Mom found out this week that she's been accepted to Eastern Michigan University, with a scholarship! She's been positively giddy, dancing and singing around the house, making a horrendous racket. Sure, we're happy for her and all, but we're trying to NAP here. A little consideration....??
Mom will be striving for a degree in Professional Writing, with a minor in Theatre. She has already enlisted my help with the writing part. She figures I'm already hard at work on these blogs, so I might as well take some time and hack out her homework for her. It's a daunting responsibility. Mom's entire academic future could rest on my furry little shoulders! Let's see if she remembers to give the bunny some credit at graduation....
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Move over, Mom!
So Mom came home today all atwitter! She's been offered a job writing for the local newspaper. She's all excited.
My first question, as always, is how will this affect ME? I'll tell you how. I'm being bumped from my rightful spot as bunny blogger! Mom's kicking me out of the chair and off the keyboard. "Outta my way, I've got a deadline!" she bellers, hacking away feverishly.
Mom insists that I am being "melodramatic". According to her, she's not really usurping my power. She's merely suggesting that we SHARE the computer. So I am expected to stew in my creative juices while she slaps out some nonsense piece about city zoning ordinances or the dearth of affordable downtown parking. What nerve!
Mom says I will have plenty of time to wax poetic while she's off chasing leads and interviewing sources. I fret. I'm used to having free rein at the computer desk. Still, it's about time she started bringing in some cash. She'd been threatening to send Kenzie and me out on the street with a tin cup and a little sign saying "Will poop for food".
My first question, as always, is how will this affect ME? I'll tell you how. I'm being bumped from my rightful spot as bunny blogger! Mom's kicking me out of the chair and off the keyboard. "Outta my way, I've got a deadline!" she bellers, hacking away feverishly.
Mom insists that I am being "melodramatic". According to her, she's not really usurping my power. She's merely suggesting that we SHARE the computer. So I am expected to stew in my creative juices while she slaps out some nonsense piece about city zoning ordinances or the dearth of affordable downtown parking. What nerve!
Mom says I will have plenty of time to wax poetic while she's off chasing leads and interviewing sources. I fret. I'm used to having free rein at the computer desk. Still, it's about time she started bringing in some cash. She'd been threatening to send Kenzie and me out on the street with a tin cup and a little sign saying "Will poop for food".
Monday, January 10, 2011
Focus!
So Mom had her interview today, and she's really annoyed. She wanted to talk about house rabbits and their habits, how to properly care for them and keep them healthy and happy. The reporter wanted to talk about the publishing process and marketing strategies. How dry is that??
Mom dragged me out to pose for an endless array of pictures. I let her know how I felt about things by gnawing a hole in the sleeve of her favorite sweater as she held me. She did not yell at me, in fact, she gave me a cherry half and called me a brave little boy!
Our article should run in Wednesday's paper and Mom is hoping it is not a complete disaster. She doesn't think well on her feet and hemmed and hawed her way through many of the questions. At least I was there to give her encouragement, and a few nips. Kenzie got to stay safely under the bed. So unfair. She got a cherry half too, and she didn't even do any work to earn it!
Mom dragged me out to pose for an endless array of pictures. I let her know how I felt about things by gnawing a hole in the sleeve of her favorite sweater as she held me. She did not yell at me, in fact, she gave me a cherry half and called me a brave little boy!
Our article should run in Wednesday's paper and Mom is hoping it is not a complete disaster. She doesn't think well on her feet and hemmed and hawed her way through many of the questions. At least I was there to give her encouragement, and a few nips. Kenzie got to stay safely under the bed. So unfair. She got a cherry half too, and she didn't even do any work to earn it!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Nervous Nellie
Mom's in a tizzy, working herself up into a lather, all because some humans from the newspaper are coming to the house tomorrow to interview her about my book. Does that sound fair to you? They're interviewing HER, about MY book. Did anybody think to ask for the BUNNY'S perspective? Mom said something about a photo op, which sounds suspiciously like she's going to drag me out from under the bed where I will be peacefully napping and exhort me to "Smile for the camera!" I hope they shoot my good side. But then really, every side is my good side. Not to sound immodest....
Mom's decided that our whole habitat needs an overhaul. Suddenly, stray hay and chewed up paper towels are "embarrassing". And don't get her started on the errant poop pellets she's finding all over the living room. The great big noisy vacuum monster has been working overtime today. When Mom gets in a mood like this, it's best to hunker down and hang on for dear life! If you need me, I'll be cowering under the bed....
Mom's decided that our whole habitat needs an overhaul. Suddenly, stray hay and chewed up paper towels are "embarrassing". And don't get her started on the errant poop pellets she's finding all over the living room. The great big noisy vacuum monster has been working overtime today. When Mom gets in a mood like this, it's best to hunker down and hang on for dear life! If you need me, I'll be cowering under the bed....
Friday, December 31, 2010
Hoppy New Year!
Tonight is New Year's Eve, and Kenzie and I have plans to celebrate in style! Granny sent us a special sea grass chewie just for our holiday enjoyment. We'll nibble on that for a while, then toss around some apple wood sticks, maybe shred some newspaper, and cap off the night with our very own slices of tangerine!
Mom's evening will not be nearly as eventful. It's almost sad, really. She'll camp out on the sofa in her flannel jammies, all alone, with a bottle of wine, watching It's A Wonderful Life and struggling vainly to stay awake past 10 PM. Mom's not exactly a night owl. But then, the elderly always do tend to turn in early.
Mom tells us the new year is a time to make resolutions, declarations of future improvements. She suggested that Kenzie and I give some thought to how we can make her life easier in the coming year. I've wracked my brain and I can't come up with a single thing that we should do differently. Mom, on the other hand, compiled a rather lengthy list for us, with such ridiculous suggestions as "Stop chewing on the box spring", "Eat ALL the broccoli, not just the tasty florets", and "Use your litter box EVERY time".
Whoever heard of such nonsense? I say Mom should stick to her own resolutions and leave us out of it. I've got some ideas for HER. Starting with "I will not vacuum when Frederic is trying to nap". And "Give the bunny a WHOLE grape". And "Just because I go to bed before sundown doesn't mean the bunnies have to". I could go on, but you get the idea.
Mom's evening will not be nearly as eventful. It's almost sad, really. She'll camp out on the sofa in her flannel jammies, all alone, with a bottle of wine, watching It's A Wonderful Life and struggling vainly to stay awake past 10 PM. Mom's not exactly a night owl. But then, the elderly always do tend to turn in early.
Mom tells us the new year is a time to make resolutions, declarations of future improvements. She suggested that Kenzie and I give some thought to how we can make her life easier in the coming year. I've wracked my brain and I can't come up with a single thing that we should do differently. Mom, on the other hand, compiled a rather lengthy list for us, with such ridiculous suggestions as "Stop chewing on the box spring", "Eat ALL the broccoli, not just the tasty florets", and "Use your litter box EVERY time".
Whoever heard of such nonsense? I say Mom should stick to her own resolutions and leave us out of it. I've got some ideas for HER. Starting with "I will not vacuum when Frederic is trying to nap". And "Give the bunny a WHOLE grape". And "Just because I go to bed before sundown doesn't mean the bunnies have to". I could go on, but you get the idea.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Who needs a Hoover?
Kenzie has learned that it's advantageous to follow Mom around when Mom is eating. I'm not saying the woman needs a BIB or anything, just because she leaves debris strewn in her wake....bits of baked goods, chunks of cheese, dollops of dessert--if it's on its way to Mom's mouth, part of it is going to make a pit stop onto the floor.
This is especially exciting now that it's the Christmas season, with all the accompanying cookies and tarts and even fruitcakes. Kenzie waits for Mom to hit the Tupperware full of good stuff, then she knows it's just a matter of time before her share will come tumbling down in front of her.
Mom denies being a slob, of course. "I do NOT eat like a five year old," she sputters, crumbs flying. Mom would have you believe she drops all that food on purpose. "Kenzie looked hungry," she'll insist. "Nothing worse than a scrawny bunny." The hungry part, that's true. Kenzie's got the appetite of a pack of starving sled dogs. Scrawny? Not so much.
Mom is fond of complaining that we bunnies make too much of a mess with our hay, but in our defense, we're only taking after her. If she can leave remnants of her lunch from here to Timbuktu, why, so can we. Everybunny knows that hay tastes even better when it's scattered across the dining room floor.
This is especially exciting now that it's the Christmas season, with all the accompanying cookies and tarts and even fruitcakes. Kenzie waits for Mom to hit the Tupperware full of good stuff, then she knows it's just a matter of time before her share will come tumbling down in front of her.
Mom denies being a slob, of course. "I do NOT eat like a five year old," she sputters, crumbs flying. Mom would have you believe she drops all that food on purpose. "Kenzie looked hungry," she'll insist. "Nothing worse than a scrawny bunny." The hungry part, that's true. Kenzie's got the appetite of a pack of starving sled dogs. Scrawny? Not so much.
Mom is fond of complaining that we bunnies make too much of a mess with our hay, but in our defense, we're only taking after her. If she can leave remnants of her lunch from here to Timbuktu, why, so can we. Everybunny knows that hay tastes even better when it's scattered across the dining room floor.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Hey hey hay
When it comes to hay, Kenzie and I are voracious eaters. We prefer western timothy, specially ordered from Oxbow. Granny buys it for us in 50 pound boxes, so we'll never be caught short.
Recently Mom decided that we were "wasting" too much. "It's bad manners to play with your food," she groused. "Bunnies in India would give their right paws for the hay you take for granted." So Granny made us each our very own hay basket. The idea was that Mom would fill them daily, with our allotted portion, and everything would stay neat and tidy.
You know what they say about best laid plans, don't you? Every morning Mom delicately tucks our hanks of hay into our baskets and sits back and admires her handiwork, then goes on about her day. And every evening she comes home to find hay scattered from one end of the pen to the other, with a goodly portion strewn across the bedroom floor and out into the hall. It never fails to send her into a tizzy.
"HOW can you make such a mess day after day?" she moans, and holds her head. The vacuum is no match for our hay-hurling prowess. Mom has to pick the hay up by hand, piece by individual piece. "A GOOD bunny would feel guilty," she says, but we know better. We are just doing what bunnies were born to do--wreak havoc on a grand scale. Besides, she's always saying she needs more exercise. What better way to get it than cleaning up after us? She really ought to THANK us.
Recently Mom decided that we were "wasting" too much. "It's bad manners to play with your food," she groused. "Bunnies in India would give their right paws for the hay you take for granted." So Granny made us each our very own hay basket. The idea was that Mom would fill them daily, with our allotted portion, and everything would stay neat and tidy.
You know what they say about best laid plans, don't you? Every morning Mom delicately tucks our hanks of hay into our baskets and sits back and admires her handiwork, then goes on about her day. And every evening she comes home to find hay scattered from one end of the pen to the other, with a goodly portion strewn across the bedroom floor and out into the hall. It never fails to send her into a tizzy.
"HOW can you make such a mess day after day?" she moans, and holds her head. The vacuum is no match for our hay-hurling prowess. Mom has to pick the hay up by hand, piece by individual piece. "A GOOD bunny would feel guilty," she says, but we know better. We are just doing what bunnies were born to do--wreak havoc on a grand scale. Besides, she's always saying she needs more exercise. What better way to get it than cleaning up after us? She really ought to THANK us.
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