“AUBREY, DON’T BREED THAT RABBIT. I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD BE RAISING RABBITS IN THE BACKYARD” click.
Grams, the one and only Grams, had went from being the first to say, “catch it and breed it” to something along the lines of “I’ll take you off the will if you do”. There are ups and downs to living with someone that I believe to be bipolar my friends, ups and downs (did I just crack a joke? I think I did. . .)
I felt heartbroken with my desire for tiny, soft cuddly baby rabbits, also called “kits”, and I began to question my desire to even catch the female in the first place. Let the dang thing eat my tomatoes. I hope it goes back home, so I don’t have to chose between dumping it on mom, or the humane society. Either way, Nameless is my responsibility now.
One and a half tomato plants down, six more to go. I was running out of time and options. So far, Nameless had resisted arrest, defiled AubMo property, and stolen the heart of my main man – in rabbit form that is. She had to be dealt with. I found a fishing net at my parents house and set up my strategy. It might take a day or two, but Nameless was not going to win this one.My lucky break was after work, when I was able to sidle up close, corral her into a pen and drop the net on her. I was so excited that I almost let her get away.
On first glance, Nameless appeared to be a mottled black and gray Netherland Dwarf mix breed. A little on the thin side, but not unhealthy. First thing I did was a thorough inspection. (Random fact: Have you ever flipped a rabbit on it’s back? Did you know they go into a trance? Try it sometime. Just remember to cover their eyes first. Chickens do this same thing.) She was definitely a female, but it was hard to tell her true health from under all that fur. The children that had owned her before (using that term very loosely) had placed a tiny red cat collar around her neck. Pet Owning Mistake Number 1 – you never collar any pet that you let wander outside, especially a rabbit. They are children, so they are forgiven.
After taking that off, I started combing her. It was a slow process, because the brush was only getting little tufts here, a wisp of fur there. Not very effective. After a few good tussles with the comb I realize – she’s not gray at all. She’s coal black. Black as pitch. Black as the night without the city lights and the stars. The gray was all the dead, clumped fur that she wasn’t able to reach and pull off, so I had to give her a hand. Want to know what “a lot of hair” off of a rabbit looks like?
That’s what a lot of fur looks like – of the fur I could manage to keep from sticking to my pant leg, my shirts and even my face anyway.
Here is the comb for a comparison. Still don’t believe how massive this pile of fur is?
That is my foot – size 8 1/2 and not at all dainty or little. Please don’t mind the absence of nail polish. I had the polish in my hand earlier, cap undone and ready to paint, and I got lazy and changed my mind. It’s an Aubrey thing.
To recap, the before:
After a mani/pedi, wet hand bath, and serious plucking of the fur:
See? Black. Blackity black black black.
Shiny little blacky. As dark as the bottom of my heart. Okay, I think you get it. Seriously. Don’t listen to me.
And just for your amusement. . .I apparently own deamons. I honestly don’t know what that blob of light is. A ghost? An apparition? Wayward streetlight? Help me here. Apologies for the drab and dreariness of this photo – apparently the rabbit didn’t get the memo that she needed to be caught, cleaned and in her cage by curfew in order for me to get pictures in good lighting.
Rabbits. They never learn, do they?
