I bought a bunny.
A white fluffy baby bunny.
A white cute, fluffy, baby wabbit.
It is pure white and has red eyes. (So at least it takes after me with the eyes)
It is called Elmer (as in “ooohh…I am gonna git that pesky wabbit). I am referring to it as “it” because I have zero idea if it is a boy or girl. But being that my cat got up the duff on her first time out, I am not getting another one for it to have some company until I can confirm what it is.
Oh. And it hates me.
But seems to enjoy the company of every other member of the household.
The cats think it is Christmas. You can see the joy in their eyes as they think “Sooo…you get annoyed when I bring in dead or partially alive animals…but you seem to have actually imported our food?” They spend their days sat on top or in front of the cage. You can see in their eyes they are working out how to get in there. Of course, last night I put that bunny on the floor. The boy cat came sauntering in to the kitchen without a care in the world. The bunny took one small hop towards it and the cat shat itself and legged it out of the window. I should rename that cat to “Killer” or something. What a wimp.
It adores the kids and my wife. My eldest daughter can pick it up and it sits there and takes a nap. But if I pick it up you can actually hear it scream in its head. It struggles to get away and ultimately takes a crap on me and then empties its bladder over me. It then sits there. Its twitchy nose staring at me. As if to say “Ha. Take that! By the way….you stink of pee…have a wash”. I hate that wabbit.
To be honest, if it takes a leak on me again after I show it love (no, not that kind…) then it is going to find one of its paws on my keyring, two others hanging from my ears, sell the fourth and make my wife use its tail as a makeup remover. I will cook the little bugger, eat it and it’s ears will be used to pick the chunks of bunny meat from my teeth.
Whose idea was it to get a friggin bunny???
But you know, I am not convinced it isn’t in a power struggle with me. It is what makes me think it is a boy bunny. Boy bunnies are like that. It looks at me. Staring at me from its cage when I watch TV. I can see it plotting my demise. I have started to do random cage checks to see if I can find evidence. All I found was a pencil and a notepad with a picture of a what looked like a family portrait. I could see my children, the 3 cats, my wife and a bunny. They were standing next to what looked like a grave. And the bunny was smiling. I don’t really know what that means, but it is good that it has taken up art. Everyone needs a hobby.
I also found a shopping list. I have no idea why it is buying rope, wood from “Caskets r us”, plots of land and a kitchen knife set. Maybe it is building a playarea in the cage? Not sure. It also had a second shopping list. Some cat nip, some kids toys, some girlie products. I am guessing it hasnt got me anything yet. I understand though, I am notoriously difficult to buy for.
And you know, catnip doesnt work on me anymore….which is good because the last time…well…it wasnt pretty. There I was high as a kite on catnip bunny kicking my kids toys at my wife. The cats confiscated it and I went to a treatment centre. I have been catnip clean for 8 months now. When it comes to catnip I advocate the “Just say meow” line.
But you know…I will keep looking until I find that evidence that it is out to get me. And I will keep my wits about me. I have started a plan to become stronger. To be more. To prepare for that day when the Human/Bunny battle commences.
Of course, if I am wrong and I am incorrectly accusing that poor fluffy white baby wabbit of plotting my demise…well…the little git doesn’t like me anyway. So nothing lost.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 