Rest In Peace, Beautiful Thug Bunny


I don’t even know how to start this post.

It’s a love story. Once upon a time I was looking at the local shelter’s website, and I found a picture of a black bunny with terrified eyes. The shelter had saddled him with the ridiculously unimaginative moniker “Shadow.” I told my best friend, the Angry Ginger, that I had found my bunny and we were going to get him. She called shotgun.


This bunny had lived with a family but they grew tired of him and gave him up. He was frightened, cranky, growly, and because of reasons, was classified as a rabbit of indeterminate gender unless the vet preformed exploratory surgery to determine sex.

No surgery necessary, we said. We didn’t care. He was ours and we loved him as-is. All of that was just crazy talk.


Sir Reginald Bunnington III, of the Cottontail Bunningtons, was simply called Thug Bunny because he was a tough guy from the streets, yo. He’d cut you without a second thought. He’d shank your mama.


He hated human contact. He had utter disdain for others. He was bunny box trained and lived, uncaged, in the living room. He never left that patch of carpet for any reason. He was always there, throwing gang signs, eating apples, and deigning to breathe the same air as those lesser humans. He ate our baseboards, our phone chargers, and our carpet.

I loved him with my whole soul.


Eventually he let us pet him. He’d sit by my feet, a warm bunny on a cold night, and he was just always there.  Now he won’t be there, and I don’t know what to do.

We love you, Thugs. My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.



Welcome to Miss Murder’s Family Farm

My house is where unwanted animals magically appear. And I love it, I truly do.

I stayed up until 2:00 last night trying to get some words done. And I wrote 4,300 of them, which delights me. What did not delight me as much was waking up three hours later because of the chickens.

Yes, we have chickens again. A dear friend had to give hers up, and we chicken-sat a dozen for a week before we ended up keeping four.


Morning, ladies!

We have Jessica Fletcher (my friend took her when we had the dog, and we’re delighted to have Her Prissiness back!), Pork Bowl, Brown Chicken Brown Cow, and the bantam, which isn’t pictured here. She’s called The Bantam Menace. She’s gone all day and only comes back to eat and roost. Moocher.


Jessica Fletcher looking unusually regal in the sunrise.

Why were the chickens upset? Because of this beauty.



He’s a stray that wandered into our yard, and then decided to visit every morning. He’s letting me pet him, feed him, and today I took the brush and brushed the yuck out of his fur.


He’s sweet, affectionate, and look at how beautiful he is! I’m so happy he comes by. My husband is deathly allergic to cats, so I left the brush outside. Then I threw my clothes in the incinerator (er, washing machine) and took a shower before kissing hubby goodbye.

Then it was time to feed the bunnies, because. Bunnies. Thug Bunny was rescued from a shelter. He was another unwanted animal. Bunniculas Cage, whom the girls call Yum Yums, was intended to be rabbit meat. We bought him from a local feed store and promised never to eat him.


Thug Bunny and Yum Yums deign to eat from their hooman’s hand just this once.

Now it’s time to be soundly ignored by Rush the turtle, who wants nothing to do with us. Ever. She was given up by her owner several years ago, and has been silently loathing and judging me ever since.


She’s inside this log, flipping me off with all four feet. Just so I get the picture.

I love my animals. They give me joy, although perhaps more joy if they slept in. But the early morning furry/feathery/leathery snuggles make for a happy day.

What do you have wandering around in your home and yards? I’d love to know!