Saturday, 02 February 2008

  • Rabbit people

    We're not really rabbit people... yet.  You probably didn't know that there were rabbit people.

    I took my girls to a rabbit show in Stockton today.  That's where the rabbit people go.  They  load up their pedigreed bunnies and take them to be judged according to the Standards of Perfection.  There are people there selling rabbits, buying rabbits, selling cages, water bottles and digestive aids for rabbits.  There's a book on how to massage your rabbit.  There are women with rabbit tatoos on their necks.  In the parking lot, there's a big white van (not mine) with carrots painted along the sides and the names of  favorite breeds stenciled on the windows. 

    We also brought our pedigreed rabbits to the show, placing 4th and 7th.  George's hindquaters drop off too precipitously, and Una's head is just not broad enough.  Don't think you can compete with the big dogs, honey.  We bought a new buck and doe, hoping to breed the desired traits into our herd (yes, that's what rabbit people call your bunnies).  We also bought a 2-hole travel cage, but we skipped the book on rabbit masssage.

    See, we're not rabbit people, yet.

Comments (5)

  • lovelyLeone

    When I read rabbit people I thought of the Rabbit Town my siblings and I used to play. We lived under the patio furniture and in cardboard boxes on the back porch, thriving on carrots and cabbage. We had a post office, and I wanted to hold elections for town mayor so we could use parliamentary procedure, but nobody else had been in jr. toastmasters, so nobody else was just itching to try it. :)
  • MamaYoung

    Do we qualify as rabbit people??  As far as I know, we lay claim to the only "Bunny Buns Memorial Compost Pile" in the world.  Shouldn't that count for something?

    Our little black bunny, Bunny Buns, expired while we were at church one bleak Sunday morning.  He was a little stiff by the time we found him and we didn't have much room for a grave site......hence the post hole digger to prepare his grave.  Marshall stood by with shovel as the children, dressed in black,  stifled wails and sniffles (and giggles) and solemnly (sort of) marched across the yard to the site.  They felt it was their duty to at least pretend that they were mourning the loss.  Anyway, this rabbit was a bit of a pain in the neck so no real tears were shed.  However, when the compost heap had to go in the same corner as Bunny Buns' burial place, we decided that the least we could do was honor him with the name "The Bunny Buns Memorial Compost Pile"!

  • lemondrop_reverie

    This post made me laugh. I think I'd pick up the rabbit massage before I did the rabbit tatoo! How funny! Passions are interesting things. The world is more colorful because of them. It makes you think about how many different worlds of "people" - rabbit people, speech people, debate people, speech & debate people, homeschooling people, private school people, public school people, horse people, exchange student people, book people, music people, ocean people, mountain people - there are out there. I never would've guessed at the depth of the . . . (da da da duuuuummm) Rabbit People.
  • dichossuaves

    I don't know, I think you're HOOKED. Here's a treat for you, my rabbit loving friend.

    http://www.mayfieldiow.freewire.co.uk/watershp/watermain.htm
  • Momwhoknits

    Hi Anne,
    Your bunnies are being deprived of massages. oh well, there is always next time.
    See you in Santa Rosa for the speech tournament.
    Nellie

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