Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Mad as Rabbits

So, yeah. The rabbit. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he’s still here. It is a fact of life that nearly everyone who wants a rabbit already has one. One person kindly wrote in to the blog after the first rabbit-entry and put me in touch with a person who actually wanted a rabbit. We spoke. She seemed lovely. But she was two hours away and I felt morally obligated to do a home-check without feeling vehicularly motivated to travel two hours. He remained here and will do so until the right home comes up.

After the first month, I had his testicles removed and he became much more delightful. I’ve had dogs and cats neutered before but I've never before seen such an about-face in dispostion. Where there was jerkiness, there is now charm. There is no more biting of the hands which feed him but merely an endless demonstration of delighted, if pointless, hopping. I’m so pleased with how this particular neutering went that I keep mentioning it. I’ve told several people that the world would be a better place if I was allowed to cram nearly all males in a cage and take them to the vet. On what I’m sure is a completely unrelated topic, Consort no longer allows me near his friends.

But he was still temporary (the rabbit, not Consort) and you could tell that because Bunny had no name. Name an animal and experience has shown you're one step away from getting the Christmas stocking made. So, for the first two months he was Bunny. Sometimes Mr. Bun if I felt like referencing Calvin and Hobbes. Then one day I was putting his newly-equable self to bed and I looked at his face and thought You look like a dentist. I don’t know exactly what it is, but something about his face which makes me want to lean into a bowl and spit. Trust me, he looks like a dentist. He became Dr. Bun.

Then, Dr. Bunnerman.
Then, Dr. Bunstein.
Finally, we settled on Dr. Marvin K. Bunstein, DDS.
The K is for Kenneth, should anyone ask, and they do.

But he’s not too formal so he usually goes as Dr. B. Unless, of course, he’s feigning death.

One afternoon, Consort went out to the garage and left the door to the yard ajar. Since Dr. B has shown an unwholesome fascination with the garage and those lovely perils within, Consort realized he had to make sure the rabbit hadn’t gotten inside. He called for the rabbit in all of his favorite places, then in the obscure places, finally looking in the far dusty corner of the yard. There was Dr. B, lying on his back, quite inert, a fly buzzing over one slightly-opened eye. He touched the rabbit gently with his foot. Nothing. Consort winced; something had killed the rabbit and it was best he take care of it before his girls saw it. He got a shovel from the shed and gently scooped the rabbit, at which point Dr. Bunstein leapt three feet in the air, dashed the length of the yard, panting in terror and glaring balefully at Consort over his offended but very alive shoulder. As Consort told the story later, “Even that fly thought he was dead.”

But it seems Dr. Bunstein is just an incredibly sound midday sleeper. La siesta de la muerte. We’ve all seen the death-nap. I rolled trash cans past him without waking him up. This makes sense because he’s nothing but white meat and a four nascent key rings. You certainly wouldn’t want to be prey who is aware of your surroundings.

You now know he’s attractive, amiable and a sound sleeper. What else can I tell you? Oh, right; he’s an idiot. Someone had to graduate at the bottom of bunny class and it might have been my furry dentist. Of course, we need to consider the job specs of a rabbit:

1. Make more rabbits.

2. Eat vegetables.

I'll never know how he fared on #1, but man is he feeble at #2. I’ll walk in the backyard carrying a clump of broccoli, a vegetable we’ve determined delights him to no end. Dr. B hears my footsteps and dashes out from some shady spot. I proceed to his food corner, where he gets his food. He circles my feet three or four times in delight because this is where food is served when I arrive, and I have arrived. I put down the broccoli at my feet, right next to him. Dr. B stares at me blankly.

Dr. B: Food?

Quinn: Right there. Next to you.

Dr. B daintily steps over the broccoli and inspects my foot.

Dr. B: We’re in the food corner! Food?

Quinn picks up Dr. B and turns him so his head is facing the broccoli. Dr. B steps on to the broccoli, turns around and looks up hopefully.

Dr. B: Give me a hint.

Sure, he’s a dim bulb but he did have the cunning sense to locate the one house in a six-block radius with a person even dumber than he is. And let's not forget, people, I'm allergic to rabbits! Then again, he's sweet. And utterly harmless. And it will be nice to have the convenience of a dentist in the family.

14 Comments:

Blogger The Write Girl said...

I had to read this blog aloud to my 17-year-old daughter since she has an appointment with the dentist tomorrow. Rabbits and dentists. Wow. Weird dreams are sure to be on tap for me tonight!

I'm also deathly allergic to rabbits, even more so than cats. Which made it very awkward when I was in fourth grade and had the teacher who raised prize rabbits on the side and always had one in his class. I cannot even count the number of kids who came up to me that year and said they hated having me in their class since we couldn't have a bunny in the room and they had ALWAYS wanted this teacher so they could have a bunny in the class.

Oh, the joys of childhood!

10:37 PM  
Blogger Sleepless in Serrano said...

I'm so loving this post...so giggle worthy - even a little snort worthy...makes me want to get a rabbit...not!

11:42 PM  
Blogger Sara J. Henry said...

I seldom laugh out loud at something I've read, but laugh I did at Consort's attempt at scooping up the not-dead rabbit with a shovel. In fact I read it twice and laughed again. Thanks for starting my day off with this.

5:43 AM  
Anonymous MidLyfeMama said...

"...white meat and four nascent key rings..." has me laughing out loud in my office. You are a wordsmith lady.

5:58 AM  
Blogger Debbie St.Amand said...

There I was, just being sorry I was awake, and dreading starting work shortly. Thank you for a good morning giggle before getting down to real life!

StDebb

6:25 AM  
Anonymous Ten Words said...

I think I've had that conversation with my dog...

9:17 AM  
Blogger What?!?!?....No Way.... said...

Quinn,

This is too funny. I worked for a Oral Surgery Office and two of our Dr.'s last names start with the letter B.

I started called them Dr. B #1 and Dr. B # 2.

I bet they look just like your Dr. B!

Have a blessed day and thanks for such a delightful blog!

9:53 AM  
Blogger Maria said...

Ahh, Quinn, it is over - you have given him a name. He is now part of the family. Seriously, you have written another hilarious entry in your blog - never stop - I am loving it, and checking in daily for new brilliant installments. I am so happy that I found this site a few months ago. I have passed your blog along to many others who enjoy it as much as I do. You are an amazing voice for the trials and tribulations of life that everyone can identify with. Keep on rocking the boat!

10:41 PM  
Blogger Rebecca said...

I'm sure this is big time TMI, but what the hell.

I have always waited to long to go to the bathroom. For as long as I can remember back into my childhood. Always.

Now I know that I HAVE to make sure I've gone before reading one of your blog posts. Bunny's reaction to the shovel ride was too much for me to handle. And just imagining Consort's reaction to Bunny's reaction makes me laugh to.

The laughs in this post have legs.

Thanks for another great one.

1:19 AM  
Anonymous josita said...

"Four nascent key rings" cracked me up, as did the climactic shovel scene and the bit on broccoli. Thanks for updating us on Dr. B!

You might enjoy this romance parody featuring a lusty lagomorph (disclosure: I know the author). http://manwritingaromance.blogspot.com/

10:30 AM  
Blogger Dawn Maria said...

Is a death-nap a deeper version of the cat-nap?

Maybe the rabbit isn't an idiot after all!

11:29 AM  
Blogger Nancy in PA said...

We three enjoyed this tremndously. :-) Thanks for a laughing start to our day...

9:34 AM  
Anonymous Lydia said...

This was so funny! I laughed at the death-nap shoveling scenario and the key-ring description. I enjoy your writing so much!

7:28 PM  
Anonymous Pat Christensen said...

O.k., my sister had a rabbit years ago. The rabbit was aggressive, highly intelligent and a semi-professional locksmith. You couldn't keep the damn thing in it's cage. I spent a month on my sister's couch once. The cats were supposed to be in my niece's room, the dogs slept in the living room with me, along with the caged gerbil and the caged guinea pig. One of the cats, a half-feral beast who spent winters indoors with my sister's family and summers outdoors on her own, was called Annie. Annie was a reasonable enough housemate and the family liked her well enough. But the rabbit? The rabbit LOVED her. Desperately. Every night, he would manage to slip out of his cage and chase Annie around like a mad thing. The problem was, he'd occasionally catch her. When Annie cat came up pregnant, we were convinced we were going to have crabbits on our hands.

However, Annie produced a litter of perfectly normal kittens. She presented the litter in the hall closet and proceeded to raise them there for their first several weeks, occasionally leaving the next for food, water and a litter-box-break.

During such breaks, however, the rabbit showed that he was NOT the brightest legomorph on the block by stalwartly hopping forth and landing squarely on top of the kittens, where he would sit firmly, baring his little buck teeth at all comers. These were HIS kittens and the world should beware!

He remained convinced of this, despite Annie's pointed (and clawed) efforts to persuade him otherwise, until the kittens were old enough to give to homes of their own.

Oddly enough, I miss that rabbit.

11:44 AM  

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