Hey, dad… where are my treats? Don’t you know what day it is?
No treats? I’m… very disappointed in you, dad.
Look at poor Betsy, dad. She wants a treat. Won’t you give her (and me) one? I think it’d be in your best interest. If Betsy doesn’t get a treat, she might start hungerly eyeing mum’s shoes, if you know what I mean…
C’mon dad, how can you say no to us?
Oh, now you’ve done it. Betsy says “I’m over you, dad.” You’ve been snubbed.
I’ll tell you what, dad… it’s a whole day event here. There had better be some more treats for us by the end of the day. That’s all I’m saying.
This all happened about a month ago, but I was finally able to sneak the photographic evidence away from dad.
Yes, once again dad forced us to pose for his Christmas card.
Needless to say, we DID NOT APPROVE.
What you can’t see is all the stuff around us – dad was trying really, really hard. Just look!
I think this qualifies as bunny torture.
This was the final result:
I think we’ve finally convinced dad that “posed” pictures just aren’t going to work with us anymore. We won’t put up with it. I think next year he won’t try anything this outlandish – which means we’ve succeeded in putting a stop to this nonsense. Bunnies: 1, Dad: 0!
Everyone have a merry Christmas! I hope you get lots of treats!
After those first joyful Christmases, filled with treats, phone books, and wrapping paper to chew and shred, mum and dad somehow got it into their heads that they should send out Christmas cards… with pictures of us on the front.