I am resisting the urge to title this post Dumb Bunnies, as it
carries the double meaning of non-noise making creatures and their collective nickname.
"Those dumb bunnies knocked over their food again." And Fucking
Bunnies, as an adjective and a verb heard frequently as in, "Those
fucking bunnies are doing it again!" I attempt to attach to our new pets,
the as yet unnamed, brown bunny and black bunny.
It has been more than a year since the cats moved in with my parents. The
expense of travel, the risk of losing them, or leaving them behind, was too
much. I love animals and miss having pets. A trip to the Flower and Bird
Market in Hongqiao in September provided two baby bunnies to fill the pet void
in the Maguire home.
Just like my two black kitties, I suspect this black bunny will be big and
fat. Adventurous and friendly, she even sleeps in my lap and jumps on my
keyboard inspiring bunny centric posts. Yes, I have a favorite. Don’t tell
brown bunny.
On the Internet people love them. In person, people hate their
bunnies and are sad, but kind of happy when the bunny dies. I get that. According to Google,
they are litter trainable. I think they poop every time they hop. Watching one do
a silly side hop/jump and poop combination, I recall something from the
outdoor bunny I had as a kid. I remember something about that bunny
pooping when jumping, or jumping with excitement when he pooped. Litter training is taking several months. My house smells
like poop.
I had the idea they were like cats, but better because they don’t scratch furniture. Then I look across my floor and see poop. I can see the
whole hardwood floor because the zebra rug is folded on the chair. Who knew
bunnies would eat zebra? Fucking bunnies.
My house also smells like teenage male rodent. Oh, and if you are wondering,
they do it like bunnies. Turns out what we thought was litter play was juvenile
sexual exploration that required a human chaperone. At long last, our
splayed-legged, brown bunny’s testicles descended and were removed at Pet
Zoo on New Year's Day. Guess how much I love you now, No Nut Brown Hare? If you are still wondering,
it is more than before.
In order to determine the sex I would flip them over and examine their
bunny parts while searching Yahoo for detailed photos. The search terms led to Brown
Bunny. “Quick children look over there, a unicorn!” I shouted as I slammed
down the laptop cover. That was close. Turns out Brown
Bunny is not a children’s movie. Henceforth brown bunny will be referred to
as white bunny.
Every 12 hours they act like I haven’t fed them in days. Pouring food I
mock them, “Hey dumb bunnies, in the last 12 hours you ate some, knocked some
onto the bottom of your cage, and then shit and peed on the rest. Let this be a
lesson to you. It is not my fault if you are hungry bunnies. Shit goes in the
litter box!” I may be obsessed with the poop problem.
What will happen to the bunnies a year and a half from now? Within 24
hours of moving into our house they were attacked by the
neighborhood pack of wild 4, 5, and 6-year-old humans and survived. Option one, we will
attempt to find an adoptive family. Option two, bunny-boo, includes earmuffs and stew.
I have a friend here who raised rabbits as a kid and has offered to
help if we follow through on this option. No joke, that's why it's funny. The kids look at the zebra and
then at me and cry. The FSO isn’t laughing either.
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