Posts Tagged ‘bunny’

Humans today throw words around with absolutely no idea how to pronounce them or what they mean yet by using them incorrectly long enough, the words themselves become changed. Take the word “forte” for instance. It’s pronounced “fort,” people, not “for-tay,” “FORT.” Really. Look it up. But people have been screwing it up for so long that even the dictionary finally gave up. I know, you are gong to tell me that language is elastic and that it evolves. I’m just asking, must it evolve to accommodate stupidity? Apparently so.

Additional examples of this exist here in my home state of Indiana. Right now, for instance, I am temporarily staying in the Middle of Nowhere, Indiana which is a mere half hour from Milan, Indiana. That’s pronounced “My-land,” for those of you who, when you first read the word, foolishly thought to yourselves, “Me-lawn”. I feel confident in saying that most of the people who live in Milan, Indiana cannot even conceive of Milan, Italy, of what it has produced and the place it holds in history. I’m equally confident that these humans have no idea why the Travel Channel or the Discovery channel is included in their cable package. If you can’t watch the Bengals on it and scream “Who dey” at the television, what’s the point?  I’m also just a hop, skip and a jump (times a million), or about a half hour, from Versailles, Indiana. Of course, that would be “Ver-sales.” Stop laughing. I’m not making this stuff up. They look at you like you are an idiot if you say it any other way.

So, apparently, in keeping with the parlance of the day, I’m a Muslim. This is obvious because I AM a terrorist. Just ask anyone. I box ankles without reservation, take it upon myself to destroy anything in my purview with which I disagree and generally rain fear down all around me. At least, that’s my goal. It was easier when I still had my front teeth. (Damn those abscesses.) I also fully support the terrorist actions of others. Earlier this week Samwise Bunny chewed a huge hole into the side of a Samsonite carry-on and ate right through the handle. I was impressed. Just like al Jazera, I’m posting this photo on my site.

Sam's Suitcase

Domestic Terrorism (Sam is from Kentucky)

Now, I know many of you are saying, “This can’t be! Arliss isn’t a Muslim. She is a known follower of the Great Pumpkin. We made a HUGE, overblown, mountain-out-of-nothing about this just two years ago when we decided she was following a Great Pumpkin preacher that we didn’t like. We published a bizillion photos of her with her Great Pumpkin preacher. We spent millions of dollars of valuable network time talking about it. We had a special chyron!”

I say, “chyron shmyron!” because in addition to being a Muslim, I am not qualified to be the President of the United States. You see, I don’t wear my birth certificate on my forehead and my mother was an ENGLISH lop so, clearly, despite the wealth of evidence associated with my domestic birth, including the testimony of several humans who were present, my thrice verified birth certificate and local newspapers of the day which noted my birth, I am still considered foreign-born by a full 30% of the population.

Beer Good, Education Bad

Chart 1: Beer Good, Education Bad

I am even further unqualified to be President because you don’t think you would want to have a beer with me. You think I’m too smart, too educated and not at all like you and we all know how qualified YOU are to be President. OBVIOUSLY, when you compare the essential requirement of beer-buddy to the frivolous extravagance of intelligence and education, there is no question what-so-ever that I am not Presidential material. Since I don’t have a chalkboard, here’s a handy chart.

But let’s be clear here, I AM a terrorist. “No!” you say?

You don’t know me. I’m THAT disapproving*.

*See previous post references to me as a Famous Disapproving Rabbit.

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[With Helpful Illustrations]

I’m telling you now, I don’t get this whole mosque thing. Oh, I listen to MSNBC and CNN AND Fox. I have all the information. I still don’t get it.

1. First we have New York City, a place which celebrates itself as the center of the diplomatic United Nationsand financial world.  Wall StreetPersonally, I’m a big fan of the park. I’ve seen pictures. Central Park

2. Next we have lunatic humans plowing planes into buildings, the WTC and the Pentagon, and killings thousands. Bunny lives were lost too but you didn’t notice. You were all in shock and too sad to pay any attention. We forgive you. It was an awful time for everyone.

3. Now, we have Sufi Muslims trying to go through the proper channels to get the approval to build a community center and small mosque two blocks away from the original site of the WTC. In response all manner of talking-head-hell has broken loose. "You're wrong!" "No, you're wrong!"

I should clarify here, for those who missed it behind all the hot air being expended, that Sufism is a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT branch of Islam than that of the terrorists. The terrorists were Sunni. The Sufi and the Sunni aren’t “kind of the same thing” or “hard to tell apart,” they are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. As in, it’s one thing to blame the Jehovah’s Witness’ for Michael Jackson. It’s another thing entirely to blame the Mormons. [To further clarify, there are also the Shi’a, as in the nutjobs that run Iran, but don’t get me started on that.]

Now, let’s say for the sake of argument, that it is acceptable to blame an entire group of people or faith for the actions of selected individuals. Let’s just imagine that I am good with that. Adolph Hitler Adolph Hitlerwas, for instance, a Catholic. So let’s ban all Catholic churches in Germany and Israel…and any around the WTC, just to be safe. Also, Timothy McVeigh Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building was a Catholic too so, clearly, that’s it for the Catholic church anywhere near the site of the Oklahoma City bombing. WOW! When you think about it, the Catholics have really been trouble from the beginning, trying to convert everyone all over the world to their religion with their Crusade, their Inquisition, Inquisition torture Friday the Thirteenth and their seditious missionaries. Obviously, they want everyone to be under the rule of Rome and they aren’t shy about butchering those who disagree.

And then there are the Mormons. They have a CLEARLY stated plan for world domination and the missionaries, money and growth in numbers to back it up. They are even bent on getting Mormons elected to the highest offices in this land. Mitt Romney Also, have you seen their temples fortresses? No windows down low, huge high walls set on strategically defensible land. Tell me those aren’t people with an organized plan.

Okay, so far we have eliminated Catholic churches in several locations and two countries and we are keeping an eye on those Mormons. Who’s next? I’m currently checking into the United Church of Christ. You really have to watch them because they support tolerance…just like the Sufi Muslims. That’s right, tolerance.

tolerance |ˈtäl(ə)rəns|
1 the ability or willingness to tolerate something, in particular the existence of opinions or behavior that one does not necessarily agree with

Need I say more?!?! Both the UCC and Sufis believe that it is okay if you believe something different than they do! These silly people actually think that faith is something internal, that you practice for yourself – not something you shove down the throats of others AND they think that the best way to spread their message is to have places around the world so that other people can come inside, of their own free will, and learn something. *shock* *gasp*

Now I have a LOT to say about Sunni and Shi’a Islam – what’s right with it, what’s wrong with it but I won’t bore you with that because here’s one thing I know for sure, NEITHER ONE OF THEM IS SUFI ISLAM. THUMP!!!

And even if this community center was being built by Sunni Muslims, is the founding principle of religious freedom so thin and fragile in this country that you are willing to sacrifice it on any alter (fear, bigotry, grief, political gain, 15 minutes of fame?) Freedom of religion is one of the backbones of the country and has extended a grace to this nation found in precious few places in the world. So, you have to ask yourself, do you want to be more like Saudi Arabia or more like Canada because this, people is one of those tipping point moments. Al-Qaeda and the Taliban are already using your hate and bigotry about this mosque as a recruitment tool. Do you really want to be a part of making their lives any easier? If so, what does that make you?

Today, I overheard a talking head saying something like:

Head: …well, if we could just be guaranteed that the form of Islam taught in mosques in this country was peaceful and not anti-government then…

This statement made me perk up my ears, which is going some because…you know, lop ears – harder to perk,

Seriously, perking ears is a challenge for lops.

and I got to thinking…what if we threw out part of that pesky “freedom of speech” thingie and did monitor what was taught in mosques. That might be good. Then I thought, oooooh, we should throw in the Christian churches too because there are many more Christian pastors preaching against the government right now than there are Muslim ones. PreacherThat would solve everything, right?

To summarize, we have eliminated Catholic churches in several locations and two countries. we are keeping an eye on those Mormons, we are viewing anyone tolerant with suspicion and we have spies in all the churches, mosques and temples. Whew! Good work guys! I think you are making real progress…backwards.

May the Great Pumpkin bestow his blessings upon you all. Great Pumpkin God [Note:  my God tastes better than your God – especially in pie.]

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Before the revolution, meaning before it became more common for bunnies to live indoors and receive the level of health care rightfully accorded to most house rabbits, we lived short and very often miserable lives at the hands of careless, or at the very least uneducated, humans. However, in the last twenty years or so, great inroads have been made. More and more buns are living to be happy, healthy elder buns – including me. I’m nearly eleven. (Mia, next door, is almost twelve and her bonded partner, Moesha, who passed earlier this year, was fourteen.) Of course, the virtues of this are immediately apparent:

1. we have a longer time to hatch and execute our plots to take over the world (or is that just me?);

2. we have the proximity necessary to wrap humans around our little paws and make them dance like marionettes (or, again, is that just me?); and

3. instead of working every day on just staying alive, we have the time to become technically savvy so that we can…. (opps! I may have said too much…. Bwhahaha!).

Anyway, at the heart of all of this is the improved diet and health care afforded the modern house bun. That being said, I have some thoughts on the American health care system. I know, it has been a big subject in the media this year and I am late to the debate but I have been busy with other projects (see list above) and it was not until I was reminded, just this week, of how much I disapprove of  the current health care system that I felt compelled to comment.

Let’s start with the location. How is it that in order to, supposedly, feel better, I must first be packed, unwillingly, into a carrier and transported nearly half way across the known universe in order to receive an appropriate level of care? What’s the deal?!?! The dog who lives here can literally WALK three blocks to get to a veterinarian. Obviously, the education for most veterinarians is grossly lacking and must be completely overhauled. I am clear on the fact that I am both exceptional and notable enough to rate a specialist but that doesn’t excuse the local vet from being absolutely useless (and a known bunny killer, having used the wrong antibiotic on an unfortunate local bun.) Human universities need to get it together and prepare ALL of their veterinary graduates with at the very least the BASICS of bunny care. What could POSSIBLY be more important? Thump!

Now let’s move on to the facilities. What’s the deal with bunnies having to share with predators? This past week I was placed on a scale wich very clearly smelled of both dog and cat. There were no members of those species immediately apparent in the room but they can be shifty, especially cats, and one can never be too careful. (Mia tells me that Moesha’s personal mantra was “everyone eats bunnies, bunnies don’t eat anyone.” This strikes me as defeatist but not unwise.) My response, since the scale was on the floor, was to make a run for it. I got about six hops away before my efforts were mitigated by my being snatched up into the air. Hurrumph! My point being, humans clearly insist upon human-only medical facilities and I think bunnies and other non-predatory species should band together and do the same. Also, would it be so hard to have a scale made of some non-slippy material? Seriously, people, you try to stand there with fur covering 100% of the bottom of your paws! Thump! Thump!

I do find that the doctors and staff at the specialists which have attended to me to be, in the norm, as respectful as possible given the abhorrent circumstances. My most recent visit involved meeting Dr. Rebecca Naas, of Cincinnati’s Glenway Animal Hospital, for the first time. Dr. Naas was kind enough to sit on the floor to examine me and I have to tell you, this is very much appreciated since those examination tables really give me the creeps, not to mention flashbacks to earlier, unspeakably horrible experiences. Dr. Naas gave me a thorough exam and carefully checked my eyes all without having to have me more than one hop up off the ground. She also spoke directly with me. (I absolutely HATE it when doctors talk about me and not to me – it’s SO insulting.) She and I agreed that while my cataracts are much worse, my eyes are both “quiet” with zero indications of infection either there or anywhere else. We discussed the inevitability of aging and I have accepted this as one unfortunate part of the process. She even offered to refer me to a veterinary ophthalmologist should I have any further concerns. I elected to attempt a second escape at that moment so I think I made it plain that I am just fine, thank you, and not in need of another ride in the crate or another doctor poking at me. In general, as far as doctors go, I liked her and would recommend her to other buns. (Mia, btw, tells me that she sees another doctor in that same practice, a Dr. Diana Dornbusch Cron, and absolutely raves about her – as if a veterinarian COULD actually “walk on water.”)

As for the cost of health care, frankly, not my problem directly it still is a matter worthy of disapproval.  I endured several procedures in an attempt to address awful recurring infections prior to having my front teeth extracted (I still have PTSD about that and don’t really wish to discuss it here), have had numerous well-checks and this most recent trip to have my eyes evaluated. My medical expenses, therefore, have been substantial. This, of course, is nothing in comparison to my personal value. It does, however,  speak to the level of commitment necessary from my humans. I have no problem with the jobs they need to work in order to support me in the manner which I so richly deserve and to which I have become accustomed but it is worth saying that the cost of health care is one of the reasons bunny servitude (formerly known as bunny ownership) must not, at present, be undertaken lightly. More importantly, it serves to highlight the urgent need for national health care insurance for all members of the fur-covered community. While it is true that Bo, President Obama’s dog, and I will never be close friends, I do think we share this as a core value. I am expecting Bo to work toward this as a personal goal for the balance of the Obama presidency. I will vote accordingly.

Well, I must hop. An episode of Pinky & the Brain is coming on. It’s my favorite show. I even take notes sometimes. I’m thinking it will save me from making some of the same mistakes as my plans progress for… … …nevermind….

Pinky & the Brain

Pinky & the Brain

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As you, my followers, will recall, my last blog contained a poll and from this poll I learned two important things:  first, the blame rests squarely on the blueberries and second, I am taking over the world. In regard to the former, I should have suspected the evil berries at the outset but they wooed me with their yummieness and, disguised in those little blue jackets, they didn’t seem like they could possibly be at fault. Upon taking a second look (and after drying off *grumble*) it is clear to me that they were of ill intent from the outset. Lesson learned.

You may be wondering, as followers are wont to do, what I mean when I say I am taking over the world. Two words, “social media.” My insistence that my staff provide the resources necessary to connect me to the social masses means that there is now a practically infinite number of bunnies and humans who can readily be exposed to my every thought and comment on all the many things of which I disapprove.

Arliss' Bunspace Badge

Arliss' Bunspace Badge

Just this past weekend, I committed myself to sharing my wisdom on Twitter (ArlissBunny) and I am experimenting with Bunsapce. I am entertained by the fact that my secretary has been tweeting for something like a year and has only thirty-five followers while I have been actively tweeting for three days and already have thirty. I anticipate crushing her in the coming days. Bunsapce seems a bit froofy for me but a number of interesting resources are available there and I do like seeing pictures of all the bunnies and reading their stories.

On social media, a few general remarks are in order:

Twitter: I positively and without reservation HATE the World Cup for screwing up Twitter beyond all recognition. Equally to blame is Twitter for not knowing that little tiny birds can’t carry whales. If that’s your plan folks, try again. You and BP apparently went to the same school for contingency planning.

Additionally, while looking around on Twitter, I learned that I am definitely a liberal. This determination was made based upon the fact that I am a vegan, against human overpopulation of the planet, blame all environmental woes on humans and am pro gun control, though I still stick with the stance I espoused in my earlier blog, “Approval, Grapes and Guns.” The humans who provide my staff services do not necessarily support all of my opinions but that is to be expected. They aren’t really all that bright, after all.

The other thing I find about Twitter is that it creates in me an urge to pontificate on all manner of things about which I, basically, know nothing, like today’s SCOTUS decision on patent law. I’m my own best creation and I can’t be replicated, so why would I give a flying flip kick about patent law? Twitter is subversive that way.

Bunspace: Bunspace is a whole different warren of bunnies. Instead of being filled with all the sports and political crazies, Bunspace is chockfull of bunny crazies. Ok, I consider this an improvement but still, virtual carrots? I don’t get it.

And here’s the last take away on what I have derived from my experience thus far with social media:  nearly seventy humans took my poll. Seriously, people, nearly seventy of you cared enough to take a poll on what or who was to blame for poopy butt. Doesn’t this cause you worry for your species? I know it does me. Never-the-less, I’m planning to ride my fame to its zenieth, utilize my following to subvert the ruling class and then take over the world. Arliss, out.

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It’s so horrible. I can barely bring myself to tell you about The Incident. There I was, out minding my own business, hoping through my kingdom when, suddenly, events overtook me. Actually, I seem to have hopped ahead of myself.

Let’s begin with who is at fault. First of all, of course, Amy (of Gripping Commentary fame) for taking away my primary means of self-expression and clean-up. Even if everything had still happened just as it did, at the very minimum I could have made my rather extreme thoughts on the matter known. Second, my current staff, who just wandered off and left the door to Clover and Mia’s area open thinking they were “just going to be gone for a few minutes.” Seriously! Like that was responsible behavior? Finally, I blame Clover and Mia for being at the far end of their area, standing there and just letting it all happen. Thanks, you two, we will be taking this up after I have fully recovered.

Anyway, back to my story. There they were, six blueberries, lying a few inches inside the door, cut in half and prepared precisely as they should have been – blueberries on the half-shell. There was no one anywhere near them. They had been there for nearly three minutes and I was certain they were going to wilt before Clover bothered to hop himself across to eat them. (Even if Mia had come over in time, she would only have had one or two halves. She’s careful that way.) Obviously, this was a tragedy in the making and I was the only one there with any hope of saving the situation. I did what any respectable bunny would do, I hopped in and ate all six berries. I have to tell you, it was close but I managed it, not a single berry wilted.

Of course, at that very moment, my staff returned, there were loud exclamations and I found myself being hoisted, very unceremoniously, up into the air as if it were I who had been in error. (I refer you again to paragraph two, above, if you have any questions regarding fault.) I was returned to my own space and, get this, the two blueberries which had been left for me were actually removed! (Very rude if you ask me.)

All of this leads us up to last night when…I’m searching for the right words…the worst disaster involving my tail which can possibly be imagined. Suffice to say that seventy minutes of bathing and clipping took place. Bathing…with a sprayer hose! BATHING! And I can’t even go into the fur-cut that came out of it all. There’s just no amount of personal grooming that is going to make this alright. *thump* *Thump* *THUMP*

Now that you know the story, and in light of all the horror, I have decided to take a poll so that blame can be properly assigned. You are welcome to vote as many times as you like.

In conclusion, I know that there are those, Mia included, who view this as a matter of karma and that may be so but if it is, karma isn’t a bitch, it’s definitely a blueberry. *thump*

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1. Your wearing of the black dress slacks is NOT MY PROBLEM! *thump* Like all bunnies, I reserve the right not only to be covered in fur at all times but to release my fur whenever I see fit. Your slacks seem like the perfect opportunity for self-expression. My suggestions are to a) carry a lint roller 24/7, b) wear jeans or c) go naked. What ever you do, however, I insist that you never, ever, under any conditions, imply that the fur thing is a bunny problem. Bunnies have no problem with fur. The fur thing is a human problem.

2. My name is Arliss and I am a GIRL. Use of male pronouns is not appreciated. Just because my slave name is considered a “male” name by some uneducated fools does not mean that I should accept such insult without thumping. *thump!*

3. So, I was watching the news the other day, because it was on in the front room while I was hopping through, and I have to say you humans just really don’t have a clue. The oil thing in the Gulf is another perfect example of massive human hubris. *thump* When will you get it? Having opposable thumbs and large brains doesn’t give you the right to do what ever you want. What they give you is the burden of having to be responsible for your actions. One way or another, the Earth will have its way and you better not screw anything else up for bunnies! (Or whales since, I have to admit, I kind of approve of whales.)

4. How long can one complete gutting of the entire second floor of a house and full remodel take?!?! As I understand it, it will be at least another month before I can move back upstairs into the new rooms. *thump* What is it with contractor time? Is it like dog years?!?! David – any input here?

Does contractor time equal dog years?

A question from an inconvenienced bunny.

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It is incumbent upon me, as a prime representative of my species, to continue to drive us forward, to seek new horizons, to conquer new lands and then to rule over them with an iron paw. This I have done. Here, in Just to the Right of Nowhere, I have expanded the borders of my lands to include the ENTIRE first floor of the house (well, except for that one un-renovated room which doesn’t have air conditioning and is uncomfortably warm this time of year.) I have navigated the furthest reaches of the parlor, front room, laundry porch, master bath, kitchen and the dining room. I own them. Those that live there do so by my leave. I am considering raising taxes.

The most difficult challenge was facing down the large, vicious predator who roams these lands. They call her “Eleanor” and you can tell just by looking at her that she is a killer. You laugh, but her tail can really knock you upside the head. I, of course, am clever enough to duck and keep my ears down. Also, she licked me a once, just a little, and that took HOURS to groom off. Ewwwwwwwwwww!


Eleanor the Goldendoodle

My favorite thing to do during my perambulations around my estates is to hide behind the couches or under chairs. This drives the staff crazy and has resulted in several lengthy searches all of which I consider terribly entertaining and the cherry on top of my day.

Arliss Dines

Dinner is served.

Speaking of cherries, I have found that I approve of both cherries and raspberries though I should say that in the singular because if I have more than one it leads to an unfortunate situation involving my tail which I prefer to avoid. Just last night I was offered some beet leaf and I am taking it under advisement. My usual dinner salad includes cilantro, parsley, kale, endive, Brussels sprout, escarole, green leaf lettuce and Boston lettuce with a mini-carrot appetizer and Bunny Basics-T for dessert. All three courses are paired with a lovely soft water which I very much enjoy. I’m looking forward to the dandelion and other treats that come along with summer salads. The staff here prepares all my salads especially for me by chopping everything up into small pieces so that I can pick them up with my lips and chew them with my back teeth. Not having any front teeth is something of which I very much disapprove as I would be using them not only to eat but to express my disapproval at critical times.

Arliss explores.

Arliss conquers new lands.


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There aren’t enough thumps in the world to express how incensed I am about the inability of my current staff to manage time in such a way as to be able to get my latest missive posted. It’s almost as if they have something more important to do! *aggravated ear shake*

Mia, who kindly agreed to assist me in improving my thump.

I should tell you that I have not just been sitting idly by during my absence from the web and while it may appear, based upon past posts, that I think overly highly of myself and diminish everyone else, I must assure you that this is not the case. In fact, late in March I discovered that I had a fault. It was, admittedly, a harrowing realization and an area which I immediately moved to correct. It all started one day when I was minding my own business and borrowing some hay from the other side of the fence. Mia, who happens to live on the other side, took notice and firmly thumped me. I was shocked. Shocked, I say! This was not because of the thump itself but rather its volume and timbre. Mia, who is half my size, put out a thump bigger than any rabbit I have ever heard. The floor literally shook. The humans downstairs jumped. It was the single most impressive disapproval I had ever heard. I was in awe. I simply HAD to learn how she did it.

I was in awe.

With the understanding that I would no longer use her hay for my own purposes, Mia agreed to give me thumping lessons. We started later that day and worked on it over the next week with excellent result. First she would thump then I would try to replicate her technique, then she would go again and then me. We would go back and forth for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time and I must say that my hard work really paid off. I have adjusted my angle of attack and timing just enough to really maximize the velocity and consequent volume of my thumps. I feel I can now say that my shortcoming has been addressed and I can move on with a pristine slate.

The thing about self-improvement is that it really gets one to thinking. Doing all that work on thumping did allow me to recognize that I had my own gifts in that area. I have genuinely excellent rhythm. I have always been artistic, having nibbled many articles on the subject. Additionally, I have always been into interior decoration, putting my personal stamp on every place I have ever lived. It was not, however, until I became focused on my thumping that I realized that I am a musician as well. With the stark realization of my own musical gifts laid right at my paws, I immediately called upon my contacts and went into the studio. The result is my first single,  Hate on Me.  For those of you without the musical ear or facility, my thumping begins several bars into the piece. I feature a double and occasionally a triple thump in addition to my exceptional single thump work. I must say that I am thrilled with the efforts of all of my backing musicians though I am unhappy with the mix because I feel the singer has been brought to the forefront making the less sophisticated listener work harder to hear me. (I have already spoken with my agent about it and I am assured that future releases will not have this problem.)

I find the lyrics to this piece particularly moving because they express my feeling that I don’t really give a flying thump what anyone else thinks. I hope you enjoy it but, of course, if you don’t that’s your problem.

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I sware, if I hear “cute” and “bunny” in the same sentence just one more time I’m going to vomit and since rabbits literally can’t throw-up it would be quite a feat but, trust me, I’ll get it done. Even thinking about “cute” gives me a bitter taste in the back of my throat, just a little but it’s there. Also, I should be clear, it isn’t so much that “cute” is a problem, it’s that humans are, as has already been long-established, idiots.

There is this one day of the year which some humans have named “Easter.” (We in the rabbit community know it is really International Bunny Day but more on that later.) On Easter, many foolish humans give bunnies as, how humiliating is this, gifts. The poor bunny, usually a baby, is the center of attention for a day or two and then within the circle of banal human attention for another few weeks but just about the time the bunny is a teenager, the humans lose interest entirely. Then one of several things happen. The bunny gets put outside in a hutch or, even worse than that, a sweet, defenseless domestic bunny is turned out into a park or a field. The key here, people, is the word domestic. Domestic rabbits are no more fit to care for themselves in the wild than is a single six-year old human in a forest or jungle. Among other things, rabbits are both strictly prey animals and wild rabbits survive, for their short lives, only in social communities. The average lifespan of a wild rabbit is thought to be about eighteen months. Whereas, a properly cared for domestic bunny in the household where I am presently residing just passed away recently at fourteen years of age. Domestic rabbits released rarely survive more than a few days due to predation and any number of other threats which they are ill prepared to navigate. Oh, there are stories of exceptions but those are few in comparison to the thousands of bunnies who, each year, lose their lives to such carelessness.

Now, let’s discuss the whole concept of the hutch. This contraption was originally invented to house rabbits who were intended for (*gulp*) livestock. Hutches meet virtually none of the basic needs of a rabbit and are responsible for driving many a rabbit insane as in, “Ouch, that rabbit I have been keeping in this inhumane hutch just bit me!” Of course it did, moron, you drove it past the point of breaking. Hutches do not provide nearly enough space or temperature control for rabbits to survive or remain mentally healthy. Did you know that the underground dens of wild rabbits range in temperature from 68° in the Winter to the mid-seventies in the Summer. In other words, never too warm or too cold. Additionally, wild bunnies can huddle together within an enclosed space for added warmth if necessary. Hutches are much too hot in the Summer and far too cold in the Winter. Rabbits either die of heat stroke or freeze to death on a regular basis all across the country. Also, the wire grids of hutch floors cause sores on the paws of bunnies which are not only painful but from which infection can spread. Here’s the most horrible statistic of all. Every year, thousands of bunnies are purchased at Easter and by the next year fewer than ten percent of them are still alive.

So what can you humans do?

Well, first of all, you can pass my blog on to your friends because, among all my other pearls of wisdom, it includes this important link to Make Mine Chocolate™, a campaign to encourage people to purchase chocolate bunnies instead of real ones. Make Mine Chocolate™ is an important cause which saves lives and the yummy chocolate bunnies fund the rescue of abandoned Easter buns. It’s a win-win.

If you are still considering a rabbit, and we can be a good fit in some homes, then check out the information at the Interactive Bun and at the font of rabbit information the House Rabbit Society. Obviously, if you are planning to bring a rabbit into your home, then adopting is always a great route because so much of the homework on the bun has already been done for you as well as, in most cases, the neutering or spaying. Fabulous buns are always to be found at your local chapter of the House Rabbit Society. As a personal note, I just want to add that I was recently made aware of a bun who is, I am told, very much like me, and who is available for adoption from the kind people at the Red Door Shelter in Chicago. Arabella is a precocious girl and, because we are nearly twins, a stunning rabbit. Arabella would love to find a wonderful Forever Home as would all the bunnies currently waiting in shelters.

Easter Origins

Some humans think that a celebration at this time of year, originated with a religious holiday and they are right. It’s just not the one of which they are usually thinking. We bunnies have been celebrating for thousands of years longer than most of the current major human religions.

As we well know, twice a year the day and night are very, very nearly the same length. March 19 to 20 is what is called the Spring or Vernal Equinox. Eggs and rabbits have, for thousands of years, been associated with fertility and with the Spring equinox. In fact, many Arab countries celebrate Mother’s Day at this time. Long before Christianity, when the Goddess of Spring, the not coincidentally named Eostre, was celebrated at the Spring Equinox. Magical or Spirit Hares were associated with her. (Again, a fertility thing.) In those days, young children excitedly awaited the gifts brought by Eostre’s Hares, which were often… surprise…colored eggs. Today, rabbits, which are a different species than are hares, have supplanted the less common and never domesticated hares but the tradition has remained.

I, personally, as a Famous Disapproving Rabbit, have never really gotten into the egg thing because I often have other plans but I have noticed that many other bunnies really get up for it. I overheard Mia, Clover, Madalyn and Samwise in a planning meeting just a couple of days ago. Clover was beaming in the satellite feed, (What… you thought those rabbit ears were just for hearing?) and the four of them were coordinating with other local buns to make sure that Just to the Right of Nowhere is covered. This means that on Easter morning, all the rest of the bunnies around here will be exhausted and I will be able smoothly launch my plan to take over the world. Bwhahaha! Once my plan is underway, it should put the whole “cute” thing to rest once and for all. See…wheels within wheels.

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You may have noticed that I have been fairly quiet these past few days. This is because I recently found out that the place where I am staying, Rising Sun, Indiana (also known as Just to the Right of Nowhere, if you have been following my blog), is directly across the Ohio River from RABBIThash, Kentucky! As in, if you hop up on the window ledge, as I did when I invaded Madalyn and Samwise’s room the other day, you can look right across to it. Very traumatic. What was Amy thinking! Obviously, I have paid for the overnight FedEx of that Winchester I had previously been discussing. Since I firmly believe that preparation is the key to success, I am educating myself on what it means to be so close to Kentucky. [I was going to say, “A well prepared rabbit is a successful rabbit,” but adjusted in light of the overall subject matter.]

First of all, Rabbithash is small – so I think I could take ‘um.

Secondly, the mayor is a dog. Actually, it’s their second dog mayor in a row which tells you two things about the human residents. We all know that rabbits are smarter than dogs, so if the dogs are literally running the executive branch of this town, that doesn’t speak very well of the humans. Additionally, these humans have a strange, possibly psychotic obsession with us animals. I think it is cause for grave concern.

In looking more deeply into the entire matter of Kentucky I find that, while it may have its strong points (anyone out there ever tasted this “blue grass” and, if so, please report back) it also is home to the Creation Museum. In fact, one has to pass this ludicrous place when traveling from here to Rabbithash. A trip which I, of course, will never be making. The Creation Museum was founded by humans who are trying to “prove” that the earth is only 6000 years old. I do not find this either insane or dim, I find it to be purposefully ignorant, a state for which there is no excuse. If humans ever stop to wonder why they seem to be moving backwards while we bunnies continue to evolve, it would be because we aren’t wasting our time trying to prove a fairy tale. Bunnies deal in reality. It’s something one learns quickly as a young bun. Basically, at the very same time our mother is teaching us about the “food chain” – as in “everyone eats bunnies, bunnies don’t eat anyone.” Now, I’ll grant you, how each one of us chooses to live is our own individual choice. Some perfectly nice buns I have known have elected to live their lives from a place of fear. Some poor bunnies have had the necessity of fear forced upon them due to conditions generated by cruel humans. Still others have emerged from such circumstances with a clear understanding that fear may be what keep them alive during an immediate crisis but it is no way to live an entire life.

I, obviously, subscribe to the “No Fear” school but Samwise is a perfect example of a bun who has survived Kentucky-based adversity. Sam was in a small hutch, in Kentucky, with four other bunnies all of whom were very nearly abused and starved to death. One of Sam’s friends, in fact, did not survive. It took the good humans nearly a year to nurse Sam back to health. He is now a lovely, glossy boy who spends his days relaxing and snuggling with Madalyn. Sam is easy-going and was very pleasant to me when we met but he is quite afraid of most people. I find this to be a reasonable compromise. Such a sweet rabbit, nearly murdered in Kentucky, has earned the right to be cautious.

I asked Sam what he thought about being just a hop, skip and a jump from Rabbithash. He assures me that he’s keeping an ear cocked and always sleeps with one eye open. I loaned him my Winchester catalog.

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