Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Newsflash: Angie enormous wimp, is terrorised by tiny bunny

Note: I wrote this post on the 22nd, so the weekend I'm referring to is the 16th of December.

OK, so on the weekend I was terrorised by a rabbit. Yeah, you heard me. In fact, the title of this post was going to be "I am such a pu$y", and then I thought about all the GooglePervert searches that might lead here, and recanted.

As you may know, MFC and I are pet-sitting my brother's rabbit for a bit while he's overseas with my parents. In fact, I got a text message from my brother just the other day about it. Glen asked me for an update, and I told him that Mao was fine, and being incredibly spoiled by MFC, but also that he was getting a little aggressive and would try to hump your leg or arm if he got too excited (after running around you in little circles). Glen said that he was going to get Mao fixed when he came back anyway, and that would probably fix the aggression. I felt sorry for the little bunny; he was just acting on instinct.

But, yes, Mao, who is becoming incredibly bold, and has the run of MFC's dining room in the evenings, has started peeing in the corner of the room, the carpeted room, and leaving pellets there as well.

MFC was very nice about it, although I was mortified. (Glen, see what your testosterone-filled bunny has done now? Good one, Glen.) Mind you, MFC was the one who STARTED the policy of letting the bunny have absolute, unsupervised freedom in the evenings in said dining area. So I should really be saying: On ya, MFC :) So, MFC put some papers down, and told me not to sweat it, he was going to hire the steam-cleaner from Coles anyway to do the bedrooms, and he'd do the dining room as well. Sometimes I worship this man. You try finding someone who knows their way around all the vacuum cleaner attachments and ALSO regularly steam-cleans the house, by himself.

So I started clearing away the pellets in the corner with a dustpan, and I was swapping the damp newspaper for some fresh stuff, when Mao came up to see what I'm doing. At first he was just getting in my way, stepping on the dustpan and sniffing everything energetically. And then he became more and more agitated, rearing up at the sheets of newspaper as I took them out, and folding his ears back. Then he started to make little charges at my feet, and after a few bluffs on my part to take charge, I ran squealing from the room like a little piggy. A very scared little piggy.

Hey, his claws are freakin' sharp, OK? And I don't like having things charge at me! (Even if they are at ankle-level.) Besides, it's not like I can defend myself because then I'd have to explain to Glen if rabbits go to heaven after they been kicked through a glass window.

I ran into the kitchen where MFC was making dinner, shrieking, "ARRRGH! I don't feel sorry for him anymore! When he goes back to Glen, his goolies are coming off and I won't be sorry! Snip-snip! Right off!" (Angie turns towards the dining room.) "You hear that, you little shit? They're coming OFF! OOOOOFFF!!!!"

"Don't say things like that," says MFC.

"Why?"

"Well, it might not be a very nice thing to say in front of other people who have goolies."

Fair enough.

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