http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.jsSo I may have mentioned that I am pretty sure I am done manufacturing babies and for the most part I am cool with that. There are a few things I am wistful about never experiencing again, but today I got to experience one of those things in a whole new way.

Last October we went to a pumpkin farm for a pumpkin and came home with a bunny. Thumper. A quick check (before Thumper vehemently and violently declared her rage at being thusly violated,) kinda sorta confirmed that she was a girl. But with bunnies it is hard to tell, particularly when they are babies. Let me tell you, we never tried checking again, we were cool with her being a him and us not knowing about it.


Gradually Thumper the sweet albeit chewy bunny turned somewhat evil. She stopped peeing in the the designated spot for peeing, she started plotting to kill my husband, she lunged at anyone so audacious as to set foot on the mat that she has appropriated as her own (which is awkward since one must cross the mat to get to the phone which may explain all those times you may have heard “HelllloooooyeeeoooouchDangitTHUMPER” when we answered your call.) We decided that Thumper had PMS or that Thumper was a boy and wanted to do that which rabbits, especially boy rabbits are wont to do, and there was no one to do it with. Which made Thumper angry.
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Thumper doing her dog impersonation. She tends to do this while angrily watching TV. We keep her away from any CSI type shows (don’t want her getting any ideas)

This morning at 7:45 am Thumper was taken to be fixed. And we fervently hoped that the term “fixed” was all inclusive in this case. We wanted sweet albeit chewy Thumper back.
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We do actually own a vacuum, but wherever you find Thumper you will find debris surrounding her. Much as with a human toddler.

But back to the baby thing. Clearly, as of this morning we were still hazy on her gender identity. We were crossing our thumbs that she would be pronounced a “he” giving us a $30 savings in “fixing” costs. Gracie however was heart-broken that her “sister” (this poor bunny has a lot of pressure fulfilling all the roles of dog, bunny and sister), would be lost forever as yet another brother. I’m not sure which was more compelling, our daughter’s feelings or the savings. I’m just trying to be honest here ok.

ANYWAY back to the baby thing. So ever since this morning I have had a faint frisson of excitement every time I thought about getting the verdict this afternoon. It felt not unlike Ultrasound Day. As I parked the car and walked into the vet’s office I even felt faintly nauseated for a moment, and needed to pee. I felt as if I wanted my loved one by my side as the verdict was read.

The event in itself was hugely anti-climactic. I walked in and asked for the bunny. “Thumper?” the receptionist asked very formally. I affirmed this, trying not to giggle. I find people using animal names in formal situations hilarious. What if her name was Mrs. Poopsalot? (which it should be, by the way.) As I waited for the delivery of our freaked out furry friend, the receptionist saw to my bill. “Ah”, she chuckled happily, “it looks like we have a spay here”. Which means…
It’s
>>

>>>

>>>>

A
>>>>

>>>

>>>
GIRL!!

(After all)

See, I thought I’d never be able to share a moment like that with the internet ever again. Life is just full of sweet surprises.

Our girl is indeed traumatized. She was subjected to outside air (shudder) . It is very warm today (well relatively speaking) which was good, but also very windy (which was bad). She done fahreaked peeps. She has been home for a couple of hours now and she is still sitting in her box with her back to me, and only moving her head in a small irritated motion when I offer her a treat. Reminiscent of Gracie on a Sunday morning. (Our Gracie is not a Sunday morning person)

The vet told me that once the hormones left her body she should be better with the pee-ing and homocidal tendencies…….and see that right there-that’s why I am ok with not ever being pregnant again.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

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