Betsy and I were enjoying the sun the other day (well, sort of), when dad came out and spoiled it all.
Can’t you see I’m trying to get some grooming done?
Can’t forget to scratch my ear.
We were having a nice time until YOU showed up, dad.
Betsy wiseley keeps herself mostly in the shade, though. She said she heard from mum that too much sun can be bad for you.
I don’t have to worry though; my white fur reflects all harmful sunbeams back into dad’s eyes. Take that!
-Gus
Dad got all sentimental on me today and put together a set of pictures from when I was just a baby bunny.
Pictures like this one, from when I was first rescued by my mom:
Or this, from when I was still very little and could make do with a tiny little litterbox/cage:
Or when I was so small, and I spent some time in the yard with a guinea pig named George:
Or this classic one of when I took dad for a walk (he claims it was the other way around, but we know better):
Those were the days:
I guess I was pretty small and cute, though:
Honestly, dad… so sentimental. I disapprove.
-Gus
I always enjoy spending a little time in my litterbox whenever dad cleans it out.
I just find it very relaxing… that is, until dad sees me and starts taking my picture!
Get lost, dad!
-Gus
Now I’m never going to get a moment’s peace at night:
Now I’m going to have to listen to Betsy tearing paper all night long. Thanks a lot, dad.
-Gus
Yesterday, dad gave me the BEST BUNNY PRESENT EVER:
That’s right – a box full of newspaper. He said I can dig and play in it as much as I like. IT’S AWESOME!
I just love pushing my nose through the paper and digging in it, and ripping the paper, and worming my way around – there’s just so much to do, it’s endless fun!
Oh, right, dad also got us a new bunny condo (a Mini Haven) too… but the box it came in had all this newspaper, and I think it’s more fun than the condo! (Gus doesn’t agree with me, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.)
Anyway, I need to get back to my box and dig some more – the paper is just begging to be re-arranged!
-Betsy
My belly is a bit white. Now that the weather’s turning nicer, maybe I need to lay in the sun and work on my tan?
(You can also see how Gus and I have marked this spot in dad’s office as “our own” by covering it with our fur. For some reason, dad doesn’t seem to appreciate this.)
-Betsy
I’m not a big fan of the tube, but Betsy really likes it – she likes to run through it, and also to toss it around our area at night.
Sometimes, though, I don’t understand what she’s doing with it.
Dad tried helping me out by moving the tube, but Betsy just tossed it back.
I guess she just… liked it there?
-Gus
Dad came out from his office yesterday and found me acting as the “lookout” for Betsy.
Unfortunately, Betsy got caught anyway.
I, of course, knew better than to get back there, so dad didn’t say anything to me. (I am pure and innocent as snow, of course.)
Betsy got a talking to and then was shooed out of there, and then dad moved the stuff around to make it not be fun anymore. Oh well.
-Gus
This morning dad came in and picked me up. He said he was worried about me, and wondered why I was hiding in his office so early in the morning.
Now he knows better than to doubt me.
I squirmed when he picked me up, and when I landed on the ground, my stupid dewclaw on my left paw broke… again. It seems like it’s always catching on something and breaking.
Of course, a broken dewclaw bleeds a bit, and when dad saw the blood, he sort of freaked out. And then he picked me up again.
He just doesn’t get it, does he?
So I had to sit still for a while on the kitchen counter while he held a paper towel around my paw to stop the bleeding. (I think it would’ve been fine if he’d just left me alone, I could’ve licked it to stop the bleeding y’know.)
Finally dad put me down and then went to clean himself up, leaving me to lick my paw properly. (It doesn’t even hurt anymore, honestly.)
When dad came back out with breakfast, my paw was just fine, and Betsy and I dug into breakfast. But I’m going to keep a wide berth from dad for the next day or so – just in case he feels the need to “check up” on my paw!
-Gus
Betsy’s bun-shui sometimes has negative consequences – like leaving no room for me to sit and eat my hay. So, instead, I have to sit in the bowl.
Hmmm, what’s that, dad? I shouldn’t be sitting in my hay bowl? I know, but it’s all Betsy’s fault!
What’s that? Betsy’s right there?
*om nom nom nom* I’m too busy eating to worry about that now, dad.
-Gus