First of all, I have Studmuffin's permission. I promise I do. He only demands full share on the royalties. Please don't let him in on the little fact that I'm spending all of this time on a blog that is bringing in no money. I know I've confused you, but all will come clear, just be patient.
It was a lovely spring night on May 30 of 1996. We had just gotten back from our honeymoon. Strangely enough, we had to stay with my parents for a night, because we couldn't be in our apartment in Arlington, TX where we were moving to until June 1st. Talk about uncomfortable! In fact, we spent one night with his parents, and one with mine. Ick. It's tying my stomach up in knots remembering how awkward and embarrassed I felt. *Shudder* Let's not dwell on it any more, okay? Oooookey-dokey.
This story involves my beloved pet rabbit, Buster. Buster was a good little bunny. In fact he was a house rabbit. Didja know you could have a house rabbit? Well, neither did I until my sister Paula had one, and I couldn't wait to grow up and have one of my very own. Paula is 8 years older than me, and Dawn is 12. There were lots of things they got do, and I couldn't wait to grow up to be just like them.
But I've digressed....
Buster was a wonderful bunny. He loved carrots (don't feed your bunny too many of these. It stops 'em up) and he loved alfalfa hay (don't feed your bunny too much of this either, or he'll get the runs.) A happy balance is the best way to go. My roommate discovered that he loved soda too, and he quickly mastered drinking out of a straw (we pipetted it for him, of course.) Hey, did you know that when a rabbit is scared, he stomps his feet amazingly loud and drops 3 little turds right there? Me neither, but we quickly learned it. The neighbors slam their door...THUMP went Buster's feet, and out popped 3 little turds. It was always 3.
Did you know you can litter train a rabbit? Me neither...I never did succeed in this. You see, this particular step requires patience, but most importantly it requires you LEAVING YOUR BUNNY IN THE CAGE. Sabra and I were both terrible at that. You see, rabbits pick a place to do their business, and this is their bathroom. Therefore, you need to leave them in their cage until they decide their loo is in the cage. Buster's loo was behind the front door. So, that's where his litter box was. "Welcome to our lovely little home! Oh, please excuse the litter box, that's where the rabbit insists on going, so..." You can imagine what our guests must have thought of that! Did I happen to mention we were in a no pets allowed apartment complex? Shhh...Don't tell anyone.
Well, I bet you're wondering what all of this has to do with Studmuffin and permission to tell this story? Patience, patience, patience. Surely you realize that I must chase a million rabbits before getting to my point. Pun intended.
So, we're staying the night with my folks. I feel awkward, and I don't even want Studmuffin to hold my hand, much less show any other form of affection. Woops, there's that nauseous feeling again, and now I'm starting to sweat...I didn't realize this would be traumatic to me too. We were sitting in the living room watching TV with my parents. We weren't even sure what we were going to do with dear, sweet Buster. I didn't feel right leaving him in his cage all day, and you don't want to ever leave your rabbit unattended out of his cage. Can you say massive destruction? Anything wood is unsafe...Rabbits chew,and they chew a LOT.
So, Buster's ultimate destination was hanging in the balance. For some reason my parents didn't want to take him in. Just not a farm thing to do I guess... Studmuffin was sitting on the floor watching TV. He was just out of the shower, wearing gym shorts. I think they were purple Umbro shorts. Remember those? Very light weight, almost parachute material....Yes, this is significant. You see, he soon wished he was wearing canvas, or maybe even leather shorts.
One minute we're all watching TV, blissfully unaware of the scene that was about to unfold, me trying to figure out how I was going to go to bed at my parents house with my husband, because they'd surely be thinking we were going to do....well....you know... and the next second Studmuffin lets out a yelp, and curls up in the fetal position on the floor....
His face is a strange purple hue.
He is gasping for air...
Is he holding himself?
We were mystified....What on earth is WRONG with him?
Can you guess? Betcha can't.
It seems Buster was not happy with Studmuffin. He was mad at being left for 5 days. He was mad that this man had stolen my affection, and apparently he was angry that we had been doing....well....errr....doing....ummm.....HONEYMOON things. That's all I'm sayin' about that.
But I will say this. Buster took exception to this. He took such extreme offense to this, that he took action...
He BIT Studmuffin.
Bit him on the.....well, you know...
He BIT, and he TUGGED.
Really hard. (I must say...I'm not sure a gentle tug would have been ok)
Studmuffin never did forgive Buster for this slip in etiquette (you know the rule...don't circumsize the man that feeds you?) Studmuffin had already had this procedure done once before, and he was blissfully unaware of any pain..... But this time....
Well, let's just say that THE SECOND TIME REALLY HURT.
Wait a minute!!!!! That's not the end!!!
Well, it's the end of that story, but don'tcha want to know what happened to the rabbit?
Of course you do!
Well, he obviously didn't go to TX. He stayed with my parents for a few weeks, until they found a lovely family with 3 little ones, who would just love to have a pet rabbit.....
It seems this lovely family also had a dog....A dog who loved rabbits....
Poor Buster! Studmuffin, unfortunately, did not mourn Buster's passing. I think he felt he got his just rewards. *Don't tell him, but I think I heard him laughing when I was sobbing the whole tragic story onto his shoulder.* I'm sure he wasn't. I know much he loves me. He's my hero. My knight. My champion. I know he'd never laugh at my pain...............Would he?..........Of course not, I'm being silly..........I think.
Again, Dear Reader, a girl needs her fantasies, and I would appreciate if you would let me keep mine. Thank you.
Again, Studmuffin has read this post, and he approves this blog.