…And breathe.

I’m really sorry that I only managed to complete one blog post last week, but as my incarceration came to an end a new restriction started. Puppy sitting.

Mummy El’s cousin has a little Shih-Tzu who came for not one, but two sleepovers; he came over on Wednesday morning and that was me tied up until Friday afternoon.

It’s not the first time that Louis has come to visit, he comes over to play quite a bit, but it’s the first time he’s come to stay over. I think it’s fair to say that when he comes over to see us life is never boring, and I’m happy to say that when he left on Friday afternoon everyone and everything was still intact, unlike last time.

My partner in crime

The ground floor of our house is a loop; the hall leads to the dining room, which leads to the kitchen, which leads to the conservatory, which covers the back of the house, leading to the lounge which leads back through to the hall, which spells fun for puppies and disaster for puppy-sitters.

See, Louis has a very special way of getting your attention, it’s called “grab and run”. The problem is he knows that grabbing something of his own doesn’t work so he grabs things that he really shouldn’t be getting his paws round and then legs it!

As I may have mentioned before, Mummy El is not quite as limber as you would hope, particularly given her chosen profession, so it’s quite a giggle for everyone except her when Louis does a runner and she has to make chase. This is my long-winded way of getting around to what happened last time.

Mummy El was just getting out of the shower when my Nana shouted up the stairs that Louis had something he shouldn’t, and couldn’t stop him. Mummy El made her way down the stairs as quickly as she could, wearing nothing but a towel, and hatched a plan with Nana that they should split up, go in opposite directions and grab him where they met.

Here’s the rub: Mummy El had been ironing in the conservatory and a few drops of the spray she uses had made its way onto the floor, and not only does it make the iron glide effortlessly over the clothes, it also makes people glide effortlessly across the floor…

Louis’s like me, he’s got a low centre of gravity and four-wheel drive, making him a lean, mean, sprinting machine who can corner like a pro. Mummy El… Well, she has none of those attributes. She was trying to round a bend, through the kitchen door and past the conservatory table but skidded on the slippery spot and ended up flying through the air before ending up on her hip. No long-term damage was done and they eventually caught Louis and prized the offending object from his jaws.

This time around Mummy El managed to stay on her feet, although she did end up chasing him under the dining table several times and separating him from a stone, a tissue an eye-glass cloth, a sweet wrapper, an iPod charger and a couple of other things which have escaped my memory.

I haven’t been able to write my blog, not because I’ve been helping, but it’s been very time-consuming mocking my mummies and aiding and abetting Louis’s antics!

I’ll tell you about slug-gate tomorrow!

Read Full Post »

Downsizing

My mummies have been doing a bit of organising and planning, what with the puppy coming (eventually!), because he’s going to sleep in our room with us, so needs plenty of space and a place to put his bed since I’m not making him a hay one now.

When Geordi slept with us he liked to be on the rug next to my mummies’ bed, and then moved around in the night and slept on the wood when he got too hot. He never got in his bed at night, but often got into theirs in the morning!

Cheeky boy 😉

See, Geordi didn’t have a place of his own; the whole room was his and it was my mummies who had a place of their own, which Geords thought they should be grateful for 😉 They’ve said the puppy can’t be bossy though, so it’s important that he has his place, and it’ll be better for him to have somewhere that’s just his where he can go if he needs some alone time. I know where they’re coming from, I’ve got a place like that too.

My special place

Anyway, they’re moving things around, and Mummy El’s being told that she has to throw some stuff away, so I had a think about what I could do. I don’t have much stuff, and the majority of it is in the living room but I do have a fair sized hutch, and I’m not sure I need all that space.

I went to see Frodo next door, and luckily Mummy El was cleaning him out. He was running around in his ball, which meant he couldn’t attack me, and his slide and other interiors were all out getting a good ol’ scrub, which meant I could hop in and see how it was.

Checking it out

It wasn’t too bad at all. Cosy. Bijou. Not a great deal of head room, but you don’t need head room if you’re sleeping… I could do worse.

Absorbing the view through the skylight

I offered to move into smaller digs, but my mummies said it wasn’t at all necessary. They said I’m still numero uno and I don’t have to change a thing. They bought furniture especially for my hutch to sit on so I’m not budging an inch. Secretly, I’m quite relieved, I do love my hutch and I feel really at home and safe in it, but at least they know I was willing to make the sacrifice.

Read Full Post »

Jealous? Me? Maybe…

Okay, I’m officially jealous. As excited as I am about the puppy, and, yes, it was my idea, I thought that now we’re on the waiting list and there’s no more to be imminently done it all would quieten down a bit and I would be back where I belong, smack dab in the centre of everyone’s attention.

Last night, after I took myself off to bed (well, when I say “took myself off”… Mummy J said ‘the B-word’, my eyes widened, my ears stood up, and then I legged it) I got my obligatory three pieces of dried apple, had some nuggets in my bowl for supper, and laid myself down to chill and have a little doze. I couldn’t rest though because I could hear my mummies whispering; I had to prick up an ear and try to have a closer listen because, generally speaking, when they’re all secretive like that they’re discussing surprises, both nasty and nice, and as it was my Birthday last month I didn’t like my odds. So I tuned in, and what were they talking about? The puppy. Again.

How big should his bed be? Where should it go? The pros and cons of baby gates. Should we just have one or two? Top, bottom or both ends of the staircase? Should we just teach him restraint and that he’s not to use the stairs? Will he be allowed on beds and sofas or not? The list went on and on…

Who was it who suggested a puppy? Who was it who did all the research? Who was it who did all the number crunching to work out the cost of food and insurance? Me, that’s who!

I did all the leg work and then I’m forgotten. He’s even got a name already, he’s not even planned yet, let alone born! And did I get consulted about his name? No.

Now it’s all Tucker this, Tucker that… I’m not sure I even like the name!

They can prepare themselves for some mayhem this weekend, I’ve got the right ‘ump!

Grumpy face

 

Read Full Post »

All cleared up

Right, after the stress of yesterday’s discovery I decided that the best thing to do was to be honest and have it out with my mummies. I was a brave boy and I just asked them outright if it was true, if I was really adopted.

They sat me down and told me what I already suspected. It’s all true.

I asked how it all came about, so they put the kettle on and we had the much needed chat.

It was actually just by chance or more by fate really, that we found each other. My mummies had gone shopping in town, which they don’t do all that often, but they’d parked just out of the centre, which meant a bit of a hike back to the car. On their way they happened to pass by a pet shop and, on a whim, they decided to go in. The parrots had grown a bit and were struggling to fit into the bowl they insisted on using as a bath soMummies El and J wanted to see if the shop had a nice big bowl for the birds.

Now Mummy El is a bit wet when it comes to animals and can’t help but go and make cooing noises in front of every cage in any and all pet shops they visit, so she headed straight past the parrot accessories to the back of the shop where all the fluffy people were. Apparently, our eyes met and it was love at first sight. Well, for her anyway. She said she can’t remember any of the other animals she saw that day, she only had eyes for me.

Now, the next part of the story shook me a bit, so prepare yourselves. I’m not her first bunny. There were bunnies who came before me. And I don’t just mean 1 or 2. Including her sister’s pet bunnies and some accidental babies we’re talking more than a dozen. Add to this that my other mummy, Mummy J, has had 3 other bunnies too, I had quite a bitter blow. I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it. It just came as a bit of a shock. The point is, Mummy El’s last bunny died when she was 11 or 12 so it’d been a long time since she’d had one around, and all of her previous rabbits had lived in the garden. It had never occurred to her or Mummy J as grown-ups to have a bunny, they always thought of them as children’s pets, although Mummy El had known a grown-up with a pet rabbit who lived in the house, and she’d liked the idea.

Anyway, Mummy J finally managed to drag her away from my cage and out of the shop, parrot bowl in hand (I think they paid for it first!) and off they went home.

All the way home they talked about me and neither of them could get me out of their heads. They’d never seen a Netherlands Dwarf like me before and when they got home they got straight on the computer and googled my kind (other search engines are available!). They compared every picture they looked at with me and decided (correctly) that I was cuter than all of them. It was too late for Mummy El, she’d gone past the point of no return and was in love with me.

She started researching the practicalities of having a house-rabbit, toilet training, what sort of health care I’d need, how much I would cost to feed and house… She knew she had to make it work – she needed me.

Anyway, as fate would have it, it was 2 days before Mummy El’s birthday and Mummy J hadn’t got her a present yet, she hadn’t been able to find the perfect thing. She’d seen the look on Mummy El’s face when she saw me for the first time and she saw the look on Mummy El’s face then, looking at hutches and pictures of not-so-devastatingly handsome members of my breed, and knew what she had to do. She asked Mummy El if they should go back to the pet shop the next day and bring me home. Well, Mummy El’s eyes welled up telling me about that part so I can imagine what a state she would have been in at the time. The shop had been shut for about half an hour when Mummy J put forward her proposition, so they couldn’t phone up right then to find out if anybody else had taken me home already, so they had a long wait until the next morning to make sure they made me theirs.

They set an alarm for 8:30am – unheard of for a Saturday – and waited anxiously, phone in hand, for the clock to tick over to 9am so that they could ring the shop. Mummy El couldn’t stand the wait though and decided at 8:50 that someone would be there by that time to get things ready and open up, so she dialled the number.

What luck! Someone answered! Mummy described me and asked if I was still there: I was. She asked if I was still available: I was. She asked if I was ready to move out of the shop into a new home: I was. She asked if she could reserve me: She could. The lady asked Mummy how long I needed to be reserved for and Mummy told her, as long as it took to neck a slice of toast and drive there.

Now, the memory is fuzzy, but when my mummies told me about the next bit, something started to come back. Not as a thought or picture, more as just a feeling. When they got to the shop the lady lifted me out of my cage and put me into Mummy El’s arms, and she held me whilst the lady put some saw dust into a box to transport me home in, and packed my new belongings that Mummy J had bought me into a bag. I remember feeling warm, safe and loved.

Mummy J drove home very carefully, and they told me that they remember listening to Barry White on the way. I would say that there’s no accounting for taste, but they had just chosen me, so I’ll reserve judgement.

They set up my new house, made it all cosy and put my new things in it for me, and Mummy J carefully helped me move in.

The first ever photo of me, being helped into my new hutch by my Mummy J

I’m so glad that it was them that chose me. Apparently I’ve got a real brother who was in the shop with me, but he was mean and bullied me – I’m glad I don’t remember that part. And can you imagine if I’d been chosen by people who weren’t as kind and gentle as my mummies? I could be sat somewhere getting my ears pulled and my eyes poked right now, or I could be sharing outdoor digs with another rabbit, or worse, a guinea pig!

Anyway, I’m glad that I had that talk with them and it’s all out in the open now, but it has to be our little secret; I’m not to tell Frodo. I was right, he was adopted too, and my mummies don’t think he’d take the news as well as me. Geordi knew all along that he was adopted and I think that we’ll make sure that the puppy knows from day 1 too, I don’t want him to stumble upon it one day by accident like I did.

Now that I know the whole story it makes me feel even more special knowing that I was adopted. I’m the central part of the best family in the whole wide world, and my life is exactly the way it was always meant to be!

Read Full Post »

Shocking Discovery

I’ve had a nasty shock. I think… I think I’ve uncovered a family secret. I think… I think I was adopted.

My face says it all

It never really occurred to me before, I can’t remember living anywhere other than here and I don’t remember anyone other than my mummies taking care of me, so I didn’t really give any thought to where I came from. I suppose it makes sense though because Frodo (who’s technically my big brother since he’s about 10 months older than me) calls our parents ‘Mummy’ too, but families come in all shapes and sizes and I didn’t think there was anything stranger about mine than the next one.

Anyway, I was going through some of Mummy El’s papers this morning, looking for something to shred, and I found a form from a pet shop with my name on it, and it said “Age at Adoption: 12 weeks”.

I’m not really sure what to do with this information. I mean, it all makes sense now; the fact that I’m so much smaller than them, I have bigger ears, a furrier bottom, I walk on 4 legs, oh, and I have a tail. I suppose this means that Frodo was adopted too… What about the parrots? I think I may have opened a can of worms here.

I thought Frodo and I were an integral part of the family and that the birds and fish were all of our pets. I mean, hierarchically, that’s certainly how it feels. The birds live in a cage, except for on Sundays (I think that’s mainly due to how messy they are) and the fish never come out of the tank… Wait, I think the reason for that’s been explained to me… Anyway, the point is, I’m a free-range rabbit, only in my hutch to sleep, and Frodo’s allowed to run around in his ball when he can be bothered.

So, where do I go from here? Do I pretend I never saw it? Do I talk to my mummies about it? I wish my big bro, Geordi, was still here – he’d know what to do. Oh my goodness. Geordi. He must have been adopted too!

You know what? The more I think about it, the less I think it matters. Geordi was my bro and my best friend, Frodo and I don’t always see eye to eye, but he’s my brother too and I’d never hurt him, and I know my mummies love me more than anything. I’ve got a warm bed right next to theirs, I’ve got hay and nuggets and lots of yummy treats, I’ve got the run of the house, cuddles on tap and the best view of the fish tank.

Family is family. It doesn’t matter where you come from, all that matters is where you end up, and I think I’ve landed squarely on my big fluffy feet.

Read Full Post »

I hate to say I told you so, but…

I’ll just say this: when I’m right, I’m right.

Last year my mummies decided, on a bit of a whim in my opinion, to buy a car. Not just any car. No. They had to buy a fancy pants German sports car. I can understand Mummy J wanting a bit of German machinery, to be fair, she’s proud – and quite rightly so – of her home nation’s engineering skills, but Mummy El… Well, I think it was a bit of an ego massage since she sold her motorbikes. She can’t even drive!

Anyway, now, a year later they’ve decided that it’s impractical, particularly since they’re letting me get a puppy, and it’s a waste of money paying for tax and insurance since they hardly ever use it.

So now they’re trying to sell it, without much success. One of their friends nearly bought it, but couldn’t come up with the cash, then they got nothing but spam and scams from Auto Trader, no- one’s biting on Gum Tree and so, in desperation, they’ve stuck it on FleaBay.

I know I wasn’t even a year old at the time, and it wasn’t my money, but I did try to tell them that I thought it was a bad move. But did they listen to me? Did they heck. They never do, not since that time I suggested that we change the living room carpet. Maybe I went about it the wrong way by digging it up before I’d checked with them that we were all on board, but there’s no need to poo-poo all of my ideas and opinions just because of that one incident.

My “I told you so” face

Anyway, I hope they sell it soon, because they said that some of the proceeds are going into my puppy fund!

I don’t suppose any of you are in the market for an Audi TT…?

Read Full Post »

A big commitment. Part 3 – Testing the waters.

A long story short, I got chatting with the guy I was telling you about yesterday, Alfie, and it turns out that he lives with a couple of girl dogs, who have babies! I think his human (which I’ve worked out is the equivalent of my mummies) is what you call a ‘breeder’, so we put the grown-ups in touch to talk about the possibility of us having a puppy.

It was all looking good, my mummies were going to put a deposit down and start the very long wait when they got an email from Alfie’s human/Mum, Rosemary, to say that there was a 7 month old Entlebucher who wasn’t getting on very well with his family and needed a new place to live – and he was only 20 miles away from us. Well, we all talked about it at length, and then decided that proximity, timing and the fact that he shared his birthday with Mummy El were all signs that we should have him come and live with us.

Arrangements were made for my mummies to go and see him at his house; his name was Duke, and the meeting went well. They came home and told me all about him and we agreed that he should come and meet me too, and if we all got along he could stay. It was all very exciting!

When the next day came I couldn’t wait to meet him. He came up to our bedroom; I stayed in my hutch and Duke stayed on his lead for safety, and we came almost nose to nose! The good, but somewhat insulting news was that he was totally disinterested in me. He came and had a look a few times, but he was too excited about everything else to be fussed with me. If only the same could be said for next door’s Spaniel… It makes me shudder! Anyway, I digress; from my perspective the meeting went well. Apparently, things didn’t go so smoothly downstairs. I wasn’t told the ins and outs, but we were all very sad to say that things didn’t work out with Duke and he went home after a few hours.

I still wanted an Entlebucher though; I liked Duke. I mean he was a bit porky (I’m sure he won’t mind me saying that) and somewhat excitable, but I found that charming, and my mummies agreed, so I told Mummy J to whip her cheque book out.

Since it was my idea to get the puppy I said I’d chip in financially, but I’m hoping they’re not holding me to that. I’m still £246.21 in debt, I’ve only managed to reduce it from £246.23 because Mummy found a 2p piece when dragging me out from somewhere I shouldn’t have been. I spun her a line that I’d gone in there specifically to retrieve the money, which she swallowed hook, line and sinker, so I got away with that one. Good old Geords, that was an invaluable trick he taught me!

Just one more of my best bud, Geordi, with my mummies

No thanks to me, the deposit is paid and we’re on the list. I’ve been internet window shopping for bowls, beds, harnesses and toys but I think I’m a bit premature with that. I’ve asked my mummies if I can have my puppy for Christmas but they’ve told me they think it’ll be more like next spring. I’m not sure I can wait that long, I feel like I might burst!

Check out the website my Mummy J made for the Entlebucher Mountain Dog Club of Great Britain, and you can see some pictures of the kind of puppy I’ll be getting! I know we’re biased, but Mummy El and I are very proud of her work.

This post was dedicated to Geordi Boy, the best friend a bunny could have.

Read Full Post »

A big commitment. Part 2.

So, it was time to talk to my mummies about a puppy…

It was a very delicate and difficult situation for us all, Geordi was so very special, but it turns out that they were feeling the same way as me, that he had left a huge void in our lives. I showed them my findings and that made them feel even better about a new puppy. Entlebuchers are the exact opposite of Geordi in every way: he was small and white, they’re a lot bigger and black; Geordi was a go to the beach, sunbathe and hit on hot chicks kind of a guy, whereas Entlebuchers are more likely to want to learn to surf and go for a swim.

Geordi and Mummy El at the beach

When Geords went for a walk in the woods he inevitably ended up being carried half way because he liked the scenery but got tired, but an Entlebucher would probably even be able to keep up with my mummies if they went there on their bikes!

Geordi sleeping off the rigours of a hard day

In essence, Geordi was his own man; he had his way of doing things, and he knew that he was their baby, not their dog. We all decided that an Entlebucher would definitely be more of a ‘dog’ dog.

This is where Mummy J being bilingual comes in handy; there is an abundance of info about Entlebuchers written in German, so she could fill in the gaps in mine and Mummy El’s research. It didn’t take us all long to decide that this was the dog for us, but just to be doubly sure that I’d be okay Mummy J joined a forum and found a good handful of German speaking people who had Entlebuchers and rabbits in the same household, and they all said it was fine. I’ve got an online Entlebucher buddy now called Alfie who lives up north, and he’s friends with his neighbour’s chickens so I think I’ll be all right.

To be honest, I’d feel a bit better about life if I had a big strong boy to look out for me again. Geordi may have looked like a powder puff on legs but he wouldn’t have let that Spaniel from next door chase me like he did… I don’t even want to think about it. This puppy can’t come fast enough!

My mummies have explained that I’m still going to be their number 1 priority – and rightly so – and we’ve got to introduce the puppy to me slowly, but I think he’ll be fine. I’m working on my growl, and I’m not backwards at coming forwards when I don’t like something, so I’ll be quick to put him in his place. I’m the man of the house now, and I’m not giving that up for anybody.

Come back tomorrow to read about my first meeting with an Entlebucher.

This post was dedicated to Geordi Boy, the best friend a bunny could have.

Read Full Post »

A big commitment. Part 1.

Our weird and wonderful family is getting bigger! We’re adding a bit of Swiss into the mix. This isn’t really news to me, I’ve known for a while and, in fact, it was my (brilliant) idea, but I’m getting more and more excited about it, so wanted to share the news with you, my new friends.

The story starts on a sad note. You see, I haven’t always been the man of the house; when I arrived I had a big bro. I know technically Frodo is my big bro, but I mean I had a BIG bro – well, compared to me anyway. His name was Geordi and he was a Bichon Frise. I was a bit unsure of him at first, he was so brave and confident, and I was just a baby, but he soon convinced me that he just wanted to be a good role model, show me how to wrap the grown-ups around our paws, and how to give them the signals for “I’m hungry”, “I’m bored” and “I don’t care if it’s Sunday, get up!”. He was my mentor, my playmate and my best friend, but all too soon I lost him to the big kennel in the sky.

Me and Geords

Now, nobody could ever replace my Geordi, he was one of a kind, but I have been getting a bit bored and lonely, and I feel like I would be a good big bro. I think Geordi would be proud to watch me pass on all of the secrets of mayhem to a new puppy, the same way he passed them onto me.

Now, as the Spaniel next door proved to me in an unfortunate chance meeting, getting the right dog to live harmoniously with a rabbit is a tricky process. I took to the internet and started doing my research, trying to cross reference my needs with those of my mummies. See, they’re very outdoorsy, active people (when Mummy El can walk!) and love doing things that I just can’t join in with. I grant you, Geords wasn’t the most sporty or athletic little dog but he was always chuffed to go with them to the beach and for a walk in the woods, and I got the feeling they were missing that. I quickly dismissed some of the smaller, toy breeds as they didn’t seem a good fit for my parents, and I certainly didn’t want to risk a terrier! My self-preservation alarm went off straight away!

Anyway, one day, by pure chance I came across a really handsome dog called an Entlebucher. It was the smallest member of the Swiss Mountain Dog family, but I’d never heard of them before so had to do a bit of reading (not that there was much information out there) and imagine my joy and surprise when I read that they have little or no hunting instinct! Plus, they’re like the Olympians of the dog world, which I knew would please my mummies, so I decided to broach the subject.

Come back tomorrow to find out how.

This post was dedicated to Geordi Boy, the best friend a bunny could have.

Read Full Post »