Rest in peace, Parsley.

Parsley had been sick for almost a week with a stomach problem. This is very dangerous for rabbits; it's like colic in horses, if that means anything to you. I took her to the vet, and she stayed overnight and looked like she was getting better. I gave her the medications the vet gave me all week, but today she passed away in my arms.

Goodbye, Parsley. You were a good bun.

- The Food Lady

Lazy days of summer? Hardly...

You can never be too careful.

Once again, dear readers, I must beg your forgiveness for the infrequency with which I have updated this site. You see, one might think the life of a house bunny such as myself would be one of leisure, but the truth is that I have quite the demanding schedule. Between securing the perimeters each morning, practicing my speed and agility with daily sprints and drills, redecorating, and surveillance shifts, I have hardly the moment for a good bunny flop most days. You see, the Food Lady and her consort are generally quite hapless when it comes to being aware of imminent danger. Just this morning, I tried in vain to warn them of a ferocious beast I heard approaching from across the street: I stamped my foot loudly, I raced for shelter, and all they did was sit there quite obliviously on the sofa. I think I even heard one of them laughing! Luckily for them, it did not sense our presence -- but next time we may not be so fortunate.

The Food Lady, in fact, is so brazen in the face of sheer evil that she continues to allow for the presence of the PSM (whose full name I shall no longer allow to sully my whiskers). How is this, you may ask, since I last reported the beast was slain? Indeed, readers, I do not know how it is possible, but I have seen it and heard it in action once more. It has gone into hiding -- it now sequesters itself behind a closed door, where I have as yet been unable to attempt to disarm it once more -- no doubt it fears me and knows that I have found its weakness -- its jugular. Fear not, dear reader -- the Food Lady seems blithely unaware of the danger she courts, but I will put an end to this reincarnating fiend of darkness once and for all.

In the meantime, I have decided it best to vacate the premises while I devise a new plan for how to subdue the PSM. I have arranged to stay at an undisclosed location where I will be able to gather my forces and center myself before reentering the fray. I am sending the Food Lady and her consort out to various safehouses as well, since I will not be in the burrow to protect them, soft-minded, short-eared things that they are. Perhaps without its quarry at hand, the PSM will grow weary and move on. One can only hope...in the meantime, I will be meditating deeply and fully on the Bun-ness and plan to return ready to do battle once more.

Be vigilant, dear readers...keep your ears at full height, and I will update you upon my return.

Yours in Bun-ness,

Parsley

Victory is mine!

Dearest readers, allow me to apologize for the length of time in which you have been without news from yours truly. Of course, it is not at all my fault; rather, the Food Lady had been rather busy with something called "work" which she claimed had priority over taking my dictation. (A ridiculous notion, of course.) Thankfully, this "work" of hers has ended, meaning we are back to spending plenty of time being buns and sitting on the couch.

Of course, during the weeks in which I was not able to write, I did not waste my precious time and energy. On the contrary -- I spent my increased free time thinking...thinking, and plotting. As you know, all is happy and calm in my burrow most days, except for Sundays, when the Food Lady unleashes the evil forces of the Purple Suckmonster. Thus it has long been my dream, my raison d'etre, to finally kill this evil, droning, sucking monster once and for all, and restore peace and harmony in the burrow for ever.

On my first arrival in the burrow, I searched the Suckmonster for its weakness. I discovered that it derives its lifeforce from a laughably thin black cord with which it is tethered to the wall while dormant. Naturally, it was only a millisecond's work to bite the cord, which I believed would render the Suckmonster permanently lifeless. And yet behold the evil unlagomorphity of the Suckmonster: the fiend was mysteriously able to regenerate and become useful again, with just a thick black scar where my perfectly neat bite marks once were!

I repeated this operation numerous times in my first year, desperately hoping that the cord would stop regenerating. Each time, the cord grew shorter, but still the thing would mysteriously heal! Eventually, the beast grew canny, hiding itself behind a protective fence and thereby preventing me from reaching its vulnerable jugular. But while the beast grew canny, I grew patient...very patient.

I watched, and I waited, knowing the monster would one day grow complacent -- and careless. The opportunity presented itself one day last week -- the protective barrier was ajar, and a moment's work rendered the monster once more silenced. I did not rejoice, however, as I expected the cord to heal once more, as it has always done before. And yet Sunday came and went, the day when the beast awakens from its slumber, without the dull roar of its awful sucking power. And another day, and another...and it seems the beast is finally beaten! At last I can live in peace, victorious, knowing that the fur, bits of hay, and scraps of paper that I strategically place throughout the burrow will remain, and that my Sunday afternoon naps under the bed will go undisturbed. The Food Lady thanks me for my diligence, I am sure.

Best,

Parsley

Nesting

Ahhh, Spring...what can I say, it was a beautiful day today...sunny, warm, but not too warm...and it put me in the mood for a little redecorating. I was going for a Martha-esque shabby chic here...is it too much?




I think the Food Lady will love it...don't you?

xoxox
Parsley

Sunday = Bunday

Sundays are one of my favorite days of the week, since the Food Lady and I get to hang out and be buns together most of the day. The only glitch is that, at some point in the day, my Food Lady insists on taking out the Purple Suckmonster and chasing me around the burrow with it. I cannot fathom how she can stand to keep such a thing in the house; the Big One shows much more sense regarding the Monster, preferring to leave it chained up in a corner and rarely, if ever, setting it loose. The Food Lady, however, insists on performing this strange ritual every Sunday, and on other days at irregular intervals, as well.

The Monster is particularly noxious because it makes a loud roaring/whining noise, sucks up everything in its path, and cannot be escaped by hiding under the bed. No, the Monster is able to stick its long neck right under the bed and suck up all the lovely fluffy bits I have been working all week to pull out of the carpet! Truly unthinkably rude, this creature is, and dangerous to boot. I have done what I can to attempt to destroy the monster: I discovered its main artery, a long, thin cord hanging down from its neck, and chewed through it time and time again while it slept an unnatural slumber, and yet to no avail; the Monster re-awoke each Sunday as if nothing had happened. I truly believe it to be some form of unnatural demon, and I doubt my Food Lady's sanity for trammeling with such dark arts.

I have posted its picture here so that you, too, can be on the lookout for the Purple Suckmonster in case it attempts to invade your burrow:

Good luck, and Happy Bunday,

Parsley

xoxox

My Checkered Past

Despite my excellent breeding, charming personality, good looks, and meticulous personal hygiene, I have not always lived the life of luxury to which I have grown accustomed. In fact, I dare say my personal history is a cautionary tale of how even the best among us can and do fall from grace. You see, as hard as it may be to believe, I was once homeless.

Yes, I was a victim of the Great Recession. As a young bun, I was adopted into a warren with a nice companion who provided me with adequate nourishment and social activity. However, my burrowmate was rarely around to spend time with me, as she was forced to spend more and more time out of the burrow foraging for food. Now, we buns crave constant attention and companionship, and I was growing weary with the arrangement, and I believe the strain of seeing me lonely and forlorn each evening led my companion to take the drastic step of abandoning me in disgrace at the City Animal Shelter.

I was still quite a young bun at the time, and my memories of my time spent at the shelter are vague; perhaps I have already blocked most of the horrors from my mind. However, I do remember spending days in a cold metal cell, with no opportunity to snuggle up with a companion and share body heat, much less to receive a good head rub or ear scratch. Visitors would occasionally release me into a small pen where I would do my best to stretch my legs and get some much-needed exercise; however, I was always wary, as we rabbits were not the only animals in this part of the shelter. No, I was relegated to something called the Small Animal Room, in which were housed, along with about a dozen or so sad and lonely rabbits, several guinea pigs, rats, mice, and various kinds of birds and fowl. Now, I am an open-minded bun, and I did not on principle mind sharing space with these various species, although the young male rats did sometimes look rather lasciviously in my direction; but one creature in particular was my nemesis: the Giant Rooster. I have no idea what such a creature was doing living in the city in the first place; it seems a ridiculous place for such a large and loud barnyard animal to reside. And yet, there he was in the City Animal Shelter: nearly two feet high at his ruddy crest, easily eight pounds of pure, dimwitted machismo, and with an earsplittingly loud crow which reverberated at irregular intervals off the metallic walls of the Small Animal Room. Needless to say, I was aghast at the sight and sound of this particular burrowmate. Little did I know, however, that he would play a key role in uniting me with my future Food Lady.

You see, occasionally visitors looking for new burrowmates would enter the Small Animal Room and be inspected by one or more of its residents. The visitor would be placed in one of the recreation pens, and shelter residents would take turns inspecting the visitor to see if a good match would be made. I myself inspected several visitors in this fashion, but was never particularly impressed. Then, one day, my Food Lady appeared and sat in the recreation pen with some of the other rabbits. At this point in my incarceration, I admit that I had grown rather despondent and withdrawn. I had more or less given up hope that I would once again have my own burrow with my own thoughtful burrowmates to dote on me and bring me tender greens. Thus I gave the young female visitor little attention, assuming she would leave empty-handed, as had so many other visitors before her.

When I was placed in the pen with this visitor, I paid her little mind at first, as I was more interested in attempting to stretch and tone my cramped legs. She did offer me some delicious parsley, which I of course accepted politely. I was guarded, however, because the dreaded Giant Rooster so happened to also be taking his recreation at that time. (The poultry were never placed in recreation pens, of course, since they would just flap their way out of them at will). I was cautiously examining the perimeter of the pen when, for no apparent reason at all, the Giant Rooster flapped up and into my pen, and began to pummel my visitor with his scaly, clawed feet and wings! Being a valiant bun, I instantly leapt to defend the visitor, but realizing that I was no match for the awful bird, I instead moved into defensive posturing behind her back. In that moment, I knew: I had to get that poor visitor out of there and safely back to her burrow so that she would never be attacked by the rooster again! I made it clear to my attendants that I had chosen this one as my new companion, and we were both safely back in our new burrow within that same day.

In retrospect, perhaps that old Giant Rooster was not so much my nemesis as a strange incarnation of Destiny. For without his intervention, I might never have decided to go with my Food Lady back to her burrow. Life works in funny ways; I for one think my brush with transience has made me a better bun, more appreciative of the finer things in life, and of course I now have my Food Lady to rub between my ears and provide me with delicious, organically-grown, local delicacies at my slightest demand. In fact, I think it's getting to be about dinner time; I think I'll go chew on something until she gets the hint!

Yours Truly,
Parsley
xoxox

My Royal Lineage

The striped and spotted marking on the adorable fingerling bunnies in Tuesday's video post reminded me of my recent forays into genealogy, in which I attempted to lift the veil of mystery surrounding my birth and origins. For, while I am assured of my royal heritage, I have never been completely certain of my exact breeding and lineage, since I never met my father and was taken from my mother at a tender age. Thankfully, being a bunny of the internet era, I was able to do some basic research and uncover some likely clues to my genetic heritage.

I believe myself to be of the English Spot breed, one of the oldest breeds of rabbit, and one renowned for its gentle personality as well as for its glamorous, sought-after spot patterns. In fact, the French name for the breed is "lapin papillon anglais," or English Butterfly Rabbit, referring to the butterfly marking on our noses, which I feel I exhibit quite nicely. (English Spots with imperfect nose markings are known as "Charlies" since their marking resemble a small moustache). However, sources cite our "curious and fun-loving nature" as our best quality, and I must say I do agree with that description!

Below, I have posted my latest glamour shot alongside a 19th-century illustration of the "perfect" English Spot rabbit -- a Platonic ideal of rabbithood that has certainly never been attained, although I do think I come rather close -- what do you think?

You do see the family resemblance, don't you?

xoxox
Parsley