A post about the bunnies

Bandit loves me. Oh does he ever love me. When I lay on the floor in our living room, he comes over to me and rubs his head against my head, my hands--anything he can. Until I pet him on his head, which he loves. He loves me. When I sit on the couch and watch TV or study, he hops up next to me and chews up my syllabus, or my notes, whatever I leave there, into tiny shreds. I know I should stop him, but, he seems really happy while he's destroying my stuff, so, I let him. And it won't hurt him to shred up some paper. At least it's giving the carpet a break.

And Cocoa--she fears me. It's so strange how my hand reaching into their cage to refill their food dish appears to Bandit to be the hand of a loving and benevolent god, whereas my hand appears to Cocoa as that of a fierce angry god who might kill her just for the pleasure of watching her die a slow painful death.

So when I put my hand in their cage, Bandit runs to me to put his paws up on my wrist and pull my hand in deeper so he can nuzzle it, and Cocoa runs to the corner, afraid for her life. Acting like I make a habit of hurting her or something. It must really suck to be a rabbit sometimes, and needlessly fear your owner for years on end.

Chloe, the third, is a different story altogether. Her first love: Kevin. Her dad. She loves him. She likes to just lay really still by his feet, and hope he will notice her there and rub her head with his toes. If he doesn't notice her and he moves away, them she will follow him and stop right by his feet again. Her second love: laying on top of newspapers and magazines. She will even go as far as to pull them down from the coffee table onto the floor, spread them out, shred them a little at the edges, and then lay on them. She loves to do that. She's crazy.

They are all crazy. Rascally rabbits. What would I do without them? I love those bunnies.