Sunday, 13 August 2017

Bunecdotes # 9 - The Escape Artist

 Rabbits may look sweet and innocent, but these little bundles of joy live for mischief. Some, like Gizmo, can be told off so you can get on with your day. Others, like Lola, will need to be physically moved from offending objects or places and even then it's a game for this happy binkying helicopter.

Just the other morning after I had finished the clean out of the run, Lola, as usual, was having breakfast inside that run. One of the reasons she has breakfast inside, apart from the obvious of eating all of Gizmo's food, is that Lola is the metaphorical cat. The one that got killed because of curiosity.

You need to lean over the barrier to awkwardly vent the heaters? Lola will be there to catch whatever air or water might escape.
You've misplaced some item deep in the bowels of the under bunny run storage box? Lola will flatten herself on the floor next to you and help you look.
You're labouring on keeping the rabbit's home clean? Lola will tell you when you missed a spot - preferably from the vantage point of your shoulder.
A guy in skateboards mistaking the building's driveway for a half-pipe? Fear not, Lola is there to watch his every move.

The other thing that needs to be kept in mind is that Lola, for all her cleverness, is stupid. Should I accidentally brush against the run door while said door is open, causing it to close a bit further, i.e. lean against the run wall rather than present an obvious escape route, Lola is incapable of nudging that door back open. She doesn't even try. Instead she stares me down until I notice the error of my ways and rectify my mistake and open the door for her properly. 
On second thought, maybe Lola is more than just a metaphorical cat.
Gizmo, on the other hand, is an escape artist beyond compare. He fits into holes he should not fit in - he once crawled through a fist-sized hole to hide in a cardboard box and then proceeded to move himself and the box along the living-room. To this day I regret not having upgraded to a smart phone sooner.
He is also a little engineer, looking for and finding weaknesses in almost every structure. Naturally, a semi-closed door presents no problem to him - which is why I make a point of closing the door properly in the mornings, even if I don't lock it.

So, that particular morning as I head into the store room for some hay, Lola is having food in the run - free from distractions such as open living-room doors that lead into hallways and all manner of wondrous realms. Gizmo, sits on the rug in front of the run. I need not fear escape from him, after all, the floor is lava.

As I stretch in the darkness of my store room, with my head half hidden inside the 10 kg hay bag, something warm and fuzzy pushes itself between my legs. My first thought was "Spider!" and I nearly kicked the fuzz away and ran for my life. 
My second was: "Gizmo?"  Immediately followed by "He's gaining confidence!" and a sound that I will deny ever making. 
I look down to my legs. Lola stretches back up with that typical: "Whatcha doing? Can I help?" expression that means this cat is about to consider the loss of another of her nine lives.

Of course, it was Lola. How could it not be? Only.... I had closed the run door. What I had not calculated was that on that particular morning, Gizmo was especially fast in the consumption of  his breakfast and, seeing Lola still munching on hers, took it upon himself to nudge the perhaps not quite so closed door open, present Lola with that opportunity of adventure, and gobble up her breakfast the moment she took off.

Priorities: Gizmo has them.

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