We got our dog a pet bunny. Not on purpose. It was very much an accident. Still, that’s what happened, and now here we are.
This is my lap at home.
ALL THE TIME.
Someone please bring me coffee and a bedpan. I’m not moving anytime soon.
So what happened, you ask? Fine; I shall tell you. Here’s the long version.
My kid has a friend, and the friend’s name is Rowan.
Prior to last summer, my kid and Rowan were not friends but then they went to camp together, and they realized they love all the same things like fire and ball jokes and running through the woods with knives. They laugh a lot. It’s usually maniacal and centered on what types of readily-available accelerants make the highest flames but they haven’t burned the house down yet, and, if one can judge by the number of times one overhears them say things like, “oops,” and “maybe we shouldn’t do that again,” and “or at least stand further back next time,” they’re learning, so ONWARD, BOYS. LEARN AWAY. TRY TO KEEP THE INJURIES TO A MINIMUM.
So. Rowan lives on a farm.
And Rowan has one dog, two cats, two goats — maybe three, but I spent all my time talking to this one so I can’t be sure —
and at least one chicken. Probably more, because I don’t think anyone in Oregon has just one chicken, but that’s all I saw the dog chase so I can’t be sure. Maybe there are 20 chickens but only one dumb enough to bait the dog. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s a mystery, and it shall remain a mystery because I’m not going back to count.
Rowan also has bunnies.
He used to have three bunnies: Petunia, the rescue bunny who likes to live alone and growls at everyone except Rowan’s sweet mama; and Bracken and Seth, the lop-eared boy bunny besties whom Rowan adopted several months ago as wee little ones and who spend all their time snuggling.
But then Rowan had seven bunnies because Bracken and Seth loved each other very much and very often, and it turns out Seth had a teeny tiny secret which resulted in four baby bunnies, discovered by Rowan one day at approximately one week old, hiding in the straw of Seth and Bracken’s cage.
And finally, after Rowan had seven bunnies, Rowan had thirteen bunnies, because it turns out bunnies can get pregnant again 24 hours after they give birth, and, well, Seth and Bracken had a window so they humped like rabbits and made six more baby fuzzies.
Happily, Seth is an excellent mommy. Or a daddy. I don’t know (or care) how Seth identifies; Seth should just be the best Seth he can be. He’s a good caregiver and his babies are ADORABLE. Bracken is a good daddy, too. In theory, anyway. Truth is, he hasn’t been around his kids much due to the fact that ten baby bunnies is a lot of baby bunnies, and Seth needs some alone time.
Thus began Bunny Campaign 2019 wherein my children BEGGED to have one of Seth’s babies.
Listen, I am a reasonable human being. Responsible above all else. Rational. Logical. Sensible. Those are the words everyone uses to describe me. We already have the world’s greatest dog and two new kittens; no need to get greedy and add a bunny. I mean, seriously, like we need ONE MORE THING to keep alive at our house. One More Thing capable of peeing on stuff. Clearly, we were NOT getting a rabbit.
Unfortunately, there were two problems.
Problem #1: OMGBUNNIESARESOCUTE
Problem #2: Greg said no.
He put his foot down.
Buck stopped there.
Gregory made a Grand Proclamation: There Shalt Be No Resident Bunnies, Now and Forevermore.
Now, technically, to be completely fair, Greg realized a split second after he said it What He’d Done, and the Error of His Ways. He tried to take it back. He tried to shove that NO back in his mouth and swallow it, but it was already out there, you know? Just sitting there egging me on, begging to know what I was going to do about it. Which, gosh darn it, Greg, I didn’t even WANT a bunny, but then you went and made a declaration like your word is law, and now I have to get a rabbit.
What’s a logical human to do? I don’t make the rules. (I do make the rules.) And the rules were clear. We had to get a rabbit.
We went to the farm. We chatted with Seth. We picked out a bunny. And we let you know Greg said no, so you helped us name him.
Meet our newest family member,
Niffler the Raisin Maker of Clan Very Droppy Floppity Loppity
At first, Niffler’s ears were technically 1 floppity loppity and 1 very droppy floppity loppity…
…so we thought we his clan might be Partial Droppy Floppity Loppity, but, since then, both have become very droppy floppity loppity, so we’re confident we’ve named the correct family.
Thus Niffler became part of the family.
But one member of the fam is convinced Niffler is JUST HERS.
Honest to God, there is no convincing Zoey we haven’t just given her a pet.
Whither Niffler goest, Zoey will go.
Where Niffler lodgest, Zoey will lodge.
Niffler’s people shall be Zoey’s people.
And Niffler’s God, Zoey’s God.
And every morning, when I wake up, Zoey greets me with excessive wagging of tail and eager barks until I go get her bunny out of his hutch so they can play.
Don’t get me wrong. ALL of us love Niffler. But there is no question who belongs to whom.
Which is how we accidentally got our dog a pet bunny.
Not the worst thing we’ve ever done. Not by a long shot.
Sending you and yours love, and waving in the dark, as always,
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