My Last Post and Testament

I leave you with this. 

A story.

A story of love and betrayal.

One fine day, a family was driving down the highway and saw a sign for free bunnies.

The family quite happily took two same sex bunnies home to their acreage and snuggled them into the unused shed and made them a fine, fine yard to play in.

Suddenly one cold, blistery winter day, two hysterical little girls came running into the house screaming "BABIES! The bunnies had babies!"

We went out to see a wee nest with several frozen solid babies. Seriously. I tapped one on the counter of the shed and it almost shattered. 

Yuck.

Okay, so now this fine family knows that these two bunnies are not same sex bunnies. They are, indeed, brother and sister. 

Can I get a collective "Gross" from the audience, please?

This happened again later in the winter.

And again in the spring. We managed to save this spring litter and found homes for these bunnies. And our incestual bunnies found themselves separated.

This happy acreage family found it was time to move back to the city. So, with Spot and another I don't remember the name of (the sister/mother) we moved into the city and made them a fine hutch to live in. Outside.

Suddenly again, Spot found his way into the little missy's side of the hutch and more babies were again on the way.

Now, everyone, can I get a collective "F*ck"!

We again had another litter of bunnies.

Cute little buggers.

One was clearly not thriving and his brothers and sisters were forcing him out of feedings. His mother was not helping matters as she left him out also.

I know this is the way of it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. 

We tried to feed him with an eyedropper to give him something in his wee belly. This little guy (We named him Lucky) could barely walk, and finally a few days later died. Since it was winter again, Lucky now found his way into my freezer in a little tupperware container so that we could bury him properly once the ground thawed. 

Yes, there was one time I looked at the container and couldn't remember for the life of me what was in it. Until I opened it.

Now I'm looking for a collective "WTH" from the group!!

We still had the mom and dad, and now decided to keep one from this litter. He was a lionhead rabbit. We named him "Freak". 

(Yes, I do realize that this is a photo stolen from the intenet and that it is in fact a bunny named Brody. But you get the general idea.)

This happy city-gone-acreage-gone-city family discovered that they didn't want these rabbits anymore. Their hutch was attracting mice, the hay was making a mess and they were just sadly neglected.

One day, leaving for work, I discovered Freak, who was still bunking with Mom, quite happily humping her.

So, late for work, and duly grossed out, I grabbed up Freak and put him in with Spot, his Dad. Suddenly Spot was humping Freak.

Now, you guessed it, it's time for a collective "No 'freak'in way!!!"

I'm standing there, seriously not knowing what the heck to do, watching these boys go at it. I'm late for work to boot.

So I went and grabbed the travel cage and dumped poor Freak into that for the day.

Then when I got home from work, we decided it was time. Time to get rid of these rabbits. But who on earth would take these full grown horny rabbits, I asked myself?

Why, the Ford dealership on St. Albert Trail. They seriously had been in the news for their rabbit accomodations. They had this beautiful igloo house for them and they fed them and people who came around loved them. And, by God, that was the place for my rabbits.

Late that night we gathered our children and our rabbits and their child. I had one on my lap and one at my feet. Asia had the other rabbit. We drove onto the lot. We noticed a man still in the office, talking on the phone, watching us.

We pulled up alongside the rabbit igloo thing. Very quickly I opened my door and threw the rabbit I had in my hands, lifted my right foot, and used my left foot to quickly sweep this other unsuspecting rabbit out the door, yelled at Asia to dump hers and we would be off.

Suddenly I looked down to see poor Freak getting accosted by Spot again.

"STOP!!"

I jumped out really quick, grabbed onto Spot, who had his poor victim dangling off his thingy, and shook him until Freak fell off and landed, safely, on the ground. 

Then we drove away really, really fast. Like the Ikea commercial.

And waited frantically for a whole week, for the police to come to my door.

And thus ends our story. 

And, for now, my blog.