Muffin the rabbit (who is so stupid he actually makes Ruby look like Einstein) has finally worked out how to escape his very makeshift run and is spotted by Daughter #3 cavorting joyfully on the lawn (unmown and fabulously meadow-like) at breakfast time. Daughter #1-- his owner-- is beside herself, and instantly enlists us all to round him up.
So, usual frenzy of trying to get organised for school is further complicated by stalking through dripping undergrowth beneath towering foxgloves and damp showers of rosepetals, in hot pursuit. Ruby joins us, making the whole process infinitely more challenging by darting after him whenever he slows down, but just as it looks as if we might be there until lunchtime, the rabbit makes the tactical error of breaking cover and bounding crazily onto the patio, where I have no choice but to seize him.
Feel rather sorry for him as he is returned to his hutch and banged up. As we leave for school (damp and muddied) Ruby is on guard outside his door, looking smug.
11 comments:
What a way to start the day! Love it!
You named your rabbit after a cake? (Or after a donkey?? Nooo, I'm too young to remember that and you're about five years younger than I am!)
Re your post on Ms Walker's blog... I have discovered Richard Armitage in a towel. Beats Hugh Jackman. Be nice to me and I might share *g*
Eva-- just as well it didn't happen on a Monday morning or I would have been v unimpressed. Somehow on a Friday it was quite funny.
Kate-- of course, for we are nothing if not extremely confectionary-centric in our household! (I like to call him Muppet though, which seems more suited to his personality)
And I promise to be nice-- promise, promise, promise... so just show me the hot semi-naked guy, OK?
Emailing it over. (Awful music so just put your own soundtrack to it...)
Still whacked up on meds for allergies...can think of nothing pithy or worthwhile to say...but as I've been lurking for the week, reading your posts, felt obliged to write *something*, so here goes:
Something.
(Terrible, I know and I deserve every punishment for being punny...can I plead for mercy on grounds of hayfever?)
Ahh the joys that only another rabbit owner can truly appreciate...
We bought a dog run in the end. Did the trick. Mind you - takes the entire family to move it two feet when the grass runs low (we count that as quality time) - we still have to add bricks/large stones to any undulation-caused-holes round the edges - and the miniature shetlands when on the same stretch of grass feel its an excellent scratching post for their hairy little behinds so it's now covered in varying shades of shetland-hair from chestnut through to black...
The cats all think we're off our rockers. Oh - and that the Guinea Pig looks DELICIOUS.
Sympathy from me and daughter #2, our resident hayfever sufferer, Brown. Just keep taking the drugs!!
Trish, I'm so glad the insanity isn't entirely localised. However, have to report an update. Since his courageous bid for freedom yesterday I've investigated the terrain and come to the conclusion that as we have a completely enclosed walled garden Muffin should be released from bunny Stalag and allowed to roam amongst the unkempt plants and knee-high grass.
(Cue Watership Down music...)
Ruby the airhead cat is disgusted by this development, and has spent the entire morning patrolling the garden like some pompous prefect (if she could put her paws on her hips she so would) and pouncing on him whenever he pauses to sample a canterbury bell. Killjoy.
What adventures Ruby and Muffin shall have in the wonderful world of the garden. Hark, is this the children's novel I should write...hmmm...
Ah, the glamour of being a presents writer!!!!!!
We need pictures of Ruby and Muffin...
Oh NO Eva. You have to find something more uplifting than this. Unless you wanted to draw out the more sinister aspects for an adult novel-- something along the lines of Animal Farm?
Amanda, I know! Of course, if it happened to one of my heroines, she'd suddenly notice how her clothes had gone all transparent in the wet, but fortunately that doesn't happen with a nice bit of Marks and Spencers acrylic...
Shall get the daughters onto it, Kate!
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