so critical might go better. Mebbe the televisions and the noospapers wouldn't have had so many stories and so menny hours of video-tape, but more lives would be saved.

The story isn't The Story. The Story is Alla Us Togedder. It's a choice.

And that's the whole point, isn't it?

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:54 AM EST

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The Warren is where Alla Us Togedder live.

So whut happins to Wun of Us, happins to Alla Us.

Right now, just Lastest Night, there wassa Big Earthquake in Haiti. The whole Earth unnerneaf of ev'rybunny living there suddinly shifted, and many buildings fell down, homes were destroyed, humans and animals died and just about ev'ryfing was disrupted inna blink of-an'eye!

Ev'rybun there needs help!

And help is onna way frum lotsa places. The Coast Guard is already sailing four ships right towards Haiti!

But Wun Fing that everybunny right here can do, Right Now, is go down to that place where Our Auntie Grace (of The Herd in Kin-Tuck-Eee) goes to werk when there issa disaster - The Red Cross - and go inside and donate blood!

Yeah! Do it NOW, onna way to werk, or onna way to get groceries, or afta takin' the kits to school - just ennytime! Walk right in, roll up a sleeve and say toda person there, "I wanna donate blood to help out The Warren in Haiti!" It won't take long, it won't hurt and it WILL help!

Because we are all Wun Warren, Alla Us Togedder, NoBunny OnAlone!

--------- By George

Posted by Our Warren at 9:21 AM EST

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I can't even begin to tell you whut's been going on since I last posted here in The Hay Diaries. I mean, even if I had the space, there is just not enuf room in my head to hold alla stuff...and here it is a New Year, and the 5th year since Belinda Bunny started this blog about stuff...

And that's Whut It Is... stuff. Wun Fing Afta An'udder.

Furst, sumfing happins - and that's hokay onna'count obba Fakt that you are Alla Us Togedder, and there's Maman and Dadda anna Catz anna Dawg and you kin roll wiffit, and you know tomorrow is onna way, so nuthin' is gonna be horrybul forebber.

And then tomorrow arrives and you're going along preddy good, and then - alla suddin - sumfing else happins! But you're, like, well, it's hokay onna'count obba Fakt you're still Alla Us Togedder inna Warren and there's Maman and Dadda anna Catz and even if the Dawg is preddy sick, he's still back home with you. And he's acting weird, but every day, he's gettin' bedder, so you figger, well, ev'ry day is gonna get bedder still...

And you're rollin' along and then - suddinly (onna'count obba Fakt fings-in-general never seem to give you enny warning they're gonna happin!) - Missy decides she's not gonna eat and Mr Mouse acts weird. So Maman get werried and everybun hasta go to see Dr Sharin and that's hokay, onna'count obba Fakt it's ev'ry-bun-Togedder inna-car with Maman and Dadda and it is going to see Dr. Sharin. But then, Mr Mouse leaves for the Rainbow Bridge and Missy's more than just sick.

And while Maman is trying to adjust to alla dis and axtin' me Whut's Going On and, like, I have No Cloo, Phil-the-Lad suddinly (Bemember whut I just said about fings never giving you enny warning before they happin?) hassa job opporunity in Suddern Callyfornia! So he leaves the Warren. At Furst it's just for two weeks and Maman is sorta hokay with that, because it's sorta like Phil-inna-Navy and she knows he'll be coming back and she's sorta got used to him coming-and-going-and-leaving-and-returning. Except this time, he comes back and then leaves and... uh oh - well, that's Whut We Do - we grow up, don't we? Maman told me she unnerstands totally fumma purely innelekchual point-of-view, which, of course, means that she's doesn't unnerstand ennyfing.

Yeah. So, well, now here we are.

Foxie is living in Mr Mouse's habbytat, and Dusty is still in Dusty's habbytat. Missy and I live surrounded by fleecies and ev'ry bunny has like three salads a day plus treats, onna'count obba Fakt that Dr Sharin said Missy can have ennyfing she wants - and she wants ev'ryfing! This would include ev'ryfing I have, so I gotta eat fast if I wanna eat. We also get treats three times a day, and ev'ry udder time we can convince either Maman or Dadda to make a withdrawl frumma Salad Bank on their way through the Bun Room. Plus! Missy gets meddysin twice a day which seems to taste preddy good. I would like to try it, but Maman said, "No".

The Dawg is still The Dawg with slight differences. He still goes out On Patrol, but has trubble getting up the steps to come in. Sumtimes he fortygets to come in, which results in Dadda havin' to go out with him On Patrol. When it is Dark, this has resulted inna lotta "Anglo-Saxonisms" as Maman says, onna'count obba Fakt Dadda doesn't see too well inna Dark, and the Dawg doesn't mention to Dadda where he prob'ly should put his feets. Maman waits by the Back Door with Kitchin Roll.

Cokie-the-Fat-Cat thinks this is funny. Dadda doesn't. Marc just wants a MilkBone Dawg Biscuit and a bit of a push to get him uppa steps. Walkin' over-top of the Cat doesn't bother him Wun Bit, but it bothers the Cat a whole lot, which he lets ev'ry know about in Loud Terms. But Dadda says Cokie issa Very Vocal Cat and not to mind him. This also upsets the Cat, which Beep, the Udder Cat, thinks is funny. The Dawg, though, is too busy with the MilkBone to care until he falls over her. The Cats feel very hard-done-by, but Dadda says this is to be hexpected of Catz.

And Maman seems kinda sad. I talk with her a lot. Mostly, we just sit and kinda look. If she had the right kinda ears, I think they would be kinda uppy-downy, sorta helicopter-ish.

Onna'count obba Fakt that fings just sorta happin Wun Afta An'udder, with no warning. It's a puzzle, lemme tell you.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 5:13 PM EST

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For High-Stress Companion-Critters, nothing beats Living With Hoomins.

Nothing. 

Maman waked up pretty early for her This Morning and came padding out innu the BunRoom not looking so good.

This was not the fault of Alla Us Togedder, you unnerstand. We were being preddy quiet onna'count obba Fakt it was raining outside and still pretty much Looking Like Dark. So we were kind of just sitting there in our habitats, munching hay and not doing ennyfing (not even Dusty) that could be called "loud". 

Whut she got woke up by was the Fakt that the gutter thingie outside the Bedroom Window has a clog or sumfing innit and that made the rain-water overflow the sides and go "thunk-thunk-thunk" onna ground instead of flowing quietly through the downspout out onnu the lawn, and the sound Aggryvated her "Mygraine" and made her head hurt - and that's whut Woke Her Up.

And that's Whut I Think - but the main fing to bemember heer, issat: It Was Not Us.

Rabbits, as a species, are Very Low Stress - but Living With Hoomins is Very High Stress, lemme tell you!

So, like, this week has been a Reel Nightmare.

Furst, Maman innerduced us toda concept of Agent. She's a writer (well, she was a musician, furst, but she's a writer now that she can't play the 'cello-thingie ennymore) and this is mostly fine onna'count obba Fakt it issa mostly quiet, nap-enhancing profession. And the last time she went through alla werk of actually publishing ennyfing serious was back in 1987, which is before Our Lore. (She says non-fiction, specialist peery-yodicals doesn't count) - so we didn't know ennyfing about the Care and Feeding of Agents. But Maman felt like she hadda go and get wun. 

Whutebber. We were 'dopted, the Catz were 'dopted, and so wassa Dawg. We unnerstand the concept of "Rescue". We didn't unnerstand the concept of "agent" - and now that we do, we have discovered that they are (like udder hoomins) Very High Stress companions!

As far as we can see (which is not much onna'count obba Fakt Agents don't visit once they are rescued) agents exist to have "needs" and Maman exists to fulfill them. The Agent calls and "needs" to have this by then. So Maman sets to werk to get this accomplished by the appointed time. Hokay, and that's nice, and Maman has the required whutebber completed by the desired whenever. But then the Agent calls back and "needs" sumfing else by anudder time. And off Maman goes, grimly hoping to please, again.

Whut we have lerned is that Maman is a lot like certain kinds of Dawgs - she's a Pleaser, anxious to do whutebber it takes to make udders happy.

Which Missy says is Fine-By-Her, so long as it's Our Happiness that's unner consideration heer - and not sum recently-rescued-species-of-agent we've not even met!

And Mouse said he doesn't begrudge anudder companion-critter being rescued, hexcept Maman put him - Mr Mouse - inna BunPen inna SittingRoom to watch Law & Order on his ownliest, which sort of made it seem like she was trying to get away with combining Playtime with his Television-watching-time, and that was - in his opinion - Not On. He didn't get to have His Pillow and she didn't give him his own bowl of RiceChex cereal and what was Worst of All, there was an eppysode on that had that Noo ADA innit, the one who is not Jack McCoy (who is Mr Mouse's hero) and Mouse was forced to watch it onna'count obba Fakt he did not have access to The Remote (which Maman insists is a hoomin-only fing and Mouse doesn't know how to werk ennyways).

Yeah. Talk about High Stress!

So while we kinda unnerstand the Economic Downturn anna need for Maman to (in her werds) "use her head for sumfing udder than a mildly decorative ornament" in order to help keep us in carrots, this whole "writer-gig" seems preddy intrusive frum where we sit - or are trying to sit, onna'count obba Fakt, even sitting is getting pretty pr'carious, right about Now, too - whut with Dadda grabbin' pootie-boxes right out frum unnerneaf of our Nether Regions prak'tickly as soon as we sit down.

I mean, Rilly!

Isn't it bad enuf that Dadda steals our pooties onna reg'lar basis, ennyways? I mean, whut's up with that?

It's getting to the point where I can't even hop innu the pootie-box without carefully looking over my shoulder to make sure sumbunny isn't sneaking up behind me, ready to grab the pan and make a run for the Back Door. Whut if I get carried Out With the Pan? Why is stealing my Smell so important? I werk hard to put that Smell in there and then Dadda comes in and grabs it right out frum unner me!

He says it's "valuable stuff". Yeah, well, I know that! It's My Smell, for crying out loud! Mine!

And he's throwing it out innu the Gardin!

And I know that's whut's happinin', too, onna'count obba Fakt the Dawg told me there's a whole Raised Veggytubble Bed out inna Gardin with a little white fence around it. Dadda yelled at him to "Get Away frum that, you daft Muttley!" and the Dawg was so offended, he came in and complained to me that he wasn't allowed to mark My Smell with His Smell.

And I was, like, "Lookit, you can't put Your Smell on My Smell! That's My Smell!"

Anna Dawg was, like, "But it's in My Gardin, right near where I go On Patrol. I gotta put My Smell on it in order to keep the Wandering Catz away frumma Gardin!"

And I'm, like, "But it's My Smell!"

Anna Dawg is, like, "Yeah, but it's in My Gardin!"

So I'm, like, "Who's fault is that?"

So that's anudder fing that's severely screwed up - Dadda's throwin' My Smell inna Dawg's Gardin and now the Dawg is trying to put His Smell over My Smell.

Yeah. Hoomins! High-stress companions, Lemme tell you!

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

.

Posted by Our Warren at 9:40 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 29 May 2009 9:41 AM EDT

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Maman says Today is Memorial Day, so I'm typing in "patriotic colours".

She says today is the day we honour every human who ever died fighting for The United States in Our Military. Then she told Missy and me the names of all the people in Our Family who served inna Military in Our Family. There is a long list, beginning before Noo Joisey and Pennsylvania even became states! Her List actually begins with sumbunny named Christian Hershey who listened to Dr. Franklin and believed inna "Rights of Man" and fought against King George (can you believe it?) of Inkland in 1776.

Yeah!

So there was Christian Hershey in 1776, and then somebunny with the funny name "Gasaway" frum Baltimore in 1796 and 1812, and then Colonel Norris L. Yarnell and his brothers, and George Cost and the Wheatley brothers in the 1860's, and then Maman's Granddaddy who joined up as a Chaplain on the very last day of World War I.

And then Pearl Harbour happened, and that was the beginning of World War II for the United States. Of course, World War II was already happening in Inkland where Dadda's Dadda, Jack, was wandering around inna jungles of Burma looking for his regiment that had been shot to pieces, because the British were fighting against Imperialism long before the Americans got innu it. But the bombing of Pearl Harbour on Sunday Morning, December-Seven brought the United States innu World War II.

So on Monday Morning, December-Eighth, Maman's Dadda (who was Our Bim) went with his three bestest friends down to the Army Air Corps Headquarters in Newport, RI to volunteer to become pilots. They had all heard Fred Prince tell about being a dashing aviator over the trenches in France, and they'd watched Ernst Udet, the German ace, pick up a lady's handkerchief with a fish-hook attached to the wing of his airplane. To four young men in their first year of college, that seemed like the perfect life for them. They would join the Air Corps, become pilots and tour the world! So on December-Eighth they met at Our Bim's House and then walked down Broadway together to the recruiter's. They were Bim, Dave and Bill Sweet, and John Lauth. 

Well, Maman said that the Army Air Corps was a very popular service right about then, so they could afford to be picky. The recruiter rejected John because of his eyesight, Bim said, and then rejected both of the Sweet boys, and then rejected Bim onna'count obba Fakt he had flat feets. 

So they left that recruiter's office feeling pretty upset and angry. And just as they were all standing outside the Army Air Corp's office, frowning and complaining as only a bunch of teenage guys onna street-corner can, a Chief Petty Officer came out of his recruiting office across the street and yelled to them, "Hey guys! Whutssamatta? Those prima donnas in the Army aren't the only ones with planes, y'know! Come on over to the Navy and we'll sign you up!"

Well, Newport was a Navy town, Maman said, so of course all four boys (because they were younger than Our Phil) crossed the street and signed up with the Navy.

Because Our Bim was in his first year of Medical School, the Navy said to him, "Hey! Don't waste that Ivy League education! Just sign right here and we'll make you a nurse!" So Bim figured he'd sign up to become a nurse and then get himself transferred into being a pilot. So he signed. When someone got to the part about how old was he, he bragged about being in college and let everyone assume he was older than he was. He said he didn't outright lie, but he didn't tell the truth, either, because if he had, the Navy wouldn't have let him sign. And ennyways, he also put down some Admiral as a refrence so the Navy let it slide on through. 

And his mother, who was Maman's Granny was furious and called up just about everyone she knew the moment Bim got home - but by then, it was pretty much Too Late - Bim was inna Navy and that was that - but Granny wasn't about to let him take on enny dangerous jobs like flying airplanes and more than knowing the Admiral, she knew the Admiral's wife. So Bim became a Chief Surgical Nurse and spent the rest of the war trying to convince anyone who would listen that he rilly should be somewhere near to an airplane. No one listened and Bim never went anywhere further frum Newport, Rhode Island than Maryland.

He fortygot to rekon with the Power of the Mamans and Afternoon Tea in the Werld-As-It-Was.

His friend, John, didn't get to be a pilot, either. The Navy is like that. They ask you what you want to do and then they decide where they want to put you. Sometimes the two coincide, but not often. Of the four friends, only Bill Sweet got to be a pilot.

And the other three thought he was lucky, because that's exactly what they had signed up to be.

But near the end of the war, Bill Sweet took off from some island in the Pacific ocean and got involved with some other pilots from Japan, and the last anyone saw of Bill's plane, it was chasing off into the sun.

And he never came back. And no one ever heard from him again.

The Navy said he was "lost".

But I don't think so. I don't think anyone is ever really "lost". I think Bill Sweet prob'ly found some back way across the Bridge and landed his airplane in the Meadow. And he got out of his plane, and saw there were bunnies and dogs and kitties and lots of other critters and so he sat down with his back against a handy tree and that's where Our Bim and the rest of his friends found him waiting for them.

But it's the Story of Bill Sweet that's important today - how he and Our Bim and Dave and John all went together down to the recruiter's in Newport on the Day After Pearl Harbour. It's the stories of the past - The Lore - that inform the Present, and give shape to the Future.

Because, you see, Our Bim told the Story of the Day After Pearl Harbour and the story of Bill Sweet to Our Phil - and that's howcome on the Day After Nine-Eleven, Our Phil didn't bother with the Army when President Bush went on television and said "We are at war.". Our Phil went down to the Navy Recruiter, cut out being rejected in case he possibly had flat-feet, and signed up to work with computers.

And the Navy, being the Navy, listened to what Phil wanted and then put him where they decided they needed him - with airplanes...

So today, we remember the Crowd of Others who also found a backdoor to the Bridge - and all the corageous Critters Who Served. Don't fortyget them! Dawgs, horses, mules, even pigeons - who all were inna Military and did amazingly brave things for those who loved them and whom they loved! We bemember everybun of them Today.

Along with Bim's friend, Bill.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 7:55 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 29 May 2009 9:42 AM EDT

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Maman is upset because she feels we heer at Our Warren are not Eating.

She is worried that maybe Missy's tummy might hurt because she is not eating her Romaine, and she is beginning to bug Foxie because she only wants to eat baby organic carrots and not Romaine. She has accused Mr Mouse of being a "picky eater" because Lastest Night, he lunged at her onna'count obba Fakt the lightning made him Nervous and he didn't want his Hearts o' Romaine. Then she came afta me onna'count obba Fakt I stole from Missy's pile of Salad (Yeah, like Missy never steals frum me!) and scored a coupla-bites of carrot.

Only Dusty seems to be eating to Maman's satisfaction, and that boy eats Ev'ryfing he can find and produces the pooties to Proove It, Lemme tell you!

So now we have Maman, looking innu our Pootie-boxes, and holding us up to check us unner'neaf, and looking innu all of our food-crocks and trying to pry up Bunny-Lips to look innu our mouths to see Our Toofies because she is Werried About the Springtime Shed making our tummies hurt and destroying our Appytites and messing with Our Lower Digestive Tracts.

It's enuf to drive a HouzRabbit nutz!

Anna Hay!

Lemme tell you about The Hay.

There is enuf Hay going on Around Heer that Maman hasta sweep up the BunRoom twice ev'ry day. I mean, I'm sorting for all I am worth, and the stuff keeps on coming!

Don't get me wrong - I love Hay! Lovely, fragrant, locally-grown Timothy-hay - there is nothing better! - but having it rain down on you, getting in your ears, making a swamp in your water-crock, filling up your nostrils and covering over your Salad so that you gotta dig to find the Green Stuff - y'know, it's Just Not-Right!

The Morning Handful usta be sumfing to Look Forward To. You woke up around Still Looks Like Dark, and there were pellets to munch, grooming to be done, a bit of tidying up to do before the Dawg wandered outta the BedRoom, dragging Dadda on behind, to go for his Morning Patrol. And then Maman would show up for her Morning Coffee and get us the Morning Handful frumma Hay Locker outside.

And that was fine.

Nice, big handful of fresh Hay to sort through, and enjoy - clip this, sort that, eat a strand here, munch a bunch of that, and you could feel-the-love. But NOW - geez! - Now there is Hay everywhere. It's not "feel-the-love", it's eat-it-or-get-buried. I'm eating to stay afloat onna Sea of Stalks.

Worse is if I don't eat this mess down, Maman will come in, scoop up what Missy and I can't manage to eat, cart it away and then TOSS IN MORE!

And all onna'count obba Fakt she's afraid we're not Eating Right.

We need help in heer, lemme tell you!

And worse, it's not only us - it's bunnies ev'ry wheres!

Yeah.

Auntie Carla is werried that poor Normy isn't putting out his normal Out-Put (if you know whut I mean) and Unkul Michael is "Keeping an eye on" Our Cousins Janie and Bailey in Noo Yawk. Poor Janie hadda v-e-t called on her for not Eating Right! Ev'ry wheres treats are being decreased and getting replaced by "Good For You Foods" - I mean, Whut's Up With That?

And Yestidday, Maman said to Dadda, "I dunno, but maybe we're gonna have to switch from buying Romaine to another type of green..."

And I'm, like, "Waidaminit - Romaine is a Foundational Food! I've been eating Romaine Cups Piled High With Fresh Herbs Garnished With Baby Organic Carrots and Froot Slices and/or Berries In Season for the past Five Years! You gotta-be-kiddin' me!"

But seeing as how she said it as she was tossing another handful of Hay innu Missy and my habbytat, Maman didn't hear me - and by the time I'd fought my way to the crest of this latest Hay-wave, she had alreddy mooved on to go bother the Dawg. Seems he's not Eating Right, either...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 8:59 AM EDT

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I have been a very lucky bunny.

• I got taken away frum my mawmie too early but I got bought assa Easter Bunny and wasn't sold for snake food.
• When my furst people didn't want me, they put me inna cardboard box and left me inna v-e-t's office but Maman came and took me home to Our Warren.
• I felt skert and very Small, but I met Belinda Bunny (Inkwish Spot) and she let me sleep cuddled up beside her and groomed my head.
• Then Belinda went away and crossed the Rainbow Bridge but Our Friend, Miss Nikita (Inkwish Spot) typed to me, and helped me to see how lucky I was to have even met Belinda inna Furst Place! 

Onna'count obba Fakt ev'rybunny needs an Inkwish Spot Bunny in their lives at some point. 

It's like Auntie Suzy needed to get Mr Brown outta dat Chikin Place. It might have been fulla hoomins who "meant well", but their good intentshuns didn't produce good results for bunnies. And Harold (Inkwish Spot) knew this! So there was Brown, who only had wun eye and who was sik, and so Harold pointed him out and Auntie Suzy got permission to take Brown innu her car and Harold watched that, and he thought to himself,

"Hang on. I'm not staying here on my Ownliest with chikins!"

So Harold hopped up and stowed away innna back seat of Auntie Suzy's car, and sat very quietly until the Whole Bunny Rescue Wagon got back to Auntie Suzy's place and then he hopped out and was like, "Hey, Brown! I'm staying with you!"

And that was that.

Notice Suzy played no part in that Decision. It was all Harold - Harold rescued Brown, and then Harold rescued Harold.

But that's typical of Inkwish Spot bunnies. They make Decisions and carry them out. They are Project-oriented Rabbits.

Inkwish Spots are like Pennyroyle who start out inna evening lounging inside their habbytats, but who greet their mawmie, Auntie Grace, ev'ry morning sittin' on top of their habbytats, yelling cheerfully, "Hey, you! I know you fink this thing is bunny-safe, but lookie heer - Guess Again!"

Inkwish Spots take charge of Warrens, like Miss Nikita.

Auntie Tina wants to take part inna Marry-Thon, go for a 5K run just onna'count obba Fakt she can.

And Inkwish Spots are inna Biznizz of hearing about sumfing and then making it a  Reality. So Miss Nikita took over training Auntie Tina. Afta all - nobunny Runs like a bunny! So if you're gonna train, you might as well train with The Best!

And Auntie Tina hexpekted that Miss Nikita would be there, waiting for her, at the Finish Line to tell her alla things that she'd done wrong during the 5K Marry-Thon - hexcept that Miss Nikita got to another Finish Line and crossed the Rainbow Bridge, far, far out ahead of Auntie Tina, instead.

Of course that doesn't mean that Miss Nikita won't be watching Auntie Tina run inna Marry-Thon - so far as I unnerstand it frum The Lore as it was told to me by me,Hunny (Senior Bun of Our Warren), Miss Nikita will be watching, along with her bond-mate Rosey and prob'ly Our Belinda and her bondmate, Hawthorn, and enny other bunnies who like to watch a good show. And they will most likely make a day of it and bring a picnic lunch with several kinds of hay, froot and enny udder treats Belinda can lay her paws on.

Because Inkwish Spot bunnies are the Planners and the "Project" bunnies; the bunnies who look at the Werld As It Is and fink to themselves, "I can't be habbin' wif dis." and then go fix whutever isn't the Way It Should Be.

Or else they challenge the Rest Of Us to get it done.

Because we've been around them, and have been shown The Way It Should Be. We've been *there* when an Inkwish Spot yelled, "Hey!" and suddenly did Whut No Bunny Had Done Before. Like looked at a wire, followed where it went and said to no-bunny in particular, "If I snip that, sumbunny will come. And when they do, we will Turn On Our Cute and they will Pet Us."

And when the wire was snipped, and Phil came to fix it, Belinda turned on her Cute, and sidled up to Phil - but he didn't pet her! He pushed her away and said, "Not now, Belinda. I'm busy!"

So she lowered her head and came back to him with her Cute running at full-blast - and he pushed her away again.

And Belinda sat back, looked at Phil and said, "I can't be habbin' wif this!"

And she ran unnerneath of him, pointed her head "up" and bit him inna Very Tender Part of his Anatomy.

And Belinda watched Phil fly up inna air and come down, holding on to his Tender Anatomy, and she stuck up her ears, lowered her head and said, "Now you won't be too busy to pet me."

Inkwish Spot Rabbits do not walk away frum Challenges. They make up their minds and Do Sumfing.

Like Miss Nikita took care of Her Hoomin. 

When her Hoomin was crying, Miss Nikia stayed with her. She knew wiffout being told, "Hoomins should not cry OnAlone." So Nikita stayed with her hoomin.

When it was time to go to bed and her hoomin was still crying, Miss Nikita didn't abandon her or walk away or go to sleep inna'hextposed area - because nobunny should ever have to be OnAlone. But it was getting Later and Later and her Hoomin was still crying and Nikita thought: "I can't be having with this."

So Miss Nikita bemembered her Purple Igloo that was inna'nudder room and she went to get it. And she set her her head against the Purple Igloo and she push-push-pushed that Purple Igloo outta the Udder Room and Downna Hallway and Innu the Room Where the Hoomin was, and push-push-pushed that Purple Igloo right nextest to her Hoomin's feets, then got innu the Igloo, turned around so she was facing out-wards and went to sleep wif her head on her Hoomin's feets. 

And that's Devotion.

That's Problem-Solving.

And bunnies who do stuff like that don't ever leave their hoomins OnAlone. 

Onna'count obba Fakt that deep down, Inkwish Spots are the ownliest rabbits that dare to speak the Troof - that hoomins like bunnies should never be OnAlone. It is a Lie that hoomins can exist OnAlone, because if they are left OnAlone, Without Proper Supervision, hoomins (obviously) will:

• Cry alone
• Talk onna computers and phone and never bother to connect with each other face-to-face, and therefore stay OnAlone
• Ride in cars alone
• Run Marry-Thons feeling very much alone

Hoomins can feel the same way I felt - terrified, hopless and destitute - when I was left inna cardboard box all OnAlone atta v-e-t's, before Belinda let me sleep all snug and warm curled up nextest to her in Our Warren.

But, I axt you - issa Bunny who pushes a Purple Igloo frum room-to-room just to comfort her Hoomin rilly gonna just go away and leave her Hoomin all OnAlone because she has gone to the Rainbow Bridge? Can you rilly believe that an Inkwish Spot hopped across a shining, glittering thread of a bridge, through the thinnest veil that hangs like spiders' silk between two worlds and is somehow no longer innerested in the Hoomin she loved?

I guess you also fink Harold doesn't care about the Hoomin he worked so hard to follow home, the one he insisted rescue little Brown!

Do you rilly believe Love is so fragile that the misty boundaries between worlds can change the Spots on a determined Project-Manager Rabbit?

You know Whut I Fink? I fink that tiday there are a bunch of bunnies who gathered Very Early This Morning at the Little Kiosk at the End of the Rainbow Bridge, and ev'ry bunny brought a baskit with them. And Hawthorn and Hunny (who are Lops, and devoted to Good Eating) helped ev'ry bunny choose frum piles of choice Hay, Froot and other Treats, until their baskits were full to bursting.

And I fink that whe alla bunnies had their baskits filled, Belinda Bunny (Inkwish Spot) handed out copies of her special Map o' the Meadow that has alla Bestest Looking-Down Spots clearly marked out onnit. And then I fink that Miss Nikita (Inkwish Spot) showed ev'ry bun where Her Bestest Looking Spot was located, and then ev'ry bunny grabbed up their baskits in their toofies and chased allaway through the Meadow, till they got to where Miss Nikita and Rosey have their liddle Place, and Miss Nikita showed them all where to look down frumma Meadow to see In-Dee-Yanna.

And so now they're all watching and cheering for Auntie Tina doing her 5K Marry-Thon. And there's alotta visiting and cheering and eating, and of course, there's binkying and chasing alla'round and Miss Nikita is telling Belinda that this is How Fings Should Be, onna'count obba Fakt it's how she figgered. And Belinda's like, Yeah, and she'd better be seein' an entry inna Hay Didaries blog abouddit, too, and Hunny's like, Well, lookit, have sum hay. I'm sure it'll all get innu The Lore...

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:08 AM EDT

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Well, the Economy seems to be in Trubble.

At least that's all that's inna Noos, besides "pirates" anna SEALS anna Navy - but I hextpect to see the Navy onna'count obba Fakt Our Phil was innit.

But the Economy issa Whole Nudder Bunny (as the saying goes).

So I axted Maman "Whut's up with alla this 'Economy' suff?" and she gave me this long, complicated Discussion that involved History, Geography, Polly-Ticks, anna whole bunch of Udder Subjecks and quotes frum Professors and stuff I can't bemeber hextactly, but frum Whut I Can Figger Out, this Whole Fing shold be preddy easy to solve.

Onna'count obba Fakt, it all has to do with the Circle of Bright, which is preddy much a Lagomorphic way of looking at fings - which is why "Economics" has never much bothered bunnies. So, for Hoomins, I will try to hextplain. The theory behind it might be a liddle complicated, but in practice, it werks like this:

Furst, I had a look around and decided: I am hokay.

So nextest, I looked at Missy, and like she was sorting hay innu "eat", "don't eat" and "George eat". So I didn't get involved with that onna'count obba Fakt there are some Fings you just let Missy get on with on her Ownliest without boddering to axt her enny 'pinions, lemme tell you! Just sorta assume that if somefing is the matter with Her Werld, she's gonna let you know abouddit in Very Short Order.

So, afta watching Missy for a minit and deciding everyfing was going pretty hokay so far as she was concerned, I called over to Mr Mouse in his habbytat, "Hey, Mouse! You hokay over there?"

And he was, like, "Yeah. Could stand wiffa clean-out anna carrot this morning didn't seem big enuf as usual and there was too much parsley, but inna main, ebberyfing is hokay!"

So then I axted Dusty and Foxie if they were hokay.

And they each said that they were, hextcept for the minor details about there not being nearly enuf treats for their liking, of course.

But my point is this:

The Furst Thing to do inna Economy is to make sure you are hokay. Then make sure everybun inna Warren is preddy much hokay - and if they don't have food, or water, or if they are cold or not feeling well, they will tell you.

Now if sumbunny in your Warren isn't Hokay, or if the Warren is in danger, then it's your job as TopBun to round up ev'rybunny else, have a fink, and see Whut Needs To Be Done to solve the Immediate Problem. Then Alla Us Togedder shares alike in getting done Whut Needs to Be Done - onna'count obba Fakt a Warren is Alla Us Togedder.

And afta you got that handled, you moove on to your Neighbours.

So, just about Then, the Dawg careened past on his way to the Door to the Back Gardin. He's still having trouble with his "Canine Vestibular Disorder", which means that he still feels like the Earth is mooving unn'erneath of his feets, so he's weaving back-and-forth like a sailor-on-shore-leave (as Phil would say).

And he's still not eating his dinners. He's only eating MilkBone Dawg Biscuit Treats and only if Dadda hands them to him. He seems to have sumfing wrong with his left eye, like he can't see outta it so good to find the food in his dinner-bowl, or like he doesn't want the food that's in there. Whutebber. There is somefing that's Not Hokay going on with him.

Please don't misunn'erstand me! He's still cheerful and he's still trying to do his Jobs, and to please ev'rywun, but he's a Border-Collie and this is Whut Border-Collies Do. But Yestidday Aftanoon, when he was trying to chase KayCee Kitty outta Our BunRoom (onna'count obba Fakt he still maintains his "No Catz Inna BunRoom" Rool) he slipped while he was going around a corner and fell down onna floor inna Dining Room. It made a very loud ~ bang! ~ and scared Maman and us, and made Dadda come running. And it made the Dawg afraid to stand up again without help frum Dadda. This is not like Our Dawg!

So, as he came past this morning, sort of brushing past Mr Mouse and then banging innu Missy's and my habbytat, I axted him, "Hey Doggo! Are you hokay?"

And Marc sorta whined (which is not like him!), "Well, I need to go out On Patrol, George-the-Bun."

And I'm, like, "Well, hang on, here come Dadda to opin the door for you. And he's prob'ly gonna go out with you, too."

And Marc said, "Yeah. Dadda helps the grass hold still."

So Dadda helped Marc go downnasteps and steadied him while he got across the walk out on to the grass.

And Maman came through afta Marc and Dadda and I stood up and Maman and I went nose-to-nose, and I was, like, "You know, I know the Dawg's v-e-t said his Verty-go would clear up inna'coupla' days, but it's been a coupla'days and the Verty-go is still boddering him. So mebbe you betta make anna'pointment for him to go to seeda v-e-t and get checked out, onna'count obba Fakt there might be something else the matta with him. Because he's not recovering like DokterPeterBatts said he should. And I know you don't wanna fink abouddit and nedder do Alla Us Togedder, but mebbe we hafta because we love him."

And Maman looked at me and she sighed and I knew that she and I were thinking the same sorts of things about how old Marc is, and how much can go wrong and how much we don't want ennyfing to be wrong.

Sumtimes Not Knowing is betta than Knowing, because when you know sumfing, you might have to do sumfing. And sumtimes you don't wanna have to do fings at all.

But love is about doing.

Love isn't just talking.

It is not a passive kinda werd that just sits there, looking at itself. It looks outward, sort of glowing.

Assa TopBun, I kinda fink of myself assa little spark sitting inna middle obba circle of bright -  and then I imagine me, making the circle bigger by making it hextend out to include Alla Us Togedder. And with Alla Us Togedder inside of the circle, then we're all glowing, so we can hextend that Circle of Bright that's around us out to include those around us in Our Warren. And when Our Warren is glowing brightly, then it's Circle of Bright can touch other brightly glowing circles in God's Great Warren, and reach out to hold back the Darkness.

And that's sorta Whut We Do. We each glow with a sorta Divine spark, a tiny touch of God's love-within-us, and we can choose to either let that spark hextspand, or we can keep it to ourselves. Of course, keeping it all to ourselves doesn't really do much to help the Circle of Bright hextpand, but reaching out to others, does.

My own hextperience is that when you opin up your Circle of Bright to touch sumbunny else's, your own personal spark inna middle of your personal Circle of Bright kinda lights up and gets stronger, too.

So that's how I figger the Economy can be fixed - by ev'rybunny opining up their Circle of Bright to touch ev'rybunny else's. Onna'count obba Fakt, when eve'rybun's Circle of Bright is touching and glowing that means that ev'rybun is safe and doing hokay, and the Darkness of OnAlone is kept away by the Brightness of Alla Us Togedder.

Yeah. I told you, it's a very Lagomorphic way of looking at fings. But, then, whuttayawant? I'm a HouzRabbit!

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

Posted by Our Warren at 12:19 PM EDT

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Did We heer at Our Warren ever have a week of It! Lemme tell you!

It all started Lastest Sunday, when Dadda got up inna middle obba Night to go getta bowl of Cereal.

Yeah.

So, we were all, like, sitting in Our Habbytats, and heer comes Dadda, and he turns onna liddle light so he doesn't wake up Maman (onna'count obba Fakt that even though she was still inna Bed Room asleep, she can still see enny light that goes on ennywheres onna'count of having had children and having to sleep with Wun Eye Opin Just-In-Case.).

So Dadda was inna Kitchin, getting a Bowl of Cereal, and we heard Da Dawg get up offa his bed and start coming frumma Bed Room to follow Dadda - onna'count obba Fakt the Dawg lives on Hope - that Dadda will someday drop a Whole Bowl of Cereal onna floor. It's nebber happined yet, but When It Does, the Dawg figgers he's gonna be there to help clean it up.

But This Time, the Dawg didn't make it innu the Kitchin. He only got as far assa Door to Phil's Place when suddenly he crashed innu the door and fell down. And whut was worse - he couldn't stand back up!

Scared the pooties outta me, lemme tell you!

So there wassa lotta running around and Phil came flying uppa stairs and Maman waked up and Dadda gotta car and they carried Poor Dawg off, wrapped inna blankie to seeda 'Mergency Vet!

And alla suddin, it was very silent inna Houz with Just Us anna Stoopit Catz who had No Cloo. In fakt, we had more cloos than they did onna'count obba Fakt I sat and listened to Maman instead of running around her feets like an Idiot, trying to get her to feed-me-or-fall-over, but that's a Whole Udder Story...

Ennyways, Maman, Dadda, Phil anna Dawg finally came back like two hours later and Maman and Dadda and Phil were talking about Canine Vestibular Disorder which is Whut wassa Matter Wiffa Dawg. Anna Dawg was standing there, with Phil holding him up, with his head onna side like sum poor bunny with Head-tilt (which issa terrible illness bunnies get in their ears and makes them unable to stand or eat or ennyfing.).

But in dogs, this Canine Vestibular Disorder issa'lot like Maman's Verty-Go, except it will go away In Time, whereas Maman is more-or-less perm'netly Dizzy (no story there!).

Well, the Dawg came in frum the Rain on his Morning Patrol wif Dadda, complaining that this last week has been a Reel Bugger. He said the ground won't stay while he's walking onnit, and he needs Dadda to help him sort out his paws so he can go Out On Patrol inna Gardin, and he's uppyset onna'count obba Fakt the wadder in his bowl won't stay still for him to drink it, anna food in his Dawg-bowl keeps moovin' around so he can't grab it to eat it. Worse still, he can't do his Normal Jobs, so he hadda listen to alla Rubbish Trucks come and go without him, and Don-Nextest-Door started uppa Boat wiffout him barkin' in Cellybrashun, anna kids all walked home frum school wiffout him barkin' they were onna way. And he's rilly werried onna'count obba Fakt he hasn't taken part inna Mornin or Eveing Barks, so none obba Udder Dawgs inna Neigbourhood know everyfing is Normal heer at Our Warren until he gets back toda Biznizz of Reg'lar Patrols on his Ownliest.

Which will take about anudder week.

So the Dawg said tiday when he came in frumma Patrol-wif-Dadda, "This sucks. I can't ebben shake. I gotta million hairs in my fur and every time I go to shake to get 'em all comfy again, I fall over!"

And Missy was like, "Well, ya'know, it's not so bad. Bemember, There is Allus an Egg."

Anna Dawg just looked at her, with his head onna side onna'count obba Fakt he can't hold it straight, with wun eye up anna udder eye struggling to get in the same direction, and he said, "Whut do you know abouddit, Missy-Bossy-Bun Rabbit?"

And Missy settled on her paws and was like, "Wookit, Doggo. According toda Lore - as it was told to me by me, Hunny, SeniorBun of Our Warren - Good Friday wassa Worstest Day Inna History Ob Anglican Lore. And we are Anglican bunnies, bemember? Onna'count obba Fakt Hunny usta go to Saint-Luke's in his baskit to getta pet frumma Rev'rend-dokter GinnySheay mostly around dis time of year, but a lotta udder times, too. He and Maggie were there when Maman and Dadda got bonded."

Anna Dawg was like, "Yeah, yeah, I bemember alla that. I'm 14 years old and I bemember a more obba Lore than even you do. Like I axtually bemember when Hawthorn usta go to Saint-Luke's, and to the Cathedral, too, and get Blessed and then come back and spread the Blessing alla'round. And Belinda went once and Maman sed she wasn't gonna take Belinda again because Belinda wouldn't hold still and she pulled onna priest's pants-leg and then almost snipped his shoestrings and when he didn't pet her, she kept trying to Take Over, and Maman said she was thankful for Father Dirk and Dean Chattin anna'nudder Bishop because Belinda was justa mess or sumfing..."

And Missy innerupted him and was, like, "Yeah. Well, listen up, onna'count obba Fakt this is Whut Hunny told to me aboudda Whole Easter Fing and it's in Our Lore so it applies to you." 

And she kicked her feets out behind her and continued, "So Good Friday wassa Werst Day There Could Be so far as Hope was concerned. Good Friday had it all when it came to Bad - injustice, cruelty, misery, terror, death - you name it and it was Bad, then it was there, all happinen At Once inna Same Place atta Same Time. The Whole Werld was OnAlone, and you know Whut That Is."

Anna Dawg said, "When you have no Pack and there is nobunny you care about and nobunny cares for you. That's 'OnAlone'."

"No Warren." Corrected Missy. "It's when you got No Warren."

"Pack." Insisted the Dawg. "Dawgs don't have Warrens."

"Whutebber!" Mr Mouse called over frum his habbytat. "Warren, Pack, it's all dif'frunt werds forda same idea!"

"Shaddup, Mouse! I'm tellin' it!" Yelled Missy, pulling her feet back under her. And her ears were standing out at about right angels frum her head and I'm finkin' - No, don't get involved in dis... just let her get on wiffit...

So Missy selected pellet outta the Food Crock, and chewed on that for a minit, then settled down again and tucked her paws unner'neaf of her. 

"So, like, if the Worst Fing That Happins To You issat you fall down when you stand up," she continued. "And Dadda hasta take you around onna Morning and Evening Patrol around the Gardin, well, that's All Right then. Even if you can't shake, it's not as Bad as Good Friday. At least you're still Part Obba Pack, Part Obba Warren. You're not inna Shelter. You haven't been 'bandoned. You're not OnAlone."

"It's like Hunny said," I ventured. "He came back frum Saint-Luke's and told me, 'There is Allus an Egg.' which issa Message of Easter. And that is whut makes Easter The Bestest Day inna Whole Werld. Onna'count obba Fakt that's when alla the horrible fings ob Good Friday Broke Opin like a bird hatchin' outta an Egg innu a New Day. And that's Easter - the New Day outta the Egg."

And Mouse was, like, "George, whuttaheck are you on about? Whut do eggs have to do with ennyfing?"

And I was, like, "Lookit, you know how eggs are. They just sit there, looking all sorta round and everything, with nothing going on. And then, suddinly, Hunny said, just onna'count of nothing, a baby bird pecks it's way out. Hunny said you never know, that there's 'Allus an Egg' and inside of it, there's Hope, just waiting to come out - which is why there are Eggs at Easter.

"And it's also why there are Bunnies at Easter, too - and why Hunny allus went to Saint-Luke's in his baskit on Easter! Onna'count obba Fakt a hole-inna-ground can just be a hole or it can suddinly turn out to be the Entrance to a Warren full of bunnies. It's Metty-fours, Mouse. Like dat pikchur Auntie Carla took ob Our Cuzzin Norman wearin' Easter Bunny Ears..."

And Mouse was, like, "Lookit, I know whutta metty-four is. It's you coming down wiffa suddin case obb'em that's got me werried."

"That's the Whole Fing aboud Easter, Hunny said - You just nebber know!" I said. "It's about Hope-un-looked-for. Like nobunny knew on Good Friday that it would be followed by Easter Sunday - it was Just Anudder Day, until suddinly ev'rybunny waked up and there was Hope."

And Missy piped up, looking straight atta Dawg, "And that's the Whole Fing about you. If Whut's Happined issa Werst That's Happined, don't werry abouddit. You are still heer. We're still heer. Maman and Dadda and Phil are heer. Even the Catz - Cokie and Beep Uppystairs and KayCee, Toby, Munchkin, Lily and Ozzie Downnastairs - are all still heer. And so there is Hope. There issa Egg, as Hunny allus said."

And suddinly Dusty put his nose up, and axted, "Didn't George just tell us aboudda Eggs?"

And Missy was, like, "Shaddup, Dusty! This is aboudda Lore, not about who-said-whut-when! You are a YoungBun and you're sus'posed to Listen and Lern so you can Grow 'Tellygint, like George. Rabbits don't Grow Old, they Grow 'Tellygint, but only if they shaddup and bemember The Lore while it's being told to them." 

And she looked at me. 

Yeah, like I was gonna say ennyfing just about then.

Anna Dawg sighed.

Then he said, "Well, hokay. Then There is Allus an Egg. Dokter PeterBatts did say the ground would get back to Normal preddy soon and ev'ry day, fings do look a liddle bit bedda. And I kinda do like my Noo Job that Maman gave to me."

And Mouse nodded. "Yeah. Four hours of Law & Order yesterday. Fank you for watching me watch it."

"Yeah." Said the Dawg. "And you didn't fall offa sofa or ennyfing. I watched you the whole time, just like Maman said. And I also noticed that you didn't drop Wun RiceChex cereal, though, which I thought wassa liddle bit, well, you know, onna selfish side, seeing as how you hadda whole liddle bowl to yourself."

And Mouse was like, "Um, well, I got caught up studying Jack McCoy being a Prosecutor like Our Auntie Michelle Auletta and Judge Rudy Esquhare (Bless her) were in Sussex County, Noo Yawk. I want to pass my Salad Bar and be a genuine ADA, too!"

And the Dawg said, "Well, you know, like Hunny said, 'There is Allus an Egg.' Which is why I like that job of watching you watch Law & Order - because I live in Hope that wunna these days you're gonna drop Wunna Those RiceChex cereals onna floor, and then I'll more or less Be There, if you know Whut I Mean..."

And although I don't think that's quite the Message of Easter as it was told to me inna Lore by me,Hunny, SeniorBun of Our Warren, I can sorta see Whutta Dawg means...

Because There is Allus an Egg, just like Hunny said.

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

Posted by Our Warren at 10:45 AM EDT

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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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