POOR BUNNIES

The poor bunnies. I don't know whether I've mentioned the bunnies Dave and Papa Lazarou before, but I have two very cheeky house bunnies, and those are their names. They're fairly well housetrained, in the sense that they only poo where they're supposed to, but like to chew on things, so I can't really call them FULLY housetrained.

So the weather is starting to warm up, and on sunny days, I think, oh, the bunnies would LOVE to go outside today! and I put them out in the garden in this rabbit run that we made for them out of wood and chicken wire. I put them out, and they sit there looking traumatised, like, "What did we do? We promise to be good bunnies from now on, really!"

It's like one of those godawful trips that your parents plan for you when you're kids, and they insist that it's going to be great fun and you'll have SUCH a good time, but the trip goes on with Mom talking in her Very Bright and Enthusiastically Encouraging voice all afternoon until sometime around dinner time she breaks and starts yelling at everyone about how they could at least TRY for GOD'S SAKE. Only in this case, I'm Mom and the rabbit run is the world's crappiest Winnebago sitting in the Florida that is my yard which doesn't even have a BEACH let alone a FUN FAIR.