Ohhh!!!!  De-lurking to (((cuddle cuddle))) *kiss!*

(Does the bunny tolerate kisses?  Only one of my cats will.)

Define “tolerate.”

Is bunny sick? I note some **phlegm** or something on the carpet nearby… ????

Bunneh.

That’s one of the most tolerant and mellow expressions I’ve seen on Himself’s face - is that a blueberry on the carpet making him so indulgent?

Every time I see a picture of Thistle I think about how it must suck to walk around looking so cuddly and squeezable when one is, in fact, a dignified and worship-worthy being who should be plied with carrots from an appropriately respectful distance.

Come to think of it, this is a pretty good description of how I feel living in patriarchy, so maybe I’m just projecting.

Ha!

Thistle! Compadre! Viva la revolucion!

Oh crap.

I do NOT need you and Thistle strategizing with each other, Tmorph.

No, wait. I meant to say this:

Here you go, o august Theriomorph.

*backs away respectfully*

Too late.

We have already organized.

*takes carrots anyway*

BUNNY!

I love the expression on Thistle’s face.  it’s somewhere between “Mmm, this feels good” - “I’m not sure I like the petting but the worship is appropriate” - and “I’ll put up with this because you’re the dude with the food.”

I see a variation of it on the cat’s face not infrequently.

ears are down; he is not liking the camera.

he is one handsome bun, though.

When the Revolution comes and the bunnies take over the world, for your service you shall be allowed to live.

That’s actually his “you may now pet me” ear lowering. He was very intrigued by the camera, as you can see here:

Thistle has <strike>forced</strike> <u>asked ever so politely</u> me to point out that His rug is of a perfectly acceptable, if somewhat NeoVictorian, botanical design, as shown here:

Thistle has further <strike>tortured me until I agreed</strike> <u>requested that I take time from my busy schedule</u> to remind everyone just what it is rabbits generally do to things referred to as “Warrens,” and <strike>vows that he will summon forth an eternal rain of tribulation and volcanoes and bite us all in our most sensitive areas and smear our blood across his brow with a hearty guffaw of victory as he dances on our fallen, sundered bodies unless</strike> <u>suggests</u> we give his interior design preferences the proper respect.

Back away slowly, y’all.

I note that for this “suggestion” The Thistle didn’t even need the knifegun.

Yikes.

um…

so sorry..

Good bun bun!!

:::YIKES:::

:sravana takes off running, after one glance from teh eeeevil bun:

Warren, NOW I see it.

my 50ish eyes (well, 50 year old eyes) have problems with the laptop monitor, I suppose.

Did I hear someone volunteering to get me a new Powerbook? Did I? Did I?

no?

sigh. /me wants to switch. No Vista here!

That rabbit!  ‘E’s a killah!

Run away!

mr. thistle, sir—you are quite persuasive.  may i skritch you in the soft spot behind the ears, and offer an abundance of produce? 

cover of the rolling stone, you say?  um, yes sir, we will try.

Here’s a possible definition of “tolerate:”  “Permit to proceed without ripping open kisser’s neck with long sharp ferocious bunny teeth.”

silly charles—bunnies use the hind-claws to do serious damage.  teeth are for eating, and recreational alterations to phone cords.

Can you explain this to Thistle, please?

errr, sure.  let me find some heavy gloves first.  although, i’m pretty sure it is in the bunny code of ethics:  biting = love.  they are vegetarians, after all.

Love the bunny chat!

Lately I started a new job in a new city of our big conglomerate (Lower Mainland - BC, Canada) and the bunnies are highly populated there.

On my way to work I encounter cute bunnies chewing on grass by the parkade, etc. Can’t resist a wild creature so close, so I started talking softly to them, and they come right up. The latest is that I bring carrot pieces, etc. that they take right out of my hands.

I am so delighted. Enjoy your connection to the animal world, Chris!

Julie

Sweet baby.

Well, I’m almost a week late but here goes anyway…

When you’re chewing on life’s gristle
Don’t grumble, give a whistle
And Thistle thinks the veggies are the best…

I just tickles me the way “whistle” rhymes with “this’ll” in the real thing.

Odd that I think of this now.  I know we are approaching the one year mark for good ol’ Zeke’s passing, but it was one year ago last Saturday that we lost our bestest little guy (a cat), Ruben, to cancer at all of 7 1/2 years old.  We both had already mourned the fact that he couldn’t stay with us forever, but we both expected another 10 years with him.  I couldn’t even write in about it at the time, it was too much.  Anyway, I had trouble sleeping while he was sick and afterward, and one of the ways I could keep my mind from wandering on its compulsive ways was to sing a song to myself (half sing it to myself, silently, half just listen to it in my head).  There were 3 songs that I knew well enough (and thought of during the time) - 2 on Scratch Attack by Lee Perry, and the one quoted above by Monty Python. 

Yes, I was singing a song about death while my cat was dying.  It worked somehow.

These days when I have trouble sleeping (for reasons unrelated to any emotional trauma - it’s just not one of my strengths), I use Blackheart Man by Bunny Wailer - great song and great album.  He’s a real soul singer.  For instance, compare his version of Dreamland with the one by Marcia Griffiths.  She has wonderfully beautiful voice, but Bunny’s got the soul moves—like on one else in reggae.

Hey, what could be more accidentally right on than bringing up Bunny Wailer in a comment about Thistle the bunny?!