Rabbit Habits (Part II)

The best thing about Harriet might be the way she lounges softly like a bag of warm rice across one's lap. I would have to argue, though, that it is even better to see the way she entertains herself, and us, in her more enthusiastic moments. The biggest crowd-pleaser up Harriet's sleeve might be the floating 180. She executes this maneuver from a full gallop, a gait which more closely resembles the action of Chester Cheetah than of Peter Rabbit. Springing a full 18 or 20 inches into the air, Harriet manages an aerial twist that ends in a flat-out run in the opposite direction. It's a particularly popular move during her morning garden turnout, where she uses the carpeted weedblock pathways as personal hurdling tracks. Our dog Paisley, who is often turned out with her as a hawk deflection measure, serves as a launching platform for her more complex acrobatic endeavors.

Harriet always amuses us with her free time antics—her gymnastic superman stretch, executed in midair during her liveliest leaps, and her hop-flop, with which she transitions, sproinging up and flopping down, crash between active play and sprawled repose. We all love her ghost walks, during which she covers her face with a clean cloth diaper and roams, blindly nudging, to the tune of my children's collective, spooky moans. We love the way she begs for her breakfast, flipping her heavy ceramic bowl up and over, up and over, up and over, ever backward in a thumping rhythm.

Unfortunately for all of us, but not least Harry herself, her liberty and gymnastic opportunities have been limited since the last in a series of destructive occurrences. Now, in addition to her daily garden turnout, Harriet makes do with supervised indoor freedom under the watchful eye of my middle daughter D. We like to call D, in this role, Patrol Officer Jones. Never, to my knowledge, has there been a cuter parolee than little Harriet.

. . . . to be continued . . . .

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

Continued . . .

The Scoop on Bird

Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok. I have ridden him...

Continued . . .

That Which Was Foretold Has Come To Pass

After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1) it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway. 3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud. 4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous.

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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