It's Just Not Natural!

Nubbin has become quite comfortable with us. I don't think I've ever seen a rabbit quite so relaxed as this:

I don't think it's natural!



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Noot Noots! Or Else!

When he's awake, our little rabbit likes to be pet. He REALLY likes to be pet. Like, all the time. ALL THE TIME! If he's out and running around, he'll stop over and give you a little noot-noot with his nose, just a 'Hey, don't forget about me. I need to be pet.'

If you ignore the noot-noot, he will race in circles around your feet.

If you ignore the racing in circles, he will give you another noot-noot, then will scratch at you with his front feet. "Hey! Hey you! Pet me!"

And then of course come the nibbles. Those are a bit more serious.

Nibbles sounds like such a cute word, doesn't it? Well, when those nibbles are administered with large, rabbity incisors it's not so cute. I mean, he hasn't broken any skin, but still. Not fun.

So, needless to say, I've been quickly trained to respond promptly to noot-noots. Or else!


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Ruled By Rabbits and Cats and Other Assorted Critters

So, sweet little Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins passed on to the great clover field in the sky and Sweet Pea thought we had an empty spot in the house that required filling. After several months of searching we decided to rescue a bunny from the SPCA. The advantage is that he's already neutered so we have much calmer bunny than the last time. He's really the sweetest little rabbit we could hope for.

That said, he is still a rabbit which means he's a little bit bossy. I think he has me trained now. But aside from the constant nose poking and occasional nibble to get our attention when he's not being pet enough, he's wonderful.The cat does not agree.

The cat and the rabbit haven't 'officially' met and I think we'll keep it that way. The cat seems happy downstairs. The rabbit seems happy upstairs. And ne'er the twain shall meet. Or something like that.

On the few occasions when they spied each other across the room, there was a lot of very loud foot thumping from the rabbit and some racing away down the stairs from the cat. With some work they might become friends, but who needs more work!

So, the rabbit rules the upstairs, the cat rules the downstairs, and I'm constantly being ordered around by nose-bumps, nibble, meows and head rubs no matter where I go.

So, without further delay, this is our upstairs rabbit - Nubbin:

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Reginal Johnson

 Reginald Johnson has become a real member of the family. He routinely naps with the cat:

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Toast

So, as you may know from previous posts, we had 3 gerbils. A little over a year ago we got Dusty, Toast and Chippy. Dusty was always frail - thin and smaller than the other two, but she was very energetic and healthy, or so it seemed. She died after about 8 months or so. But Chippy and Toast carried on in their gerbilly way.

And the other day, little Toast died. She looked ill for the last few weeks so we knew she might not be long for this world, but it's sad to see her go. For a gerbil, she was a very funny little critter. she is the only gerbil we ever had who would sprawl out on her back, tummy up to the air, snoozing without a care in the world - as if she was taunting any would-be-predators. (the others always curled up in a ball to sleep). She was lazy, chubby and loved to eat. She loved to snuggle up with Chippy and really didn't seem to mind being held by us humans - she would sit contentedly for a little while while we scratched behind her ears. We gave her a nice burial in a heart shaped box in the backyard near Dusty. She will be missed.

And now little Chippy is all alone. We'll have to heap extra attention on her, which I'm sure she would prefer to do without. Hopefully she'll stay with us for a good long time.

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Bundercorn or Uni-Bun?

And while we're on the topic of Bunderfluff, I will bore you with one more rabbit-related post.

When we first got Bunderfluff from the State Fair we suspected he had had a hair cut - a little trimming of the head fur to make him show-worthy. And yes, our suspicions have been confirmed. Now that his hair has grown out we discovered that he has quite a spectacular and entertaining fuzz-horn:

Normally it doesn't stick straight up like this but I think it would be neglectful to not style it and take photos. Now we just need to get out the hair fur gel.

And we still haven't decided if he's a uni-bun, or a Bundercorn.

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The Bun

  And without further ado,

    This
         Is
        
          BunderFluff Nibblenubbins!

 

He's a funny, sweet, little bunny!

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Fido! Fluffy!

OK, so the other day I told you about Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins. And to continue that rambling train of thought . . .

One of the most awesome parts about having a pet with a ridiculously long and hilarious name like Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins is bringing him to the vet. Not because I like the vet, or the money it costs to visit the vet, but for an entirely different, if somewhat selfish reason. It may actually be worth bringing him in for regular checkups just I can sit in the waiting room and hear them call out 'Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins?'

Much better than Fido or Fluffy!

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Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins

We are now the  proud owners of a rabbit. Yes, a rabbit. A Jersey Wooly to be exact. His coloring is agouti, which is just a fancy way of saying 'regular yard rabbit color'. But really, agouti sounds so much nicer, doesn't it? It makes me want to  put my pinky in the air, like this:

And really, saying that he's agouti, or yard rabbit color, isn't quite accurate either. Because, well, I've never seen a yard bunny that's quite this fluffy and cute. He's a little ball of angora fuzz. Which sounds nice, but it tends to turn from fuzz into hard little nubbins of tangled, matted, congealed fur around the back-end and armpits. (You didn't know rabbits had armpits, did you?)

And, (stream of consciousness here) when I say he's a little ball of angora fuzz that makes him sound like a sweetie, doesn't it? Well, let's just say that he's a teenage boy bunny. That should give you a clue to his personality (and get me somewhat prepared for my own male ducklings imminent rise to teenage-ness). And by stating that he's a teenage boy bunny I mean he has aggressive tendencies. And can be quite mischievous. And doesn't like to be corrected. And gets very territorial. And is very very possessive of his food. And does sometimes like to be scratched behind the ears. And has strong back legs and sharp claws.

But there is a cure for all the wickedness. We could get him neutered. That's supposed to cut down on all those aggressive, boy-bunny things that he so loves to do right now. So why haven't we done that? Because holy bunny-crap - it's expensive! I could get 25 rabbits for the cost of getting this one neutered. For that matter, I could get one girl bunny and make a whole army of bunnies and save ourselves hundreds of dollars. Wait, no, that's not the point. In any case, I can't justify the cost. I need to do some comparison shopping - get a second opinion. Or just deal with it. Sometimes he's nice.

But, from what I've read, once he gets past his teenage phase, he should calm down a little bit. I hope so - I don't like being afraid of a 2.5 lb ball of fluff that's confined to a cage. It's like a scene from Monty Python - that little bunny has BIG SHARP POINTY teeth! But really, he's not that bad. The only time I really need to be careful is when I fill his bowl with bunny-crunchies. He has a tendency to attack - thinking I'm stealing his food no doubt. (Mine! My food! Rawr!)

Oh, and most important of all (and if you've made it this far I commend you on your ability to put up with rambling) is his name. What did we name this little ball of wonder-fluff?

Bunderfluff Nibblenubbins!

The perfect name if I do say so myself.


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Bubbles - So Sweet and Effervescent

  Do you remember Bubbles? Come now, you must remember, Bubbles the Guinea Pig? I've posted about her before. She was a sweet little thing. Here's some sketches that remind me of her:

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Eeek! A Mouse!

So you know we have three gerbils now, right? I'm sure you're sick of hearing about them already. but there's more to be said...

Like how they all have their own unique personalities. Dusty is the quick, tiny, adventurer - always on the move, sniffing and wiggling and looking to escape. Toast is the timid, reserved one - friendly but not willing to venture too far. And finally, Chippy - the sturdy girl who seems to rule the cage, keeping watch and making sure everyone else is safe. She's also the most prone to nibbling and is the biggest. I think she eats most of what I put in the cage. While leads me to another thing...

Like how I can never tell if they have any food in their cage. As soon as I give them some, there's a flurry of activity and they swarm over the chow. Is it because they are starving? Or just trying to keep the cage neat? Do they eat it all as soon as I put it in there? Or are they storing it away under their flower pot and in their chips? I suspect they are storing some away since they don't seem to be losing weight. I suppose I could lift up the pot and rustle through the chips to see, but that leads to another thing...

Like how every time I reach into their cage to do anything, they swarm all over me as if to chew my fingers to death for daring to mess up their neatly arranged chips. They don't bite. Nothing more than an occasional nibble, but I still get nervous. It's not like I'm one of those people who stand on a chair and yell 'Eek!' when I see a mouse. But still, the thought of those huge rodent teeth always sets me on edge. I mean, what if they were to escape? ...

Like how on their first day home when Dusty escaped. We found her under the bookcase. Thank heavens I didn't squish her when I moved it. It took quite a while to get her rounded up and back in the cage, but between Hubby and Snickers it was accomplished. And then, 5 minutes later, she was out again! So we put her back yet again and watched her squeeze her furry little butt out between the bars. (She's very small, even for a gerbil). Oh! the nerve! So, I went to the pet store and got a glass aquarium with a cover. She's been in there since - and hasn't escaped yet. But they now have a ramp of chips built up in one corner. I think they are planning an escape.

It's a good thing the cat is standing guard to keep them in line.

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A Box Brimming With Gerbils

So we visited the pet store a few weeks back and were pleasantly surprised to find that they had a new litter of 6 gerbils. We'd been in the market for gerbils for a little while but were having trouble finding a pet store that carried them. It seems those little miniature hamsters (oh my god those things are cute!) are all the rage. But we had our heart set on gerbils, in part due to their cleanliness and in part due to our awesome experience with sweet little Sandy.

So, we came home with a box brimming with gerbils! No, we didn't get all 6, although the ducklings would have liked that. But we did come home with 3 of them. Little sisters named Dusty, Chippy and Toast.

Dusty is a soft dusty gray, Chippy is a brindled brown and Toast is a warm butterscotch color with a white head dot and gray suspenders. They are all so cute!

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Oreo Piggy

I'm a little behind on my blogging so I'll try to catch you up in my next several posts . . .

It's been a rough year for pets at our house. To be fair, all the pets that have passed on have had fairly long, happy lives, but it seems like they are dropping like flies all of the sudden. I posted not too long ago about sweet little Sandy. Then there were some fish who ended up belly-up. And then this past weekend, sweet little Oreo died. She wasn't very old for a guinea pig, not quite 5, but she had a rough year. Her cage-mate died a year ago. At that time, Oreo lost most of her fur, developed what we affectionately called a 'pig-bump' (a yucky bump on her side) and seemed a little depressed. Well, a few months ago she seemed to bounce back. She grew all her fur back, lost her pig bump and seemed fairly content. But then suddenly a couple of weeks ago she stopped eating hay. I checked her teeth to make sure that wasn't the issue (not that I could have done anything if it was), but they looked fine. And she continued to eat plenty of veggies. But something was going on and now she's in piggy heaven with Eleanor and Bubbles, frolicking in a huge field of clover I'm sure. We'll miss her. Guinea pigs are the sweetest little critters. Not the cleanest, but certainly the sweetest. We'll miss you Oreo!

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For a Cat She's Alright

Here's the Dutchess. Doesn't she look sweet? Don't let that fool you. She's still a cat. She has claws. And teeth.

But to give her a little credit, she rarely uses those teeth and claws. For a cat she's pretty cool. 

Do you think she's actually looking out onto the deck at the birds and chipmunks? Or do you think she's just admiring her own reflection in the glass? I think the latter. She is a cat afterall.


Meow!

RIP Sandy

  Remember sweet little Sandy? Well, he's passed onto the great gerbil home in the sky. We know he's up there, frolicking in fields and rolling in sand with his brother Snow-belly. We were sorry to see him go but he had a long life for a gerbil - about 4 years. You can't ask for more than that. He was pretty cheerful right up until the end although I could tell he was having trouble getting comfortable, what with the sleeping in strange places, strange positions and all the tipping over. We buried him out back with the other assorted rodents and fish. Then Doodlebug and I said some nice words over his grave. He'll live forever in our hearts.

Doodlebug arranged some willow sticks (some of Sandy's favorites to chew on) into RIP over his grave:
 

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Hansel! You Evil Little Kitty!

I have two seemingly unrelated subjects to discuss today. But at the end of this post you will see that although the topics seem unrelated, they will tie together nicely at the end. Just wait.

We have a freezer in the basement. We mostly use it to hold ice cream - lots and lots of ice cream. But it also holds the occasional loaf of bread, chunk of hamburger, bag of french fries, tub of homemade spaghetti sauce or unidentifiable frozen lump. It's one of those chest freezers so sometimes getting things out of the bottom can be a challenge, but for the most part we are very happy with it.

On to topic #2.

Sometimes I wonder exactly what the cat thinks of me. I grew up with dogs and with dogs you know where you stand. But with cats it's different. You can be petting her one minute as she rolls around and purrs and looks all happy and then the next minute she's shredding your hand like an industrial food processor going after a chunk of mozzarella cheese. She never comes when you call and when she even deigns to acknowledge that you spoke to her at all, it's to give you a disdainful look - 'yeah dumb-ass. I heard you'' and then she wanders away. She rarely seeks out affection, but will occasionally allow us to pet her if we do it right.

I get some satisfaction when little miss graceful races up the basement stairs for some catty purpose and trips over one of her many feet. She always tries to look like she either meant to do it, or pretends it never happened at all. But I know that under all that fur she is blushing like a mad-woman. And I will snicker and ask if she's OK in a sweet voice. She just prances on by.

Now this is where the two subjects come together.

I was in the basement the other day and I opened the freezer. Of course what I wanted was at the very bottom so I was digging down through the various boxes of ice cream with my head in the freezer and my rump in the air when she jumped up next to me to investigate. I glanced over and she was sniffing at the various boxes and bags and chunks of ice. So I went back to work digging through the contents.

Then, the next thing I know she's leapt to the top of the freezer door and with every muscle in her little kitty body she closed that freezer door right on me! And not only that, she then leapt onto my protruding rump and tried to shove me into the freezer! I actually felt her paws (and claws) as she launched herself off my lower back, shoving with all her evil kittiness.

All of a sudden I knew how she felt about me. I knew exactly how she felt about me. I am the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel. I am the crone who confines her in the house, not letting her outside to eat play with the birds and chipmunks. I am the prison guard who controls the food like a greedy hag - only doling out the gravy-soaked kitty chow when I feel like it.

And I had to be disposed of. Mwah ha ha ha.

Of course I shrieked and pulled myself out of the bowels of the freezer, thankful that my butt was big enough to anchor me to the ground outside the freezer, otherwise, where would I be then I ask you? Exactly, just like the witch, but frozen instead of cooked. "Hansel!" I shrieked. "I mean, Dutchess! You evil little kitty!"

But of course, she pretended that nothing had happened and that I imagined the whole thing. She sat and calmly cleaned her ears.

Let me tell you, I now watch my back very closely when I'm baking cookies.

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Prince Fuzzy Muffins

So, we have this sweet little gerbil. He spends his days running on his wheel, chewing on his

bars, rearranging his chips and, of course, snoozing. Sometimes he looks so comfortable, all curled up into a tight little ball, nestled into a fluffy pile of chips and fuzz, only barely visible.

And other times, it's like he's forgotten how to make a nest. He lays on his side on top of his chips and just looks generally pathetic. We all just want to bunch the chips up over his little shoulders and feet, but then of course he wakes up and wonders why we're messing with his stuff.

As I write this, he is curled up on top of his chips, looking downright uncomfortable. His eyes are closed but his little tail is sticking straight up and he keeps shifting as if there's a pea under his many layers of chips. I suspect he may be a prince in disguise.

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The Mighty Hand of a Plastic Disc-Shaped God

So, a couple of months ago (I know! I am so behind on these blog posts!) the hubby was puttering around the house and he heard the sounds of a cat fight in the backyard. It happens on occasion. There is a big, fat, friendly, tabby cat that owns the entire neighborhood that visits our backyard often. And since putting up a bird feeder, we also often have other cats wandering through to check out the free meals. Once in a while the cats get tangled up with each other. (While our cat watches longingly from the window).

So anyway, there was a cat fight. It stopped, but started up again a short time later so the hubby went out to see what the ruckus was about. As expected, there was a tangle of grey, white and black fur, claws flying, fur flying, terrifying cat yowling echoing across the yard. They were at the far end of the yard and he certainly didn't want to go out there and intervene but he did see a Frisbee on the deck. He picked it up, aimed and tossed it out there.

It was like something from a sci-fi movie, or a Frisbee competition. The Frisbee flew out, arced around, following the line of the fence and landed smack-dab between the two cats! It couldn't have been a more perfect throw! (My hubby is soooo athletic lucky sometimes!)

The cats, startled, started to run off, both in approximately the same direction. And, surprisingly enough, the Frisbee rolled on its side between them, following the same path. They were completely freaked out. Not only did this strange blue thing drop out of the sky between them like the hand of a plastic, disc-shaped god, but it was following them! They scattered like the wind, disappearing into the black-raspberry bushes on the back hill like smoke in a stiff breeze. Then the Frisbee, quest completed, dropped onto it's side, exhausted.

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Our TV Is Portal To Another World

  A few weeks ago our TV died. Were sorry to see it go, but it had lived a long and fruitful life. We moved it out of the living room and it stayed in the hallway for a few days until it was laid to rest. And that TV, that had shared so much magic with us over the years, shared a final bit of magic before leaving.

You see, it was in the hallway and there was a little space behind it. Just enough space for a small cat to squeeze through. She squeezed through that space many time each day. She would squeeze through, coming out on the other side. Then she'd circle around and squeeze through again. She did this over and over.

I think she may have been expecting to come out in Narnia. And for all I know, maybe sometimes she did. There are often times when I wander around looking for the cat and she is nowhere to be found. She could very well have travelled through a portal to another world. In fact, I'm sure that's what happened. Why else would she continue to circle the TV if not for the purpose of just waiting for the exact moment when the portal was active.

Thank you TV for giving the cat something to do.

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Saved By Santa

Twas the night before Christmas
And as I reached for the cat,
Lightning shot from my fingers
It knocked off my hat.

Static electricity -
Zinging from my fingers.
Prickling and sparking
Like a hive full of stingers.

And since she's a cat
wouldn't you expect,
That she would claw and hiss
until my arm was a wreck?

But no - with a glance over her shoulder,
With barely a twitch,
She regarded me as little more
Than a worm in a ditch

I breathed a sigh of relief
At the lack of spitting and claws.
I think she knows he is watching -
Good Ol' Santa Claus

 Quack!