Friday, April 10, 2009

Today is Good Friday. I can never remember if it's no red meat on Good Friday or no meat at all. I suspect its the latter since the Roman Catholic school I went to in Scotland served fish on Fridays.. and many years of laziness have led to fish one day a year. Either way, I make like a bunny on Good Friday. Uh, in the food department, anyway.

The bunnies (That'd be Scout and Sage) would like to remind the masses that bunnies are not a pet to get on a whim. I would remind the masses that no pet is; if I had masses reading my blog. I think my readership is about 50 between facebook and blogger. (For those of you who want to read on Blogger and subscribe to the rss feed, the url is )

Anyway - before you succumb to the "Awww, but its so cute!" Of sister, child or spouse, do your research on The short version is rabbits live an average of 10 years, need daily exercise and care, lots of attention and care. While they don't require shots or 'maintenance' vet care in North America (it's different in Europe and Australia) my bunnies still run me abour $500 a year in vet bills. And my little darlings are relatively healthy with a very very nice and reasonably priced vet.

I can't blame anyone for wanting to have living creatures in their lives. I know I had little purpose in mine until I had eight feet giving me (thumping) good reason to get out of bed. But you have to judge your level of responsibility, availability and enthusiasm. Fish, plants, cats, dogs, tigers.. choose your pet based on what you can give them. Personally, I think cats are less maintenance than plants, but that's probably because I spend most of my time burying plants. They don't have as many 'remind the human to take care of us!' options as animals.

Here in the Bunny Funny Farm, we're taking it easy. It's been sprinkling on and off, but its warm enough outside, so the window is open and I rigged up a ramp so Scout can get up and down the bed without help. She seems happy to sit meatloafed in the breeze from the window and smell what's going on. Though, how she's smelling anything around Sage's big butt as Sage presses her face to the screen is beyond me.

I was thinking of doing my taxes, but I think I'll clean litterboxes instead; seems much more pleasurable to me!

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