We had such a great time yesterday.
Then they got up early this morning and left me.
They do that sometimes. So far the longest was when they toured New York City. Washington, D.C. was a long day too. Mama always looks guilty as she’s giving me breakfast, snack, lunch, and dinner all in the morning, and telling me to not eat it all at once. I glare at her, unimpressed, knowing what this means: I will be locked up all day. Here are some snippets from today’s imprisonment:
7 a.m.: Mama tries to snuggle and I give her bunny butt. Is she crazy? Do I look snuggly right now? Here comes Little Girl. Sigh. She’s trying to smooth things over, and is asking me to not be mad at Mama. Sorry, but even for you I won’t let Mama off the hook that easily. I let Little Girl pet me though. Mama and Big Rabbit better not lose her. Little Girl is psyched to tour Key West, and is talking in her high-pitched, excited voice. She’s so cute. Have I mentioned they better not lose my Little Girl?
9 a.m.: It’s snack time. Naturally I ate that as soon as they left at 7:15 a.m. My body wants my spring salad mix now though. I do angry paws (sit on my haunches and angrily shake my front paws before aggressively washing my face), but no one is there to see it. I hop over to my box and munch some hay with narrowed eyes. Even the beautiful view from my window isn’t helping my mood right now.
Noon: It’s lunch time. I ate half of that around ten o’clock. I start to nibble the other half. It’s warm, not cold and crisp like I prefer. I do angry paws, and out of my frustration at no one being there to notice, foot stomp. Even though I’m the only one there to hear it, it still sounds satisfying, resounding in what was silence just a moment ago. Like a warning of doom.
4 p.m.: Well, at least with no one here it was totally quiet. I haven’t had a solid nap like that in ages. I start to smile as I stretch and yawn, then remember how annoyed and angry I am at my family for gallivanting off and leaving me here alone. My tummy growls, and I begrudgingly eat my dinner, even though it’s an hour before normal dinner time. The lettuce is warm and limp and darkens my mood. Now everything Mama gave me this morning is gone, except of course for my hay and water. At least she was smart enough to give me fresh, chilled water from the refrigerator before she left.
5 p.m.: I’m bored and angry. I’ve foot stomped so much my ankle is sore. My toy bunny got thrown around and shoved in my hidey-hole. I gnawed my hanging pinecone toy a few times, when I could catch it. That thing is nearly impossible to pin down to where you can actually bite it, because it swings around so much, which makes me angry. So I had a bit of a hissy fit and hit it back and forth with my front paws. My, that made a lot of noise, the pinecone clanging against the metal bars…I’ll have to remember that in the future. Perhaps in the middle of the night.
8 p.m.: I’ve had another long nap, but now it’s time for me to see Little Girl again. They need to bring her home. She’s usually in bed by now and I’m coming out for my last jaunt before being tucked in myself. They better be home soon.
9 p.m.: I’m getting tired and crankier. My tummy started growling twenty minutes ago. It’s my bedtime and it’s time for my feed. I haven’t had fresh food in over twelve hours and I miss Little Girl. I hop over to my box and “miss,” leaving Mama a hidden lake to clean up later. I smile with satisfaction.
9:25 p.m.: Where are they? They haven’t lost her, have they? They better not have lost Little Girl. I hate to admit it, but at this point my anger is wearing off and I just want everyone back where they belong. Especially Little Girl.
9:57 p.m.: I bolt upright from my loaf position, ears straining skyward: I heard a truck door. No, two, three! I think they’re home! I hear lots of shuffling and murmuring, then the camper lock clicks and the door opens! They’re home! There she is! My Little Girl! Wow, she looks tired. She’s holding a fuzzy blue thing, looks like a new stuffed animal. Ah, finally – Mama’s bringing me down and sounds repentant, as she should be. Let me out, let me out! Little Girl! Little Girl, Little Girl, Little Girl! I scurry away from Mama’s reaching hand and make my way over to Little Girl to inspect her. Thankfully, other than being exhausted, she looks just fine. She has a happy, sleepy glow about her. I take a deep breath, relaxing with the knowledge that everyone (especially Little Girl) are back where they should be. Mama’s whining at me to forgive her and has gotten a carrot out. Fresh food, and a carrot nonetheless! I resist the urge to leap into her lap and instead stare her down for a moment. She nearly crumbles, so I yank the first bite out of her hand and hop over to my towel to eat while giving her a scornful look. She comes closer, tripping over herself apologizing. Sigh. I’m tired enough at this point I relent and let her pet me. Of course this leads to her flopping down and snuggling up to me, but whatever. I get the rest of my carrot, and when Little Girl comes out of the bathroom I hop over to her to say goodnight. After Little Girl is tucked in I look pointedly at Mama and zoom into my condo, onto my perch, and sit waiting at my red bowl. Luckily, since she was groveling, she was actually paying attention and understands it is bedtime. Mama gives me my feed and kisses me about a hundred more times, then goes to clean my box. And finds the lake I left. Hehehe.