In the Epic Battle Between Bugs & Wicked, Bugs *Always* Wins. Harumph.

Da poor widdle bunny. He has had a weird and icky foot growth for some time now. I won't go into the details; just allow me to emphasize again the weird and icky parts of the disorder. I had taken him to the vet twice in previous months to have it looked at and removed. The vet, when asked what she thought--in her overly-priced professional opinion--it was, said, "Huh, I really don't know." And apparently she wasn't too interested in finding out. Thank you, vet person! Helpful!

All right, I'll grant you that maybe rabbits aren't the typical house pet brought in to veterinarians. Maybe they shouldn't know the entire range of possible disorders, and maybe they don't have to waste their time looking things up in their special veterinarian medical databases. I understand. But when the growth returned for the third time, I decided to take Bugs to a vet who had ample experience with wabbits. He took one look at it and gave an instant diagnosis. Then he took a closer look and revised his diagnosis. Either way, he felt confident that it could be completely removed, never to bother the bunny again.

Eureka!

So Mr. Buns got to get surgerized yesterday. Bunnies are typically fragile creatures. Extreme temperatures can send them into heart failure; being approached by larger animals can send them into heart failure; being chased around the room by children can send them into heart failure (me, too); going under anesthesia can send them into heart failure. So the procedure wasn't without risks, but the new! improved! vet felt that Bugs would do just fine. And Bugs is a tough old guy; he spent the first two years of his life in a hutch that offered little protection from heat or cold or the noses of curious dogs. So he learned to chill, as well as to develop a really annoying attitude of independence. He's cute and fluffy, so why won't he let me smother him with kisses??

So the strong-willed and hearty wabbit did just swell in his surgery and came home yesterday afternoon, chock full of painkillers. While the nice tech was giving me his post-care instructions, she mentioned that I should watch him to make sure he didn't chew out his sutures (bunnies are big on the chewing). I told her this was my biggest concern, and asked her what powers she thought I had to prevent this. She assured me that it likely would not be a problem, since he hadn't bothered them since his surgery. Oh, yes? I don't think she'd worked with bunnies much. Anyway, she went back to get him and was gone for a really long time. When she came back out, she wore a sheepish look and said, "While we were talking he chewed out four of his sutures, so we had to put some staples in." Mm-hm. She then advised getting some baby socks, cutting out the toe, and putting one on his stapled foot.

Which I did, because I am really, really good at following instructions. I bought these really adorable little infant sockies:

I cut out the toe, wrestled Bugs into temporary submission, and quick-like-lightning put that little sock on his foot. Look how cute:


Yeah, that puppy was off within a nanosecond of putting him into his pen:

Evidence

Bugs is so noncompliant.

I guess if he's going to be all bossy about it, then he's on his own regarding foot maintenance. He's hiding out right now, not wanting me to even set eyes on it. He forgets that he only thinks he can hide from me. I have access to his little hideout from above, ha ha! Of course, this does not negate the fact that, so far, he is totally winning.

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In other news, I came home from a recent trip to discover that somebody had peed on my new expensive yarn from Taos. My first thought was to blame Fiona. After all, look at her:

She lives in a state of unremorsefulness. Plus, she loves peeing where she's not supposed to. Unrepentant, that one.

But then I thought further. Fifi does have some litterbox avoidance issues, to be sure, but she usually limits her bad behavior to the carpet. She's completely apolitical about it, never using her pee to make a statement. So I don't think she would have chosen fancy wool as her voiding platform.

This one, on the other hand, has his own history:



He has great litter box habits, but sometimes cannot help using another container as his potty. He's a man, after all; they like peeing in weird places. So I've decided to pin this crime on him. I think he smelled that animal scent on the wool and could not help himself. He just wanted to be close to the sheep. He's a lover, not a fighter.

Knowing the culprit didn't make clean up any easier, though. Getting cat pee out of yarn sux. See, my yarn had been wound for me at the store and looked like this:


Pretty, eh? Well, guess what? It--two skeins--had to be completely unwound and treated, then rinsed and dried. Very. time. consuming. It's a good thing it's summer is all I can say, with lots of daylight and time available. Here's the yarn in its drying process:


Note: it's very annoying to work with wet wool yarn. Also note: it's very annoying to rewind yarn after it's been set out to dry. Lots and lots of tangles, no matter how careful you are. But they're all rewound into lovely balls now, ready for that project that I probably won't get to for years. And at least they don't smell like pee.