Room Mate, We Meet Again.

IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING RIGHT NOW. Correction, make that two-thirty. Why, oh why am I still up, playing on my macbook and surfing the web? Well, I’m glad you asked. My new room mate is making it rather hard to sleep. So instead, I’ll recount what I’ve done for the day.

Tasks:
Manage to live through the drive home – check.
Pick up indoor rabbit cage – check
Clean cage – check
Add one adorable, floppy eared goofball of fur to the cage – check
Shovel driveway, do dishes, wash laundry, wrap presents, shop for more presents and wrap them? Um, can I get a rain check? Those are still a work in progress.

Here’s.

The.

Deal.

Rabbits make for noisy, messy room mates. I took pictures of the cleaning/cage setting up process. I should’ve taken one just five minutes after I had it all done pretty and he’d messed it all up.

Take neat picture of cleaning the cage.

Photo of me dreading to finish cleaning the said cage.

Add bedding. Run hands through it for a half hour for its cheap, relaxing quality.

Top it all off with water bottle, food, hay, litter pan with Kitty Litter
(that he neglects to actually USE)

Add Houdini to the cage. Hope he doesn’t escape! No that’s not really how he got his name. That’s a completely different story.

And now to top it all off. . .take the freakiest picture of an eye I’ve ever seen.

Houdini, I know you don’t read, but please understand at least this: I could have left you out in the frigid cold all winter, with me only making trips to feed your insatiable hunger, and break the ice out of your water day in and day out. It would have snowed. And since you tend to use your BED as your litter box, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been very comfortable.

And to be honest right now, having you outside doesn’t sound half bad again, since I’ve been listening to you digging out all your precious litter I carefully arranged. Give it another twenty minutes and you’ll get bored with that, and move to chewing the bars like a madman trying to break out of a top security prison. I’m sure I’ll move your cage around the house at least five times, trying to find a spot where I can’t hear you jumping about.

But noooooo . . .despite the fact that you have a double coat of fur, regardless of the fact that you beat Bigfoot when it comes to how much fur-per-square-inch you have on the bottom of your feet, and ignorant to the history books that tell me your ancestors have lived, do live, and will continue living outside, MY NURTURING INSTINCTS MADE ME HAVE TO BRING YOU IN. Dang rabbit, you better love me, that’s all I gotta say!