The Bun Life - Wabbits!!!

I wanted to vacuum my apartment yesterday. Sounds simple right? Ask any non-bunny person what they have to do to vacuum their apartment, they will just say, "Get out the vac, and go!" Yup, but not us, at least not me, not when you're life is controlled by a Pumpernickel Princess and her Evil White Knight. Anyway, they were under the couch when I got out the vac (huge shocker there), so I thought maybe I could just run the vac for a little bit before they came out. You see, Thumper is a certified electrician of the highest order, he likes to "fix" the vacuum wire (remember this?).

I had to vacuum no matter what, there was 12 inches of white and pumpernickel hair lining the entire apartment. If I was a weaver I would never have to leave the house for supplies, I could sell my own pumpernickel clothing line on Ebay. I could see it now, Pumpernickel Painter's Jeans by Baby Fwan of NY. Anyway, I start the vacuum up, and before i could even lift my foot to start vacuuming, the two fat wabbits came charging out from under the couch. Of course they run right to the vacuum, of which I have wound up the wire to by now. They chin the vacuum for 20 minutes, just in case any local intruding bunnies decide they want to claim the vacuum as their own, Thumper goes around back to make sure all the wiring is "fixed" but is quickly disappointed. Then they lay right in the middle of the room. Okay, uh uh, not happening. I am vacuuming, and this big fat Tumpie rabbits and Pumpernickel loaf are going to hang out in there cage while i do it.

I now have to somehow get these two into their crate, which is an extra large puppy pen, so it is not like a bunny burrito or anything. Thumper is the easy one, he has rocks in his head and can basically be convinced of anything at any time. I take a piece of carrot and lead him in there, he walks right in and I close the jail cell on him. If looks could kill I would be dead, he looked at me as if I was abandoning my only son in a foreign jail. "Come on! It's only for a minute Thumps!" Then he lived up to his name, a whole array of different thumps echoed throughout the apartment. I try to calm his thumping but he is pissed, oh well, tough rumpus. Then I had to get Baby Fwan into there too, this is a whole other matter, Baby Fwan is an ex-running back for the San Francisco Forty-Bunners, and she has not lost her moves I tell you. I finally, after 20 minutes, trap her and pick her up into my arms. I love holding my Baby Fwan, if only for 27 seconds. I put her in the cage with dopey, and close the door, then set off to vacuum. All is good right? I mean they are bonded tightly, right? I mean, it's not like there will be any problems, right? I wish.

I forgot to tell you what else Thumper is, a TOTAL bully. He pushes everyone around like he is the big fat kid on the playground. He even pushes me around! He stole my lunch money last Friday, I am really embarrassed about that, but that is another issue. When I go to feed them every morning, Thumper charges her while I am getting the food ready, he doesn't want her to have ANY, especially carrots. Anyway, in the cage I hear some ruckus, I see Thumper face humping poor Frannie. You know, I don't care what species you are, even human, face humping is an extremely intimate act that should be excised sparingly. Thumps doesn't get that part, that is his "handshake" with other bunnies, especially FEMALE bunnies. It's almost like he is this big fat pimp with a white mink coat on walking down 42nd street. Then he sees one of his ho's, I mean doe's, and "where my money (carrots)??" Then once she doesn't hand it over, on with the face humping. Not right Thumpus rumpus, not right.

So poor Fran starts running around the cage, in circles, to get away from the crazed Pimp Thumpus, and they start doing the circling thing, which all of us bunny people know is a prelude to biting and fur stripping, some people call it barbering but one time I saw Sydney snipping Frannie's bangs with a barber's scissor, so I kind of have a new meaning for the word barbering around here. BF and TR are going about 900 mph in circles, I almost was gonna put a little box of chocolate milk in the middle and see if the fat separates from the water like in the high-school biology centrifuge experiment, that's how fast they were going. So again I had to stop the vac, and release Frannie from the cage. I kept the pimp in the cage to cool his jets, and poor Fran ran under the couch, which really shocked me since she hardly ever goes under there.

Then I vacuumed, Frannie popped out a few times to make her position known to the vacuum. I couldn't help myself, I came towards her with the vacuum a few times :) She did her popcorn binkies to pop away from me, then went right back under the couch. What a day.

The Bun Life - Rosetta Bun, and other Goings On

Been about a week since I last posted, sorry, I have been real busy doing absolutely nothing. Actually, I have been busy really, I have been power juicing, after a good friend of mine recommended it, and I have really noticed the differences. I see the guy Jack Lalanne (spelling?) on TV juicing everything but the kitchen sink, and he is like 275 years old last time I checked, got me convinced. Anyway, it comes with a book of all kinds of different juice recipes, it lists the fruits and veggies you need to put in.

Strange thing happened the other day though, I went to grab the book and it was GONE, I couldn't find it anywhere. Then a day later the book suddenly reappeared back on the counter. It had a bite mark, of two buck teeth, on the top right corner, and it appears a page had been added. It was real obvious that it was added recently, it was all taped in. Anyway it had a new recipe in it, the drink was called, "Pumpernickel Passion" and the ingredients were as follows:

6 barrels of fresh carrots (the kind Bambi eats)
2 Bananas
6 more barrels of carrots
A few more carrots
Oh, did I mention carrots??
3 "sprigs" of couch stuffing


Gee, my first thought, obviously, was, "What the hell is a sprig?" Anyway, I have no idea who could have put this recipe in there, do you?? Pumpernickel Passion, jesus Baby Fwan, could you make it anymore obvious? Anyway. I am not making that stupid drink anyway. I have something more incredible (and just as meaningless) to tell you.

Ever see that commercial on TV for Rosetta Stone? Software that teaches you any language you want to learn from home? Well, I found out that Baby Fwan has learned Spanish in her spare time! I know, like you, the first thing I thought was, "How do you say Pumpernickel in Spanish?" I really don't know. Maybe, El Pumpernickel, or Los Pumpernickelos, or La Pumpernickela? Anyway, so Baby Fwan speaks Spanish now. I am jealous because now she is the only one that can communicate with the landscapers now. She is probably telling them to stuff her in a leaf bucket on the down low.

Well, the good thing is that Frannie knows how to tell me, in Spanish, that she is going to the Library, that the teacher is very nice, the car is very big, and her perm was $200.00. That info might save her life one day.

Now that we are on the topic of the military (we are?), I saw a show on TV called War Dogs, not the same one as before, but one from World War II. They talk about how the dogs had helped weed out the Japanese dug into the island tunnels and stuff, very brave stuff. I wonder how bunnies would have fit into that whole "service for the country" thing? I can see Baby Fwan, the night before being shipped out to Okinawa, asking everyone else "Do Japanese people like to pick up bunnies?" She won't care about the tanks and bullets, or even the War Dogs, just wants to know if anyone is gonna pick her up.

Bunnies, what would we do without them?

The Bun Life - Officially Warned

I received an email from someone in one of the rabbit groups in NY. She told me that the pictures of Frannie on the couch were not funny, she could die from eating couch stuffing, and my captions are not funny, and that I should consider that an "Official Warning". Okay, after about 35 minutes of straight laughing my @$$ off, my mind started to wander.

Since the warning came in an "official" capacity, I assume there is some kind of elite special forces unit on call that can be anywhere in the world with 24 hours notice. Kind of like the Delta Force, but for rabbit law enforcement. I could see them getting a page from their commander, who might be stationed at Fort Petco or some stupid thing. The page would read something like this:

"Emergency Warrant Issued. Suspect has fat pumpernickel bunny ingesting couch stuffing at a phenomenal rate. Mission is to rescue fat pumpernickel bunny, couch, and if there is time, the white bunny (so that fat pumpernickel bunny doesn't get "lonely"). Use of deadly force is authorized, only on suspect though, not on fat pumpernickel bunny. God speed gentlemen."

I could just see it now. 3 AM and all is asleep here. Then the bunny special forces crash through my door. Tearing the place up looking for the bunnies. Little do they know that they are under the couch though. Maybe I pull a weapon and start to put up a fight, then they have to retreat, form a perimeter, and start negotiations. I will keep my buns as hostages. The negotiator will say after a while, "Is there anything you guys need in there" as a way to start negotiations. Yeah, we need 50 pound bag of hay, 6 pound bag of pellets, 3 bags of care fresh, 100 mini carrots, 14 bags of couch stuffing from Bed Bath and Beyond, 27 heads of romaine lettuce, 4 bushels (is that a word?) of Basil, 2 gaggles of geese, and 4 apples. The negotiator would be like, "Okay, give us about a week, we just have to rent an 18 wheeler to get all this crap. They likely would just bomb the place to save themselves the hassle. LOL. I can just see them talking to each other, "Man, who knew you had to buy that much crap to take care of a few bunnies??"

Too funny, just for the record though, Franny can't get on my couch anymore, and when she did she never ate any stuffing, she just pulls it out. Not that it is anyone's business what my bunnies do anyway, but just in case anyone is curious.

The Bun Life - Gymnist Bunny

Well instead of writing any more depressing crap, I figured I would tell you what I did with Syd. Now that Fuzzy's side of the room is vacant, I decided that I could fence off the computer area and let Syd be free range where he can go on the bed, around the room, and stuff like that. Well, I set it up and let him out, then sat at my desk to work. The whole time I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye doing leaps, somersalts onto the bed, triple flips (okay thats a lie), and he even went onto the uneven parallel bars for a minute, great landing too. He is now ultra psycho crazy bunny. What a nutjob! I almost pee my pants watching him enjoying the heck out of running around again. I wanted something positive to come out of this, and now with Syd being free it has. BTW, he is perfectly litter trained, he NEVER pees or poops anywhere but the box, pretty amazing actually.

The Bun Life - R.I.P. Fuzzby

My poor Fuzz was put to sleep tonight at Catnip and Carrots. I got home last night and saw that she looked worse than usual. I brought her to the vet and the Doc said she has some kind of cancer, then she euthanized her with me right there holding her head. I have never lost a bun or put an animal to sleep before. It is absolutely horrible and extremely painful. I practically had a stroke in the vet's office I was so upset, now I am numb.

I just want to tell Fuzzby that I love you and hope you are in heaven running around with no more pain. I am sorry humanity is 95% worthless and only care about houses, money, and cars, and neglect and abuse animals that need them. The other 5% do what we can to make up for it, but we can't be everywhere all the time, and I hope that you are going to a much better place.

Thanks Fuzzby for being in my life, even though your stay with me was full of medical crap. If I knew all this back then I would still have taken you in. Rest in peace Fuzzles.

Jim

The Bun Life - Off-Topic Jim Update

Hello my rabbit friends, and bun life readers, I write to you with a heavy heart tonight from Stony Brook Hospital in NY. I came in 5 days ago or so with what I thought was just a swollen liver from taking Lipitor. I found I was right about the liver but they also caught the bottom of my lung with a abdominal CT scan and found a small nodule on my lung. First they told me it was likely tuberculosis. Nice huh? So they had to quarantine me in isolation room here for 4 days while they test sputum and PPD. Well, I don't have TB but they did another CT, a full chest CT, and found 2 more nodules, they are on both lungs. The pulmonologist says it doesn't look like cancer because it is fluffy and not solid, cancer is not like that usually. Of course though, nothing is certain. The original plan before I started typing this was to run blood cultures, run tests for infections, then bronchoscopy, then last resort lung biopsy, which is big time.

The pulmonologist has come into my room here just minutes ago, he has been talking with his colleagues all night evidently, and they now say they don't think they should take the ultra aggressive approach, and that they think it might be a kind of pneumonia. So they are juicing me now with antiobiotics for 14 days. After they get the cultures and tests back (which they are doing tonight) they will send me home on the ab's then CT again in 14 days. They are setting me up in their pulmonary clinic here so I can just show up if things get worse.

I miss talking with all of you, and I miss my dearest bunnies, whom I love. My poor sister is in cardiac ICU tonight at same hospital with heart problems, I have been walking down to see her. My parents have been a godsend and my Dad has taken care of the buns, he has gone totally out of his way (at age 65 with diabetes and leg problems) to do everything Baby Fwan has demanded. I don't deserve such amazing parents. Noone I know has parents like I do, and I am eternally grateful. I now have laptop but work laptop wont work with VPN unfort. I will update Bun Life as much as possible because Baby Fwan's antics are of course, top priority above any and all health issues. My darling Baby Fwan probably thinks her wishing has finally come true, I have vanished!!! In honor of her, I have requested all my eggs be served on pumpernickel bread. I am such a symbolist.

Thank you for reading my antics and welcoming BF into your heart. Will be posting soon. :)

Jim

The Bun Life - War Bunnies??

I just got done watching a show on the military channel called "No Dogs Left Behind" where different troops talk about how they befriended different dogs in Iraq and there was this big mission to bring them home by the SPCA. Really tugged at my heart strings, and then of course, knowing me, my mind started to wonder. About what? What else? Yup, Baby Fwan.

I pictured me bing in my 4th tour of duty, meanwhile the closest I ever got to being a soldier was renting Call of Duty for Xbox 360. Anyway, here I am on the FOB, that's Jarhead jargon for Forward Operating Base. What the hell would my story be like about befriending BF in Iraq when getting home, talking about it on the military channel?? I can be sure of one thing, it wouldn't at all resemble the beautiful lullaby that Gunnery Sergeant Slaughter yapped about. It would likely go something like so:

"Well one day after patrol, we went back to base, and from that day forward me and the other troops started realizing that every one of the base's couches had a hole the size of a football in them, and stuffing was missing. Huh? Yup, stuffing. So we thought maybe we had rats or something and put down traps to get rid of them. For the next 3 nights we would here one of the traps go SNAP!! and then we would see this thing, which strangely resembled a loaf of pumpernickel bread actually, dart across the room. We were all pretty scared silly, because we had no idea what could be that quick, and most of all, what the hell on earth looked like a loaf of pumpernickel bread. Secondly, I hate Pumpernickel!!

Anyway, after a day or so of SNAPS and darts, one of the troops said in the corner, "Oh my GOD!! It's a bunny!" We all put our M-16's down for a sec and we went over to have a look see. We all cooed and aahhhd, then one of the troops said, "Damn, I hate to be negative in the middle of a war zone, but it sure is an ugly bunny!" I pimp smacked him upside the head, and told him he was hurting the poor thing's feelings. The bunny, who I decided to name Baby Fwan after my third cousin by marriage, was cowering under one of the beds. We eventually moved every single piece of furniture out of the room that she could hide under. Then she just stared at us, she was actually frowning and looked terribly pissed off. But what was I gonna do, leave Baby Fwan in this hellhole of the earth named Iraq? Nah, not me. One of the troops, Staff Sergeant Weinershnitzel, decided he would try and pick her up. Fast forward 12 hours later, we are at the surgery wing of the field hospital, where the Staff Sgt. was undergoing plastic surgery after being nearly scalped by the big bunny. Poor guy, who knew rabbits hated being picked up? Well, one thing is for sure, the Staff Sgt. knew damn well now.

So we went to the Battle of Fallujah, and the whole time we heard that Baby Fwan was begging the Iraqi insurgents to "take me away from these people", we were very upset about that. We decided she needed to be caged. After listening to her incessant thumping all night, we put her on a cargo plane bound for the states. I heard the whole time she refused to use the litter box and the luggage section of the plane was all torn up because she found her way into crew's luggage. What a mess. The best thing was when I finally got home after my tour, Baby Fwan was waiting for me with open paws, okay she was actually sleeping under my mom's couch but whatever, at least she is home now. What a great tale of love and hate right?"

Sure, isn't the same story as the dogs is it?

The Bun Life - This is Ridiculous

I walked into my apartment today, after being away for a few hours, and when I came back the kids were safely tucked away under the couch, and there was a folded piece of paper on the floor by the front door, it was obviously a note, and it had "To Jim" written on it. Surprised, I opened the letter and sat down to read it. Boy was this stupid:

Dear Jim, My name is John Doe and I live in the area, but you don't know me and you will never meet me. Whatever you may think, this letter was not written by Baby Fwan, so don't think that. She has nothing to do with the writing of this letter, so if you find her DNA here then it is purely coincidental and you wouldn't have a chance in a court of law. The reason of my letter was to inform you that I am not happy with the treatment Baby Fwan, I mean your rabbits are getting, especially that gorgeous one Baby Fwan. She is beautiful, you know I had a loaf of Pumpernickel bread that looked just like her one time. I dont mean the bread looked like her only one time, I mean it was one time long ago, theoretically speaking of course, Anyway, back to the point: Rabbits, especially Baby Fwan, should NEVER be picked up, EVER, for any reason whatsoever. Baby Fwan..I mean your bunnies do not like being picked up, they fear it like you would the Boogie Man. So don't do it, EVER!! Oh and I just wanted to remark about how incredibly beautiful that Baby Fwan is. Wow, what a delightfully vivacious animal she is. I bet she is real smart too. Boy I can't get over how good looking she is, is she a model? She is definitely not fat, she is just big boned that's all. Also, I would highly recommend turning over the couch permanently to Baby Fw...oops I mean your rabbits. You should do this ASAP as far as I am concerned, it is good for your mental stability. I read that in the book, "Natural Cures that Baby Fwan Doesn't Want You To Know About" that I saw on TV late at night. Also, there is some talk about the complex being infested with a poison gas that only humans die from but not rabbits! You need to get away from this place, to save yourself. I would suggest moving out but keeping Baby F... I mean the rabbits in the apartment and still pay all the bills. This way I... I mean the rabbits will be comfortable while you are gone. This is very good advice coming from a sound mind. Bets of Luck to you Jim. John Doe

The Bun Life - Couch Symantics

When Frannie wants to do something, and makes up her mind that she is gonna do it, you will have to physically restrain her to stop her from doing it, probably the most determined rabbit I ever saw. Thumper, being the ever so gullible bun he is, will do whatever Frannie tells him to do, if this means bashing his head into a brick wall, then so be it.

Determined? Okay, let's talk about HOW determined Fwan is. Okay, well, before my couch became the landfill it is now, Frannie and Thumps started going under the couch, under the middle part where there are no recliners. I didn't like this, mostly because Fwan and Thumps would start doing construction and demolition projects under there while I sat down. I swear I could hear hammers and electric saws going, don't ask me how but I did.

So I decided I would try to stop them from going under the couch. I first put a playpen around the backside, then they picked a corner and went to work on it. They worked in 12 hour shifts, one slept while the other wiggled and scratched at the corner until finally they got in. They bundled up and fell asleep. I came home and was like, "Where are the buns?" Well, so much for that.

Next I took cardboard and taped it to the bottom and sides of the couch, doubling it up and then putting the playpen around again. Once again, Fwan and Tumps tag teamed the couch, ripped and clawed a hole (which was a perfect circle by the way) just big enough to squeeze their fat rumpuses through, then bundled up and fell asleep. Again, I came home to find my couch had been burglarized.

After that I decided I would use the playpen, tie shoelaces from the playpen to the bottom pegs of the couch, so they couldn't wiggle the playpen free from the couch, then took a pair of old sneakers and jammed them into the small openings that were left by the playpen. I jammed them in there really hard too, I didn't even think a person could get them out of there let alone a 6 pound bunny. Thumps and Fwan pulled an all nighter and in the morning, I came out and found a sneaker (nearly torn to shreds) in the middle of the room, and a bundle of bubbly bunny rabbits under the couch, sleeping.

Determined not to let them under the couch. I went and got the cement cardboard tubes. You guys know the ones. The ones I got are really thick. I bought one and made it the exact length of the couch. Then I place it behind the couch on the floor, and then pushed the couch up against the wall as far as it would go. The idea here was that they could still go behind the couch, by using the tube, but not go UNDER the couch because the tube blocked entrance to it. Then to block all avenues of entry I took an old pair of steel toe work boots and jammed each one into the small leftover openings that the tube left. We were set, no more under the couch, right?

Well, over the next few days, I would see Frannie disappear behind the couch, here her enter the tunnel, and stop while still in it. Then I would hear, scratch scratch scratch. I thought that it didn't matter because this tube was about 4 inches thick and was completely round and narrow on the inside, how could she possibly get through it by scratching. Anyway, I came home about 2 nights later and realized that two buns were missing. I looked everywhere but under the couch because I just assumed it was safe from their wrath. Anyway, I look under the couch from far away and see a white cottonball and a pumpernickel cottonball sticking ever so slightly out from the bottom of the middle of the couch.

Unreal. I looked at the tube, and in the middle of the tube, right where the tube aligns with the middle of the couch, there is a perfect circle hole going right through to the center of the couch. Since then I have signed over the deed to the couch to them permanently :)

The Bun Life - Under Construction

I took a nap earlier today, and woke up to a construction crew (Fran) renovating the house (cottontail cottage) nextdoor. Talk about annoying. I really was comfortable, and I think deep down Baby Fwan knew this and wanted to drive me into the depths of hysterical madness.

Scratch, scratch..scratch...scratch...scratch...claw...scratch..scratch..scratch.chew a piece off....scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch...claw....scratch...rip...scratch..scratch..scratch..chew a piece off....scratch..scratch..scratch....

FWANNIE!!! STOOOOPPPPPPP!!!

10 seconds of pure silent bliss. Then..

Scratch, scratch..scratch...scratch...scratch...claw...scratch..scratch..scratch.chew a piece off....scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch

(Sound of sneaker hitting the couch...) Booom!

FWANNIE!!! FOR THE LOVE OF FWAN, WOULD YOU STOP THAT!!???!!??

10 seconds of pure silent ignorant bliss. Then...

Scratch, scratch..scratch...scratch...scratch...claw...scratch..scratch..scratch.chew a piece off....then the unmistakable sound of a stream of pee hitting cardboard....

She does this when she wants to prove a point.

Sound of magazine flying across the room hitting the plastic garbage pail. Pitter patter footsteps, then I hear Fwan wiggle underneath the couch, the one I am currently in of course. I figure she is going in there to spoon with Thumper or whatever. Fine, sleep is here. Relaxation has finally prevailed. Then, from underneath my butt, I hear the wood beams of the couch starting up with the:

Bite...Bite....Bite...Scratch...Scratch....Bite...Bite....Bite...Scratch...Scratch....Bite...Bite....Bite...Scratch...Scratch...

Sound of my foot hitting the bottom of the couch.

FWANNIEE!! Stop it!!

Then I hear her pop out and go over to the water bowl. Then she lays down in front of the TV. I close me eyes, and not even 30 seconds later, the house nextdoor starts up again.

Scratch, scratch..scratch...scratch...scratch...claw...scratch..scratch..scratch.chew a piece off....scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..scratch..

FWANNN!!!! That's it!

Sound of me admitting defeat and heading off to the bedroom for a nap. Baby Fwan wins again.