things that happen in my house- fried bunny aka Oryctolagus cuniculus electrocutus

well, almost.

as you may or may not know i have a bunny named Maggie Jo

many years of dwelling in a cramped Kingston apartment,witnessing late night debauchery, drinking red wine and appleton that has accidentally spilled into her water, and trying fruitlessly to chew her way out of her super deluxe cage have made her into a maladjusted little diva-b*tch, willing to take bites out of your leg to get your attention, and wordlessly telling you to chat to her furry little back while hopping away if you dare try to get her inside before she’s ready.

i love her endlessly.

But even little orhpan annie’s story had a happy ending, Maggie has relocated to a house with a yard and now lives freeee around the back with the one banana tree and all the grass she can munch (which does not stop her from nyamming off your toe in search of sweet potato but i digress)

*cue triumphant moving on up music* life with your granny is really better than with your cayliss mumma

granny have lawn and all dese tings, mumma have fren weh get drunk and try dance wid yu


as animal farms go there’s always a new mouth to feed, enter two …delightful… mongrel puppies who now share the yard with her royal highness (kate take lessons) the puppies haven’t quite grasped that they’re the size of small cows and maggie is the size of…well…a bunny

nor have they realised that while the cat thinks its a dog and acts as such, maggie acts like what she is <–only animal in my house that knows what it is

and therefore they cannot spar with her and flip her and fling her like they do the puss, who flip and fling and scratch dem back

she’s delicate and she’s lady for christ sake. hello!?

so of course before dem realise dat, dem terrorise di poor rabbit, scare her sh*tless, bruise har up, and now she lives mostly inside, a quivering little fur pile, unless of course there’s sweet potato in the offering, then she’s wolverine. OR unless she’s feeling frisky then she tries to take out their eyes

cut to yesterday, we wake up to find water all over the back porch, initial investigations seem to indicate some type of leakage has occurred so we dry up the place and make a mental note to call the plumber. simple summn, tings bruk down inna my yard regulah

a little later somebody points out that thet still hear running water.

further investigation reveals that

a) maggie has chewed through the hot water hose to the washing machine <–jaws of STEEL i tell yu

b) maggie has chewed through the 220volt power cord from the washing machine <–no she nuh dead yet, but wait it gets better

c) the exposed innards of the power cord are now in the water arcing and frying away and maggie is chillin in the water staving off the early morning heat


why do these things happen to me?

why di backside rabbit feel say electrical cord is a fun snack?

why she decide say behind the washing machine is an appropriate place fi live?

we have a whole wash room weh she can go par enuh


she nuh dead

somehow she mussi have self insulating blubber or come with grounds inna har fur

she hop weh from the whole ordeal and gone bout har business

she lives to terrorise another day

and we haffi a find rubber boots and a crawl pon wash tup fi go turn of this and that

lock off circuit breaker

and a have heart attack pon dis rabbit behalf.

i maintain

this could have been avoided if the rabbit had a strong father figure

but alas it’s too late, so i spend my evenings jumping over her and running away as she backs me into a corner and demands treats

i don’t see this happening in anybody else’s life

but if you can relate, call me, so i don’t feel so alone


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