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Posts Tagged ‘Stubbington Ark’

Remember I told you yesterday that my mummies have been trying to find me a girlfriend? Well, I was keeping a little secret! She was already here! I wanted to keep her to myself for a bit before I introduced her to the world though. Jillian Michaels isn’t often wrong and that hot, muscled mumma was right again: state your intentions to the world, open your heart, and take action, and whatever you want can be yours. And she is – she’s mine, all mine!

Jillian was right about something else too; if it’s really worth having it won’t come easy, but you have to keep going and surmount any and all obstacles. Luckily, I’m a natural athlete and particularly talented hurdler, so I laugh in the face of obstacles. I couldn’t have asked for a better result, she’s a real beauty, and was worth the search.

At first my mummies thought that maybe I would like a lady my own age since we should have some shared experiences, a similar outlook on life and plenty in common, but they couldn’t find one. Like I said, I didn’t mind if she was big or small feet, big or small ears, whether they stood up or were lopped, whether she haf long or short hair or what colour she is, as long as she was pretty (aren’t they all?) and petite so our love didn’t end in tragedy and broken ribs.

The problem they were having was finding a lady small enough for me. They went to our local shelter at the weekend because we all thought it would be nice to give a grown up bunny who needed one a nice home, but Mummy El said that they weren’t just big, they were huuuuuuuge! Then they looked online at other bunny rescues in our area, and they only had big girls too. I suppose it’s good that Netherlands Dwarfs like me, and Mini Lops seem to find good and loving forever homes, but I feel sad for all the other kinds of bunnies.

When their search came to a dead-end they asked me how I felt about younger women, and I told them that, of course, I was well up for that! Baby bunnies direct from a breeder it was!

They decided internet dating was the way to go and found me a sexy lady online who wasn’t too far away from here, so they called her temporary mum right away. Devastated. Someone else had got in there already, and my first potential girlfriend was being picked up by someone else that afternoon. She was gorgeous too – pale grey and very fluffy. C’est la vie, she’s missed out.

They found me a couple more cuties but they were a tad young for me at the time. They were maturing fast though, and could have come to live with us in 2 weeks – 2 weeks is a long time in bunny years, so I wouldn’t have felt like too much of a hay-cradle snatcher. The thing is, they were about an hour away by car, which the mummies said was too far. I say that nowhere is too far to go in the quest for true love. I would go to the ends of the Earth for my lady love, so I think the least they could’ve done was go to Marchwood! This from the people who went to York for the smelly puppy!

Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you about how I met my girl, and if you’re lucky I might even show you a picture!

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That’s it. My hopes have been dashed, my dreams shattered, and the remnants of my future are smattered all over the walls. They said no to the goats. And the sheep. And the Alpacas. I didn’t bring up the chickens.

I was on such a high yesterday, imagining myself darting around the garden, grunting commands at my new bearded, horned friends, guiding them into my run, and sharing the odd bit of carrot and cabbage with them; rallying them when we were all exhausted of the same routine, giving inspirational speeches about how we would be celebrated the world over for our uniqueness and brilliance. I even downloaded an application form for Britain’s Got Talent. But it’s all just a distant, painful memory now.

I found some goats in a shelter just down the road and was emailing them to make some enquiries when Mummy El caught me in the act. I showed her the video, which she thought was brilliant, but pointed out that that bunny lived on a farm, not in a four-bed detached in the suburbs.

Mummy J got in on the act of urinating on my carrot chips then, and piled on the reasons for not having goats. Apparently, they’re omnivorous in the strongest sense of the word. She said she’s had enough problems with slugs and snails eating her veg without farm animals getting in there as well. She reckons we’d see the end of the fruit trees and flower beds too, but I think she’s being over-dramatic.

They also said there’s a fine line between people affectionately calling the house a petting zoo and it actually becoming a petting zoo. They think they’re on the verge of being known as the crazy animal ladies. Only on the verge? I thought they were there a fair while ago, to be honest.

Another apparent problem with goats is that they’re not housetrained, nor can they become so. They said they have neither the time nor inclination to pick up after them day in, day out.

I begged, I pleaded, I pulled my best cute face and even tried demonstrating my natural talent for herding by running around their legs, nibbling at their ankles, but it was all to no avail.

They’ve put their feet firmly down on this one. So that’s it. No more Tino the Goat Herding Rabbit. No name up in lights. No Britain’s Got Talent.

I’m so depressed I could barely write this blog. I’ve spent that last 24 hours in mourning. I know I’ve got to pick myself up and try to move on, but I’m just not sure how.

Wake me up when the pain’s gone…

Maybe I should focus on my athletics career. Surely my mummies can’t have a problem with that?

I’m off to wipe away my tears and check if there are any specific rules banning the participation of bunnies in the 110m hurdles…

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