Born and Bred in the Briar Patch

Indy taking a lounge in her bunny tunnel

On the bunnies: Indy escaped.

Back up. Felix had come into his manhood and began getting busy with the neutered Indy, which did not make her too happy. Lots of grunting, chases around, upset bowls of food. So made an appointment with the vet and Felix is now [maybe no so] happily recovering from his surgery. Due to this, the Felix needs to be relocated to a different area with a towel for bedding so his wound doesn't get infected. A lot of good quality time with Felee. But this means Indy's stayed in her hutch all alone.

After coming back from work, I sauntered down to Indy's hutch to give her the good ol bowl of food and water and hug, to find that she wasn't there! Her hutch was cold, her food bowl was gone, AND the side hutch door was unlocked. At first I thought, the worst had happened: her food bowl was gone and so was the bunny! Robbed! Then, being the brilliant PhD student I am, realized I had taken it to the vet to make sure it was the correct size and the bunnies weren't overweight. Using Sherlock Holmes brilliant methods of deduction, figured someone had either a.) let the bunny out of the cage, b.) stolen the bunny, or c.) I had forgetten to lock it the night before. For a brief moment I thought of my mema, how everytime she went to count her chickens, was certain that someone had stolen one of them the previouis night. Taking genetic similiarities into consideration, thought the most likely option was that either I or some person or persons who remain unknown had let her out of her cage.

Well its dark at 4 these days, so at 6 it was pitch black. The light from the apartments were thin, but thanks to a fancy new app from my smartphone call "screen light" I had something nearly as good as a torch. I kept listening for the sounds of the rabbit scurrying in the garden, but there was nothing. Anytime she had escaped before, she had always loved to hide in the only briar patch in our yard. Making my way along the way, I wound my way to the briar patch and sure enough there she was.

Looking at her eyes peer up at me from the briar patch, I thought of Uncle Remus and Brar Rabbit, and how Brar Fox had tricked Brar Rabbit, and Brar Rabbit had hit the Tar Baby, and Brar Rabbit tricked Brar Fox into throwing him into the Briar Patch, and Brar Rabbit (or was it Indy?) yelling back, "Born and bred in the Briar Patch Brar Fox, born and bed in the briar patch!"

I laugh to myself in my unmeritted success in being able to raise a Southern rabbit in the midst of Scotland, and though that may reflect more on my abilities of deduction than the nature of a rabbit, I'll take it.