What do you mean, dinner is late??
This is unacceptable – I ordered this salad an hour ago!
I’m keeping my eye on you, dad.
-Gus
I can’t believe you, dad. First you force feed us both critical care (even though we don’t need it, I tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen), but THEN you have the AUDACITY to drag BOTH OF US (not just Gus, but me too!) to the VET!?!
Oh you are SO in my bad books for the rest of your life, dad.
Just you TRY and come one step closer, and I will thump SO HARD, just you wait and see.
This is truly an outrage. And the vet didn’t even find anything wrong with us! So you wasted your time, which is no big deal as far as I’m concerned, but you also wasted MY valuable napping time, which is inexcusable!
-Betsy
Gus: I have no comment on any of this.
Some of you might have heard that Dad was feeding both of us critical care lately. Well, yes, he was. And we hated him for it. But we put up such a fight about it that he finally stopped.
Oh, and we started eating with more enthusiasm too. Maybe that helped. (I doubt it – it was totally our disapproval that did the trick, I’m sure of it.)
Anyway, dad was all happy when he saw us “sharing” a carrot this morning:
The thing is, he doesn’t understand that we have a different definition of “sharing.” As in, this carrot is MINE, Betsy, and you can’t have it, and I’m going to pick it up and take it over to the other corner so I can eat it in peace… and then you’re going to come and take it from me, and I’m going to have to grunt and take it back, and then dad’s going to have to swoop in and “remind” us that actually, yes, he did put out 2 carrots (one for each of us).
Which, of course, we already knew. We just like to play with your mind, dad.
p.s. We are fine, and don’t you ever dare try to syringe feed us critical care again. GOT IT, DAD???
-Gus
So you might have heard that mum and dad brought me to the vet recently. They were concerned about some stupid thing, like me not being able to see out of one eye, or having some cloudiness in my eye, or something like that. Totally unnecessary, I tell you.
Well, the vet said my right eye has developed a cataract, and that this is supposedly something that just happens, especially in bunnies, and especially as they get older.
Wait, did the vet just call me “old?”
Anyway, now dad is giving me some stupid eye drops for inflammation (my eyes were not inflamed, but they are doing it “just in case” it develops into glaucoma) which I HATE and DO NOT WANT.
Aside from this, I am doing quite well, thank you… and I will be doing much better once dad stops giving me these stupid eye drops.
Suffice it to say, I am giving out the highest levels of disapproval at the moment.
Remember, dad, I only need 1 eye to keep it on you…
-Gus
Dad was out for a walk yesterday when he stumbled across one of our rabbit training grounds, where we’re training our rabbit invasion army.
The names of these wild bunnies have, of course, been changed to protect their identity.
This is our crack special operative team, Mr. Rabbit and “Little Dude,” the groundhog demolition expert. They’re part of the first wave that will break into a house and liberate any carrots, treats, or imprisoned bunnies.
Another one of our operatives, code-name “Doormouse,” keeping a close eye on dad & his stupid camera.
When dad tried to escape, he found his path blocked by another operative, call-sign “Silverback.”
When dad tried to edge closer, he was warned to “back off” by our drill sergeant, Mr. Tibbs.
Code-name “Horatio” pauses before breaking out into a practice run.
Naturally, we practice being super-stealthy as well. (We’re like fuzzy little ninjas.) Dad managed to catch one of our operatives getting ready to vanish into the underbrush.
Once again, Mr. Tibbs is keeping a close eye on dad’s behavior. He was very lucky he made it out of here in one piece, actually, but he doesn’t know that. Stupid dad.
Finally, dad gave up and left – under the watchful eyes of our sentries, of course!
I told dad to keep this rabbit army in mind the next time he thinks about not giving me treats.
-Gus
Dad (and mum) say we beg for treats too much. But they’re wrong – we don’t beg for treats… we DEMAND treats!
And sometimes, just to liven things up, we make our demands from the other side of the kitchen (to keep mum and dad on their toes).
C’mon dad, put the camera down and give us some treats.
Time to give the bunnies treats, dad.
…You’re… not going to give us treats, are you?
I don’t even know what to say to this. Betsy’s so mad about the lack of treats that she’s thinking about leaving right through the front door. Look what you’ve done to her, dad! All because you didn’t give us treats!
This is a disgrace. I’m out of here….
…No, wait, maybe we’ll have better luck from the other side of the kitchen. Hi dad! Did you miss us? I know it’s only been like 10 seconds, but… GIVE US TREATS!
You tell him, Betsy. Give him… THE STARE.
…The stare isn’t working, is it?
Even Betsy is shocked by this outrageous lack of treats dispensed on our command.
That’s it, dad, you’re in my bad book now. I’m going to ignore you and your stupid camera and just groom myself to take my mind off of how horrible it is that you didn’t give us treats when we demanded it (for the 10th time this morning). Just who do you think you are, anyway?
Harumph.
-Gus