Destructo-buns

Mom calls Kenzie and me her tiny tornadoes, and with good reason. We lay waste to our surroundings with lightning speed! Why, just this morning Kenzie flung the hay bowl off the top step of our pen. Hay flew everywhere! I did my part by scattering pieces clear out to the living room. By the time we were finished, there wasn't a square inch of our surroundings that wasn't buried in hay.

Usually Mom groans and drags out the vacuum. That poor vacuum. I don't know how it's managed to survive this long. But sometimes, like today, Mom just gives up. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" she moans, picking her way through the rubble. She needn't be so melodramatic. It's just hay. We'll eat it, sooner or later. Personally, I like being able to graze my way through half the house.

Mom tries to blame the sorry state of her housekeeping on us buns, but that's so unfair. It's not OUR fault there's a hairball the size of a small chipmunk in the bathtub drain. And that mountainous heap of unfolded clothes in the bedroom? That has nothing to do with US. Sure, we might try to scale it every now and then, maybe take a little nibble out of a T shirt here or there. We are curious little bunnies and that's what bunnies do.

Mom likes to tell us a story about two good little bunnies who are fastidiously tidy, never shed, and keep their poop piled neatly inside their litterboxes at all times. We don't believe a word of it. Bunnies were born to wreak havoc, and that's just what we do, on a daily basis. Why, Mom wouldn't know what to do without the crunch of hay underfoot. If it wasn't for us, she'd be forced to clean up her own cookie crumbs, and shred her own bills. She really ought to THANK us for our service.

Give credit where credit is due

So Mom had her first job assignment last week, interviewing a local artist about her exhibit and life in general. Mom was nervous to the point of almost being sick. She did all of her research, bought a new tape recorder, and dressed in her nicest "interview clothes", but it still wasn't enough to quell the terror rising within her breast! "Oh, Freddie," she moaned. "How I wish rabbits were allowed in the art museum. I would wrap you in a blankie and take you along with me for moral support!"

Well, we all know how well THAT would go over. She couldn't take ME, but she did end up taking about a half pound of my hair, stuck up and down her good black slacks. Did I mention it's shedding season? Mom said having fuzzy pants would remind her that we, her loyal bunnies, are always with her in spirit, and will love her even if she falls flat on her face and gets fired in disgrace.

She did not fall flat on her face after all. In fact, her piece was printed on the front page of the paper, and she knows exactly who to thank for that! Who sat at her feet while she frantically typed, offering constructive criticism and alternate word choices? Why, I practically wrote the whole article myself, but being a modest and unassuming bunny, would hesitate to point that out to anyone who might ask. Let mom bask in the glory all by herself. WE know the truth.....

Cracking the whip

Mom has been lazy the last two days. She's been lounging around the house in her flannel jammies, eating chocolate pie right out of the pie tin. She'll tell you she has no choice. Sure, we may have had a blizzard. There may be three foot drifts in the driveway. Mom may have made a feeble attempt to dig out using her pitiful plastic shovel. Still, that's no excuse. She's even skipping school tonight!

You won't see Kenzie and me lying around, no sir. Mostly because we're too COLD. The furnace broke down overnight. Mom sleeps with an electric blanket so she didn't notice it at first, but we buns sure did. I let Mom know exactly how I felt about freezing my fluffy little tail off! She woke to hear me THUMP THUMP THUMPING, while icicles formed on my tender little ears!

Would you believe she still didn't get dressed, not even for the furnace repairman? She threw on a fuzzy bathrobe and called it good. She said she's sure he's seen plenty of women in their pajamas before, and besides, he's young enough to be her son. Kenzie went out to greet him, but I stayed safely in the bathroom. Mom will say that's because I was SCARED. I say I was EMBARRASSED.

Anyway, we now have heat, and the driveway's cleared, and Mom is running out of reasons why she should still be lying on the couch watching Dr. Oz instead of cooking or cleaning or tending to us bunnies. She says tomorrow she'll have to break down and take a shower. I just shake my head and go back to demolishing the bag of newspapers by the front door. ONE of us has to have a work ethic!