Early Rabbit Gets the Front Seat

*stretches mandible and stares into the rising day* Ahh the mornings like these are the ones I have missed during my past couple months under snow arrest. Now that I'm out of rehab, I can finally go back to living my bunnytastical way of living. I mean, check out that sky. Before car pollution goes to work smothering the whatchamosphere and the giant bugs go zipping through the afternoon skies (in search of fresh blood), it belongs to me. Even if it is just this one captured moment.

It makes me wonder what the future'll be like for this overhead panoramia. What sorts of maddening gadgetry will the humans create next to imprison the sky in a stell-infused cage? Teleporters which reach to the clouds and beyond to instantly zip-n-zoom their rears from Chicago to Mumbai? It'll sure make that morning bird work to get its worm when it must dodge a battlement of blodacious bars blugeoning the vapors of yonder.

I understand that "BIGGER IS BETTER," "Instantaneous is the wave of the Future," and that "Money makes the world go round," but how soon after the world is transformed into a Mega-opolis of Hedonism will that round world stretch out and disform? We'll have to become Planet Taffy and succomb to intergalactic travelers who enjoy a little Wonka in their lives. This world needs a panel of moderators, consisting of a gaggle of the planet's species. Oh, and the ability to fully understand one another.

So here I sit, staring at today's Big Blue, hoping tomorrow it won't become a Big Red (gum is horrible for a rabbit, it always winds up in our ears for some odd reason). The first arrival chirps in the distance, while the familiar rumble of a semi rushes past. Will these forces co-exist peacefully in the time to come? Your guess is as good as mine, and my guess is that Mike didn't appreciate waking up early to a set of eager fangs affixed to his unkempt hair.

Through the Bunny-Glass

I suppose I could spare a minute or two to tell you, my loyal readers, about the time I spent down under. And no, not the yay fun down under where I can toss a boomerang on the arbie and pet a koala named Dundee, but the brr brr stuck under several feet of snow down under. You know, the one I shouldn't have been in for the wellfare of my own life.

Anyways, how did I survive may you wonder? Well, I wasn't a very happy customer when the leaf pile turned out to be a trap. I bet it was set by Mike - I need to keep a closer eye on him [ed: Don't listen to Renny, the coldness went straight to his brain]. The echoes of his snickering chilled my fur as the earth crumbled below my paws, casting me into the bonecrunching oblivion of dirt.

A month passed, leaving me to nibble on passing bugs and spend my days repeating "99 Bottles of Carrot Juice on the Wall" ad infinitium. A nail-sized hole permitted the continuation of my primal breathing functions. I could hear the sounds of sleigh bells and tidings of merriment taunt me from above. That is around when the Great Frost began.

It started as a howling wind, blasting my fur with its fierce breath. Slowly, the snow crystals sept into the soil. I fervently tore at the groundm and was able to open my prison cell to a more luxurious burrow. In other words, I could lift my feet without touching the corroted sides of my terra cavern. I was even able to catch a stiffened worm and affix several ants, creating my own Charlie Brown tree.

The remainder of the winter months were spent nibbling on a millipede (who tasted more like a centipede, blech) and humming several 'N Sync songs (don't judge - you'd do the same if a family of neighboring crickets chirped Lady Gaga day and night, day and night...).

I went into a sort of hallucinagetic phase late February. All the snow turned to Jell-O ®, and I swear I was visited by a snowman who said his name was Bronto. I kept this part from the doctors here - didn't want them diving into my drug history. It was the '70s - what would you have done?

Anyways, March came around and the snow began to melt. At that point my fur was so heavy I started sinking into the muddy pit of not-god-at-all. My cute little black buttony eyes were being smothered by granules of much, and I figured I'd finally test that Mythbusters experiment of getting buried underground (sans steely woden protection). The skies opened up, and I heard the noise of my personal deity coming to deliver me to that great carrot in the sky - woof?

Apparently some dogs were nearby getting sloshed, and picked up on my desperate pleaing in the form of various obscenities. Unconscious at the time, I was taken here, and thus here I am, residing in this protective buble of shame. They said I should be able to get outta here soon, but until then I'll just make Mike transcribe as much as I can possibly squeeze in before my next temperate therapy session.

Yup, they're calling me now. So yeh, watch out for those leaf piles, and I hope I can roam more than three feet soon. Cheers!

Out of the Bunny Hole

"If only I had known that leaf pile was a portal to an arctic dimension, I would have eaten pumpkin pie instead," Renny the rabbit spoke from within his medical bubble.

Saturday, March 20, Renny was discovered trapped in a snowy prison near the suburbs of Siberia. A lengthy investigation into the incident found the hare had leapt into a pile of leaves approximately eight feet deep. The brisk weather caused the pile to cave in on Renny, trapping his weight within for nearly five months.

He was discovered by a team of French St. Bernards during their annual John E. Cooper Brandy Convention. "We deh not kneu what ze wabbit waz doing under ze sneu, but heez fangs were tres terrifyeeng," Francis, the alpha St. Bernard, bellowed.

Following the rescue was a two-week period of deep intensive therapy for Renny, in which he was reacclimated to proper temperature conditions. Dr. Mole, the lead physician on staff at Burrow General, believes that a few more weeks under the snow would have caused the rabbit's fur to clump into a spiky cluster of icicles, causing a sure porcupinal demise.

Renny is currently finishing his stay at Burrow General, and should be able to leave his medical bubble shortly. His owner and caretaker, Mike had no comment on the matter. Negligence charges have been considered, but have not currently been issued.