Oh, I must say I cringe every time I see pictures of Yofi's 'site'. He's been off his antibiotics for a couple of days now, and I am really hoping he remains healthy (crossing fingers and toes). The Boy had developed an ENORMOUS scab this last time, and it finally fell off...but I imagine it must have been driving him crazy while it was there. (I remember as a kid developing all sorts of scabs from my constant personal contact with concrete, and they itched like the dickens.) Anna, unfortunately, is back to not being allowed to be with Yofi unless under strict supervision as she was once again licking his chest and leg, but they do get some time together. On Saturday I went out shopping and when I got home, walked into the rabbit room to discover a huge mess that Yofi had done. He has run of the room for the most part, but Anna does have to be in a cage to keep them separated. Under that cage is a catch tray for all of her droppings...I put a layer of puppy pee pads on the bottom (left over from Izzy's-whizzy days), then a fine layer of Woody Pet over top of the pads. Well, it seems Yofi must have been attempting to see Anna and got frustrated when he couldn't figure out how to get to her...he had managed to yank the tray itself partway out of its resting spot (it's a heavy sucker too, if you're a rabbit) and then he went to work hauling the puppy pads out from the bottom, followed by generously spreading little bits of used Woody Pet
everywhere. I surmised that this was all triggered by his love for Anna because, as soon as I took her out of the cage she ran into Yof's cage, and he followed her like a fly to honey, then snuggled up against her as tight as a bunny can snuggle. Must say my heart went out to him, even while I was cursing under my breath as I cleaned up the mess.
Oh, and here's a story I wanted to share. Not bunny related, but it's kinda funny. This one is an Izzyism at its finest, I must say. It took place last evening just as I sat down to enjoy a bit of zombie tv (The Walking Dead: MUST SEE TV
), and even now as I think about what my weird dog did, I still chuckle a bit.
(Some other time when I get a moment, I might even relate the story of how my comforter was killed...)
A border collie's fear
Being a first-time border collie owner, I must say that I'm learning an awful lot about this unique breed...especially the fact that they can be so sensitive and, when young, fearful. When I first brought Izzy home last April, it didn't take me long to discover that he was afraid of just about everything. If it moved, he feared it. If it barked, he shied away. If it zoomed, karoomed or otherwise bazoomed, he shook in his little Izzy pants. If it even broke wind, he cowered and fled. (Okay, yeah...I've known a lot of dogs who have been fearful of their own gas-passing abilities, so that one's not quite unique to the border collie world. ) However, given time, patience and positive encouragement, the Izzster has managed to overcome just about all of his little-boy fears.
However....last evening I discovered that Izzy has a hidden fear that I didn't realize existed. One brought on, unfortunately, by a tussle that Izzy had with my elderly dog Kaya a few months ago.
I guess it was around 3-4 months ago...one evening I was relaxing in front of the tv and had a bag of Orville Reddenbacher's best at my side. I'm not a huge popcorn fan per se, but every so often will get a craving and will wind up tossing a bag in the microwave, to perhaps enjoy with a favourite movie. That evening I'd decided to do just this, and so was curled up on the sofa and eating some popcorn, both dogs salivating at my lap. So I did something that I rarely do any more....I caved, and tossed a few kernels their way. Everything was fine too; Kaya would snatch a kernel out of the air as I tossed it, while Izzy would make an effort to snag one or two - always falling short (the boy would definitely not be good at basketball). Movie on tv was good, and all was well.
Then it happened. I inadvertently tossed a morsel of popped corn on the floor without first checking to make sure no one was in anyone else's line of fire, and - not actually witnessing the next second or two, can only surmise - I think that both Kaya and Izzy dove for the popcorn at the same time. Within milliseconds a huge brouhaha erupted, teeth gnashing and bodies flailing...and then Kaya, albeit 15 and arthritic, got the best of Izzy. She literally pinned him to the floor, doing her best imitation of a canid pro wrestler whilst poor Izzy flailed below her, yelping in terror and calling "UNCLE, UNCLE!!!" as only a puppy can. This only went on for a few seconds before I managed to separate them, and after a quick (and heartpounding) inspection of both dogs discovered that no harm was done.
Or so I thought.
Fastforward to last evening. I had just settled in to watch a great episode of "The Walking Dead" on tv before heading off to bed, and decided that hey, a bag of popcorn might go nicely while watching zombies tear into the flesh of the still somewhat-living. So I reached again for ol' Orville, and after the mandatory 3-minute run through the microwave, brought the freshly-popped bag into the living room and sat down.
Both dogs were already in the room (probably wanting to secretly watch the zombies themselves, just in case of some post-apocalyptic event...they'd want to prepare themselves). Kaya was lazily stretched out on a giant pillow on the floor while Izzy sat quietly on the hardwood, busily chewing away at his latest destuffed stuffed animal. I turned on the television, selected the channel for AMC, and then stuck my hand into the bag to fish out a handful of popcorn.
The next few seconds were a bit of a blur. A giant black-and-white torpedo launched itself off the floor, springboarded off the sofa cushion next to me, and landed in smack dab on top of the back of the sofa, where it remained, a quivering, emotional wreck peering down at me from above. After a few seconds - once my brain was able to comprehend exactly what had just happened - I found my mind was racing, trying to figure out why my already nutty border collie had just gone even nuttier. I put down my snack and turned to face him.
"Izzy?" I asked, looking at him as he stared back with huge canine saucers for eyes, "What's the matter?" He didn't respond, of course, but did shoot me a "What the bloody hell do you think is the matter???" look. I approached him, speaking to him calmly and saying, "Oh Iz, it's okay" (still not completely knowing why he'd suddenly wanted to become a sofa throw), and I petted his head. He relaxed at this gesture, and his eyes softened somewhat.
"C'mon Iz, let's get down now", I said to him, gently guiding him off the back of the sofa and once again to the safety of the floor. He immediately transmogrified back into the Izzster, a waggly-tailed, wanna-play-BALL-all-day puppy. I smiled, tossed his destuffie a couple of times for him, and then settled back once again. I reached out, picked up the bag of popcorn that was still awaiting consumption, and put my hand in to take out a few morsels.
And that's when I came perilously close to wearing an Izzy-fez. The Boy shot straight off the floor, up over my shoulder and was clambering to try and get on top of my head. Paws were thrashing in every direction as he struggled to maintain a headlock on me. I, on the other hand, was now flailing my own paws about, trying to grab my fool dog and get him off of me while I still had hair left to complain about. He did finally release his death-grip on me, but then transferred it to the back of the sofa, where it seemed he decided to stay firmly planted for the rest of his natural days. Then - once I checked myself over for any scratches and bruises that the Izzinator might have adorned on me - it finally dawned on me. Izzy was terrified of the popcorn.
It seems that this little black and white charismatic, happy-go-lucky hound has now associated the sight and sound of a bag of popcorn being rustled with that of getting soundly whooped by a popcorn-lusting Kaya. The sight of one kernel of corn on the floor, or even the sound of a hand pulling a few bits of popcorn from the Reddenbacher bag, triggers a huge, 'ohnoshesgonnagetmeagain' fear in him. Now, I did finally manage to convince Izzy that a kernel of popcorn was not, in fact, going to spell his instant demise, but he still quivers at the sight of a bag pulled fresh from the microwave and sitting peacefully on the end table. So for the next while, I guess I'm going to have to switch my movie snacks. Maybe an apple. Or a pear. Or a banana. At least they're not too threatening.
Though truth be told, I'm not really all that sure about bananas.
