Part 2 here.
Mostly about rabbits this time. Everything I know about rabbits I learned from mullenkamp's nummy rabbit posts, never having owned one myself, so forgive any innacuracies. Oh, and Miss Climpson is a character in Dorothy Sayer's mystery novels.
Hi, readers! This is not Zohar! It's Antonio, because Zoe left herself logged in and went to bed! I warned her something like this might happen! ^_^ But did she listen? Noooooo. She didn't listen the time I warned her about the rabbits either. Admitedly that didn't happen, but it was a sheer MIRACLE that it didn't.
Did I mention I have a rabbit? His name is Killer, and he's a fawn French Angora. He's a poor wool producer - so far I've only collected enough fur to fill two large plastic tubs. Someday I shall think of what to do with it! I do know, in theory, how to knit, but I haven't a clue how to spin - I believe it involves special equipment which I simply WOULDN'T know what to do with once I'd used up all Killer's fur from last year! But I didn't get him to produce fur, I got him to be cute and cheerful and wrinkle his nose at me when I'm depressed, and he does that WONDERFULLY.
If you lot are wondering, he is not named after the Killer Rabbit from Holy Grail, he is named after Killer, the donkey from Calling on Dragons. He has a similar fondness for clover! I grow four-leaf clover in a window-box, see, because I need LOTS of luck. Only Killer eats quite a lot of it, so he must be the LUCKIEST rabbit alive! Not, of course, that I begrudge him the luck, I've had MORE than my share already.
Killer has a whiffle-ball! He likes to bat it around the floor of my bedroom and into innacessible corners, from which I am continually forced to retrieve it. I have contemplating teaching him tricks, but I rather DOUBT he would be willing to learn - although he is a QUITE intelligent rabbit, he has a certain indepedence of spirit!
I should make this entry relevant to Zoe, so I will tell you all about the time I took Killer to work with me! I once had a client, who as client so OFTEN do, insisted on a rush job at the LAST possible minute, and left me facing the MOST unsavory prospect of a pleasant Sunday evening spent at work. I was, alas, between boyfriends at the time, but Zohar was working the late shift as she so OFTEN does, and I determined therefore to keep her company! I took Killer along for moral support. He is, as I mentioned, quite independent, and I do not hesitate to leave him at home alone for as long as a day or two - but he ALSO appreciates the chance for an occasional change of scene.
There were quite a numbers of customers present that night. Apparently a famed local guitarist had planned to perform there that night! When I arrived, he was not there. An hour later, he was STILL not there, and thr crowd was growing restless. My eye fell upon Killer, curled up behind my laptop, bedecked proudly in his walking harness. An IDEA entered my head!
Alas, Zohar, who has a certain insight into my behavior after our LONG aquaintence, chose that moment to press a fresh, frothy cappucino into my hand, and murmur those words I have come to dread: "Whatever you're thinking, don't try it."
Of course, I protested! I argued that my schemes had so OFTEN worked out well in the past, that her distrust was deeply unwarranted, and that if she would but give me a CHANCE, I might yet save the evening, and correspondinly her tip jar, for if the customers LEFT, what chance would there be of her selling anything? By the time I finished my statement, my voice had risen considerably - not, I assure my readers, by intention - and the attention of the room had therefore focused on the two of us. It was a harrowing moment!
Zohar, who for all her faults knows when an argument is beyond redemption, threw her hands in the air and declared that whatever would ensue, she would see to it that I was charged for all damages.
Accordingly, I retrieved Killer from his perch (His ears perked up. He does that a lot; it seems to be a sign of interest) and headed for the stage. It's not much of a stage, really, more a sort of ... platform. When there's nobody doing interesting artistic things they fill it up with tables; it's sort of place. But on this night, it had already BEEN cleared in anticipation of the arrival of the guitarist! Accordingly I took my place upon it unencumbered, and produced Killer, to a PALPABLE silence from the audience.
I assured that that if the guitarist SHUOLD appear, I would relinquish my place. This appeared to reassure them! Accordingly, I introduced myself and Killer, and explained as much as I knew about angora rabbits, and then I made the offers which with I hoped to WIN the hearts of the audience: He would perform the one trick he know - jumping through a hoop! And then a few select audience members would be able to PET him! I dared not make the offer to more than a few, for Killer, for all his good qualities, does not take well to strangers, and I did not wish our excursion to be unduly STRESSFUL for him.
This offer recieved an EXCELLENT reception, with the result that it was quickly discovered I did not in fact have a hoop on me at the moment! This cast something of a damper on the festivites, unil Zoe, who had abandoned her counter briefly to join the audience, suggested that a certain large cake pan, which had been used as part of an unsucessful experiment in expanding the shop's offerings to bakery items, might with its base removed be most USEFUL in providing a suitable obstacle. She decamped to retrieve it, and I attempted to HOLD BACK the tide of dissatisfaction with the story of how I had come to adopt Killer!
When she returned, she had ALSO aquired some apple slices! These, she explained, were for Killer, as a treat for his performance. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness, and we set up the ring! It was all done on a table, with a few glasses in the middlle to rest the cake pan upon, and Zoe held the apples on one side, while I set Killer on the other. By this time the attention of the audience had become FIRMLY entrentched the performance! I believe if the guitarist had appeared at that moment he would have been forced to wait to reclaim the stage! However, he did NOT. (I should add for those readers who might WORRY, that it was eventually revealed his failure to appear resulted from a PRESSING need to take his son to the hospital, due to a sudden illness from which the lad I am glad to report made a full recovery once he aquired appropriate treatment - although for several hours, I gather his very SURVIVAL was in doubt.)
I whispered to Killer what a GOOD boy he was, and gave him a pat, and he lept through at once! Indeed, once having consumed the apple, he was perfectly willing to REPEAT the feat! I raised the cake pan to put him through his paces, and he had no difficulty at greater heights. The audience seemed quite intruiged by this performance!
Afterwards I allowed several people to pet him - I held him while they did, of course. By then the crowd was breaking up, and a number of people had JUST realized that their drinks were gone - poor Zohar was forced to resume her station behind the counter, while I answered questions on rabbits from the INTRUIGED populace. Several expressed a newfound desire for a rabbit of their very own.
It was then I remembered my RUSH JOB, and accordingly I escaped the mob of questions with as much grace as possible and attempted to resume my work. It was difficult, but I did manage to finish the job, and was even PRAISED for the excellent job I did, in the satsifactorily tangible form of a bonus and a gift basket. I gave some of the fruit to Killer and, well, abotu half the chocolate to Zohar, since the TRUE GLORY of the evening had been theirs!
(By the way, if any of my readers are in need of an excellent web designer who can do fast work, I would urge them to consider the humble author! I deisgned the layout for Zoe's blog here, if you need an IMMEDIATE example! Of course, she paid me in ice cream, and I am afraid that from those whom I have, alas, not known so long, I would expect cash.)
ETA: Antonio, you are so dead. Do you write like Miss Climpson on purpose? Because goddess knows you don't talk like that. Are you ever going to get your own blog, you deadbeat? Isn't it enough that you steal my soap all the time?
But you're right, Killer is the sweetest rabbit that ever lived.