Bunzillas in the Mist.

Cicero: A Hot Mess
This is what an ungroomed English Angora with a bad hair cut cuz his bother peed on him looks like. 

The bunnies will be a year old in April, I've had them six months now. Prior to coming to live in the holler with the other assorted critters, the brothers spent most, if not all, of their time in a small wire cage housed in the corner of the barn, under another wire cage containing a ginormo hussy of a Flemish Giant. The woman we bought them from seemed nice enough and I'm sure she loved her critters, but I don't think they got much one on one time. 

The first time The Amazon cradled sweet little Reginald in her arms, he growled at her. Bunny growls are serious business. And kind of cute.

I know they'd never been combed out before. The bunny lady clipped them down pretty close before we picked them up that night, after we took the scenic route in the wrong direction through the hillbilly back country. 

I made the decision to get angora bunnies after seeing their fluff for sale on Etsy. I didn't get bunnies just for that purpose, but I thought it would be neat to produce fiber. I entertained the thought of learning to spin it myself, before I took on the second job and suddenly found myself having to schedule pee time in to my evening shifts. The Amazon bought one of those spinny spindley hickies, but she's not been home much to do much artsy fartsy craft crap.

Anywho, the last six months I've been tackling the combined challenge of making friends with, as T.A. calls them, "The Sirs," while also trying to get them used to being manhandled, combed, brushed and snuggled against their will. 

I watched a lot of online videos on rabbit grooming, horrified by the number of them which suggested HOG TYING the little critters, stretched out like they're on a BBQ spit. 

Oh hell to the no. I don't think so.

I have to admit, they still don't exactly volunteer to be picked up. I think that's just a rabbit thing. I bring them in on the weekends and they have the run of the house. I put their blanket down with a litter box and they chase Yoda around. I watch close to make sure everyone plays nice, but I'm not too worried. I think the cat is afraid of them and Sammy doesn't care about anything as long as it lets him sleep. They kind of hang around wherever I am, as long as I don't make any sudden moves or act like I'm going for the comb. 

The angora boys are completely different from Lola the lop who used to hop in my lap and try to steal my banana every morning at breakfast and who used to go flip out and tear around the RV without warning like she was on crack. Reginald and Cicero kinda lumber around, occasionally chasing each other and trying to get their hump on. 

They are bunnies. 

I'd given up on ever having a cuddly, love bunny relationship with The Sirs. They just weren't in to it and seemed content to lay around the floor offering little or no interaction with me. 

But this weekend, there was a glimmer of hope.

First, I was combing Reginald on the bed so I could watch Netflix while I worked. The satellite is temporarily non-functioning. T.V. didn't make the priority bill list this month. 

Anyhooter, I have to stop a lot when I'm combing Reginald because if I don't he turns in to a teeth grinding wiggle worm. I'm sure there's another term for it, but I just think he's a brat and doesn't like to sit still for very long. I was letting him take a break and hop around on the bed when he found a spot under the ceiling fan and sprawled out like Al Bundy. 

It was a particularly warm weekend. 

After a while I finished combing him and set him down in the floor while I went in search of his brother. Upon my return to the bedroom, I discovered Reginald back on the bed, having reclaimed his turf and resumed his "I am male, this spot is mine, don't make me pee on it" position. Sammy, the Boston Baked Beagle had moved to the grooming blanket, demanding that his five hairs be brushed, so I did his hair up a little while Reginald lounged and Cicero waited patiently under my left arm. 

I was amazed that Reginald was not only content to grace me with his presence, but did so voluntarily.

It was a bunny breakthrough. I felt like Jane Goodall.. you know.. the gorilla lady. 

BUT THEN...

After both buns had their hair did, I took them back to the living room and plopped them down on their blanket while I returned to the bedroom to watch a movie about a bounty hunter. I wasn't too concerned, I can sorta see into the living room from the bed and all the other animals were piled up there with me. After a few minutes I heard the muffled thump of bunny feet coming down the hall. I peeked through the doorway and saw Cicero easing towards the bedroom. 

"I see you sneaking up on me Sissyboy."

He turned and hauled bunny butt back to the living room. A minute or so later, I heard him again. I looked out into the hallway and watched him come closer.

"I seeeeee youuuu Cicero."

Again, he turned and hopped back to the kitchen.

When I heard his approach the third time, I decided to ignore him and see what he'd do. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and saw that this time, he'd brought reinforcements. Reginald was bringing up the rear. They hopped towards my doorway, Cicero hopping a couple of feet then stopping, watching me. I pretended I didn't see them, he inched closer. I waited, he came all the way up to the edge of the carpet. I peeked around the door at him. 

"I seeeee youu."

He turned and hopped down the hall like a giggling toddler. At least, that's how I heard it in my head. 

The bunnies were playing with me. They kept it up for a while. It was like when you start playing fetch with a ball obsessed dog and later regret it when they won't let you stop. 

IT'S LIKE I'M THE WABBIT WHISPERER.

And this? This is what happens when you go without sex for too long. You become an old woman playing with her bunnies on Sunday afternoon and it's the COOLEST THING in your life at that moment. 

There are worse ways to end up I guess. 

Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!!