Bunnies and Pess-ants

Well, the bunny lives on. He is drinking pretty well, and today I discovered that he will eat clover if I put it in there for him. I’m wondering if this means he may be able to make his own fuzzy way in the world, and live a hoppy life. :) hehheh. He still seems sort of little and clumsy, though. I’m afraid of accidently doing something wrong and killing him by not feeding him enough or feeding him too much or giving him a heart attack by doggedly pursuing him around his cage. That little critter.

Yesterday he looked so cute all wrapped up his little washcloth, so after I fed him I decided to take him outside in the sunlight and snap a picture. As I wrestled with my camera, brow furrowed, mind distracted, hand loosened, his little wiggling nose caught the scent of sweet, sweet freedom and El Bun-yo took a wide, flailing leap out of my hand into the wild blue yonder. Of course my heart almost stopped, because Herself, Killer of All Things Bunny was snooting around in the grass right beside me…I was in horror that I was going to witness the final episode of the Great Bunny Massacre, and watch my bunny child be torn limb from limb…but thankfully the Snooch is as nearsighted as they come and was in the midst of peering interestedly, albeit blindly at the intriguing rustling, hopping noises that were coming from her right, foreleg raised in hunting stance, when suddenly she was totally disconcerted and disoriented by her owner screaming her name and lunging frantically at her. Makes one’s fur turn a tinge grey. Makes one’s bladder a mite trembly. She was hustled inside before she knew what was happening, and the bunny hunt was on. Poor bunny. I had to recruit Tim to help me, because Bunn Babe is a wriggly little bugger.

I tell you what, though - between Israel waking up the past week at 5 AM ready to face the day, and requiring 1/2 hour of nursing or so to go back to sleep, and then padding groggily out to the kitchen to clutch the skittish bunny and point a syringe of warmed bunny milk in his direction...I am not waking up so chipper these days. Anybody want to bunny-sit?
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Tonight we went out and bought Gabe a sandbox. Or, rather a “sand-pool” – they were out of turtle sandboxes at Walmart. I tell you what – the concept of a “pess-ant” (present) is a mighty motivating factor in Gabe’s little universe. Somewhere along the line he picked up the meaning of “present” and talks routinely about the “pess-ant” that perhaps I may have for him, or that Grandma might have, or how I might bring him one from the store. The concept of “pess-ant” settles his clothes quickly onto his otherwise squirming self, slips his shoes on without a hitch, whisks him in and out of the game room at CiCi’s Pizza (we needed a fun family night), off the riding lawnmowers at Lowes, and away from the game area at Walmart. I’m gitt-ning a pessant. Happy sigh.