Niyas Place

Easter Special: How Not to Break a Rabbit's Heart.

We've all heard of a spouse following a spouse to the other side. How their life force finds a way to 'follow their heart' so to speak. A dog will mope for weeks upon losing it's person. A cat? Well, it depends upon the cat. But a rabbit? A rabbit's heart can break when their human goes on vacation for a month. When their heart breaks, death follows. This is something surprising and mysterious to many of us. How bonded a rabbit becomes to their human. Story after story confirms this from domestic rabbit owners I've come into contact with over the years. Rabbits are family oriented and extremely social. Given their prey disposition, once domesticated they are not likely to go out and find homage with another human or rabbit family. You're pretty much IT for that rabbit for life. This is how they are with each other as well.

It's Easter.

And its a time when many will fall in love with the little critters and take them home, only to release them in the woods or take them to the human society soon after.

So Mz Rabbit Ma Ma, Niya suggests these things to consider to avoid breaking a rabbit's heart (and your own). 

1. Don't adopt lightly. A domesticated rabbit can live up to 16 years (as opposed to 1 year in the wild). And this rabbit will BOND to you in a big way. And is just as much work as a cat or dog...and gives back just as much but in a very different way. Did you know rabbits pur? Often when they just see you coming towards them because they get so excited about having you around. 
2. If you're already a goner, in love, devoted, committed to having the rabbit for life: To make them happy they need your undivided attention for at least 15 minutes a day. My rabbits and I have all these silly games we play at the same time every day...and it looks really kooky but they do all these hops and kicks, and at times jump on your head or try to learn the art of kissing you on your head like you do theirs. They are super smart and copy you a lot. The more you put into them, the more humor you'll get, believe me.
3. Every night give them a little good night pet. They actually wait for this after awhile. They get lonely when you sleep so this is important. 
4. When you go on vacation make sure someone is with them doing all the things you do and talk to them from your phone through the bunny sitter. It works really well for depressed rabbits. Leave your Bunny Suicides book behind and think positively.  
5. Mostly just know they have they have these amazingly devoted hearts whether they look like it or not. I mean let's be honest Rabbits really do look at you like you are scum but they can't help the shape of their noses that imprint this judgmental look. They are actually just wanting to be safe, to not get eaten by a hawk and to have your undivided attention and devotion. And you'll be surprised how they give back and how their little personalities change and grow over time in a loving home. 

  
How Not to Break a Rabbit's Heart? Just treat them with the respect and care you would any being you love...like you would a great meal, or your dog, or your child. And know rabbits are all about family. So if you treat them as such you'll have an amazing addition(s) to your home. 

ps: They love to sleep on soft cotton things too. Not sure why people put them in those really uncomfortable small metal cages. 

• • •

DAKOTA: I'm not available for adoption by the way. So don't get any ideas!

ME: Dakota, I'm telling people to adopt other homeless bunnies and treat them really well. Some bunnies don't have homes like you and die of broken hearts. It's not always about you.

DAKOTA: Contemplative silence. 

Troubadour + Buddha

One day...a young rabbit found himself living in a hole by himself.

His sister, 10 seconds younger had nuzzled him to go above the hole to play with everyone but he wasn't in the mood. Besides he found the sun, flowers, bees, hay, mosquitoes and an occasional rattlesnake a lot to think about just one month into life. He would rather snuggle with the cool earth and wait for legitimate ideas and deeds. He was certain there was more to life than the dangers above the hole. So he kept house and sat in just the right place to have full choice of any of mother's milk.  

Days went by and neither mother nor siblings to keep him warm showed up. He became very scared, very hungry, very tired.

He tried to survive on imagination alone. Many bugs came into the rabbit hole to visit him. Some mistook him for dead and began to chew on his skin. This was insulting to him and he would scratch them off and then give them a good hard thump to warn them off. He imagined if bugs were bunnies what would they look like. The beetle would be a wicked black rabbit. Yes, of course! The ladybug had to be a red rabbit with spots and he knew no better at 5 weeks of age. He changed his attitude towards them, he flirted with them, he saw them as potential rabbit family, until one day a scorpion bit him. And he quickly grew very weak.

And so, his flirtatious recluse days were over. To survive he had to come out of the hole and hope the blue sky he had been staring at for days would help him, would heal him somehow.

He grabbed hold of the ground and pulled with all his might to drag all 2 lbs of himself up to the surface. Suddenly it seemed the earth was falling apart. A huge thunderous sound and shaking the earth. It was a tractor. And though it didn't roll over his hole, the earth couldn't stay glued together and buried him. He felt his life slipping from him. Through a space in the earth he saw the night sky--the vastness and nearness, the charm of the stars, they kept winking at him, they were laughing and talking. Oh, how he wanted his mother right now. Her gentle nuzzle, her protective sheath, the comfort of her eyes. How could she have left him forever?

He dozed off and on, buried like this, half alive.

His was a mind of lyrical imagination. And if he had grown up with his family, his personality would have been drastically different than the others. But he didn't know. He didn't know his mind had additional layers of smarts. He didn't know a love that could slow the fast beat of his heart was only minutes away. The night sky had held onto his life for him -- locked in ancient memory -- until she showed up and dragged him out of that hole.

She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Long, soft ears, deep brown eyes, huge white feet, a longer than usual tail, and lots of warm beautiful fur, more than any rabbit in his lost family. She was dragging him now from the scruff of his neck. He didn't mind at all.

She pulled him into her home. Her cave of dirt, eucalyptus bark, oak leaves and soapstone. She gently laid him in the place where she normally sleeps. From the place that like a Buddha she spent her days watching the world from dawn to dusk. She pushed his body snug into her bed, and she began the hard work of healing.

She wasn't sure she could save him, but she would give it all she had. She had seen his family run over by the big machine and was surprised there was anyone left. She had to save him for all rabbits, yes. And for herself. She needed a friend. She needed a mate.

He dozed in and out of a blurry feeling. He was warmed by the site of her. His thoughts were wild, spurious things jumping about like bugs. The bugs. Ugh! he thought.

So much had happened, what could he make of it?

Did his mind create a pack selves, each aiming for life in a different way? What is life anyway? He wondered. But as she licked and cleaned every part of his dying body he decided he wanted it. He wanted life badly. He wouldn't have known what love was until he saw himself flopping about his own impediments next to her regal calm and beauty. Nor would he know what life could mean beyond his brothers and sisters and dear mother. He decided then and there he would learn how to be everything she could ever want. A troubadour for her in every way -- and a gracious continuance of life for the night sky's entertainment as their stories gathered in years.

Salad from a Rabbit's Point of View

• Imagine your version of Santa Claus delivering exactly what you want every morning no matter your mood or behavior.   
• Or you've attempted Mt. Everest you almost died, but your favorite person woke you up out of your ambition hypnotism, took you down the mountain and had a Hot Toddy waiting for you...can you imagine how good this would taste? 
• Better than that, what is your favorite desert and when does it taste the most excellent? 

When the green stuff comes in the morning, the rabbits...well, they resemble something like overweight, furry jumping beans fighting one another for where the vegies might land. They push each other out of the way to get there first. I have a minor blush of shame every time. I only gave up greens ingested in pills a few years back. I embraced it kicking and screaming. The 'art of the salad' ....'the health...of 'the salad'...it's everywhere.

Dakota poops on the salad these days. Its his way of saying: This delicacy is MINE. 

It doesn't bother Caila. She gently moves his little Cocoa Puffs aside and continues to eat. He watches her knowing he's no match for her when she's eating. He tries to manipulate her another way. He grooms her, he tries to seduce her, make her feel good, make her follow him away from the salad. Marriage politics between rabbits are not so different from ours. She knows his game. She gives him a thank you for the grooming lick on his head and gets back to her salad. Caila is all about grace and tenacity. He's a bit of love blubberhead around her when she outsmarts him.

I have tried to find the same health benefits in the foods I love as much as they love the salad. I got a little further with carob than chocolate chip cookies. No vegetable properties but close enough. Still, it didn't stick.

Right now, I'm about to cook some chicken and rice. And I have so much lettuce and greens in the refrigerator that I need to make a salad or else they will go to waste. So there you have it...rabbits can have a good influence on your health.

---------------------------

Dakota brags all the time about his healthy coat and thinks humans have weird rubbery like coats. He thinks if salad would fix that problem, well then...

Ode to the Animal Artists

I envy the animals.

• They don't have to wear clothes.
• They can be emotional without fearing police brutality or being swallowed up by hollywood. In some people's view, both are equally scary.
• They aren't weighted by the tenuous lines that language produces.
• And they get to be intoxicated in life without the hangover. 

Artists have endevored to express that timeless irreverence animals so charmingly exhibit. The gap between what we see and what we know is something an artist can chase their whole life and not close. But when it comes to the art of animals, its a gentler more forgiving pursuit. We are rewarded by the softness in the animal's eyes, the simple confusion of brutality when it comes their way and their joy of smell. 

Dakota's whole body shivers in happiness when the morning greens come. I've never seen anyone so excited about a salad. He wags his tail and eats as fast as possible; a competition between he and his wife Caila. And then a few jumps and twists; playtime. 

Humans aren't a complete disaster compared to this purity. The bunnies likely would have been eaten by an eagle or hawk a few years back if I didn't have those nifty cognitive abilities to provide shelter, food and blueberry yogurt treats. On schedule to boot!

I need to make mention of some of the greats when it comes to honoring the furry one's amongst us.

Paul Auster: Timbuktu. A man's life and the world from a dog's point of view. This is hard to do, I've tried it!

Mark Doty: Dog Years. I'm reading this now and can't put it down. Not even for a potty break.

Henry David Thoreau: Walden. All wildlife in repose of humanity; of nature.

Sharon Stiteler: Disapproving Rabbits. Exactly how it sounds.

Andy Riley: Bunny Suicides. Hilarious! Don't try this at home.

Franz Marc: Paintings.  Fabulous expressionistic portraits of what is gentle in animals.

Tim Fitzharris: Wildlife Photographer. Check out the baby wolves and bobcats.

Pablo Picasso:  Drawings. The dog is one of my very favorites.

Albrecht Durer: Painting. Wabbit!

Marion Rose:  Canadian Painter Look for the Buffalo. Stunning color!

Tony Stromberg: Spirit Horses book, calendar. And his workshops in horse photography look really wonderful.

• • •

Dakota says I can't add myself on this list unless I paint a picture of him first. 

He runs the household, so you'll have to take it up with him. ; )

Lord, Let Me Be Half the Person My Rabbit Thinks I Am!

Rabbits have no concept of their bigotry. You are either part of their clan or you aren’t. They test you. When you get down on the floor and do the things they do (especially Dakota) eating or grunting at his rear-end (I don't recommend this one) or pushing the ball around…well, you’ve somehow earned the merits of clan member. 

Translated, this means he thinks he's me-- A giant rabbit, but with weird spots on my face, no ears, and lacking in some of the superior qualities most rabbits have, like fur. He doesn’t care. He likes the size factor. Caila has other methods. More… err…uh-female methods. She comes bounding up for snacks and decides day-to-day or sometimes hour-to-hour what she will and won’t eat. Berries have recently gone out of style for her. Now it’s Hawaiian flavors or the rear end view. And she waits to see if I’ll cave. 

I always do. 

Lately, I’ve been re-entering the painful and humiliating art of yoga. Caila does downward dog (err, rabbit) better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Lately, when I take a break from work, I go into the rabbit cave (translates to room in the house), and I practice my own downward dog. This gets her going. She runs under me and reaches up and touches her nose to mine and then runs to the litter box and keeps her eye on me. Either I’ve entered a competition with her or I’ve conducted a ritual of the tribe. By mimicking her, I comprehend her values, understand her with her best trick. Or, I’m just a big lug taking up space in the cave. By appealing to their narcissism, not my own (do you think I feel smart or sexy crawling around on the floor with 5 lb mammals?) I earn my place in the rabbit hovel. I am allowed to be obeyed. 

I am big bunny. When I say don’t chew, they stop. When I say, eat your lettuce its good for you, they do. Or when I manage their poop targets to the litter box by showing them where it goes, the next day is better. Here’s the problem. Although, there are many things Dakota and I agree on; like, strong legs will pretty much solve any problem in life. And, you can never have too much attention from the opposite sex, there are still things that don’t work. 

Like, when I don’t join him at the breakfast bar (translates to bamboo mat where their hay, parsley, spinach, and other rabbit delicacies go in the a.m.) -- he now waits all morning. If by around 10 a.m., I haven’t joined them he finally gives in. What he does she does after him. So, both finally eat. They wait, and then they eat. Was it always this way? No. I’m the fool who has proven that I can be as much rabbit as anyone. I did it to get them to obey me. Using human methods on animals that are by nature genius's at making family is not intelligent. I passed their tests and now I am a traitor by not living with them day in and day out in their rabbit cave. I warn you. Don’t try these methods at home unless you plan to go all the way. Before they were just rabbits.

Yes, special rabbits I’ve hauled across the country a couple times who have the toughness to live outside and inside—But rabbits. Cute little fuzzy things that wag their tails and hop for joy when love comes their way. Tubby little rabbits I’ve had to put on diets a couple times. And moody too! But, generally, you know… just rabbits. (Well okay, very, very special rabbits!) Now, guess what? They think I’m a rabbit. I wish they were human. When they hear birds they look at me like, ‘well are you going to shoot it?” Rabbits fear birds. When I come home from travel I’ve broken their hearts. They mope for days. When I don’t sleep with them, they stomp and chew on cardboard more and more. 

This has gone too far! 

Pretty soon they will no longer remember their original place in nature; that of a prey animal. If anything they prey on me—At least psychologically. Sonoma gets prettier and prettier by the day. I have built an outdoor hutch for them. When I put them in it do you think they enjoy it when I’m not there? No. Dakota says, ‘yeah we’ve let you into our clan. But I’m still the boss, and you need to commit one-way or the other!’ He drives a hard bargain. He’s the stubborn, constipated type. You probably guessed. 

So that's my ramble for the day. Do I really want to be half the rabbit thinks I am? No. But half the human? YOU BET!

Arranged Marriage

Let's talk marriage!

QUESTIONS:
If you don't marry your best friend, can she/he become your best friend?
If you marry your best friend, will he/she become less than that?

If I take the question of best friend out of the question, have I become an American? Is there no hope for me?

WHAT THE RABBITS HAVE TAUGHT ME.
--That's Caila up there in the image by way. What a little priestess, eh?--

When I adopted Dakota, he came with a chubby brother. The cutest, chubbiest, most docile, sweetest, slow moving rabbit you've ever seen.
One day I came home from work to find chubby nearly dead. Dakota, apparently, to show who would be alpha, tried to castrate his brother. Oh, the religious possibilities here! As it turns out Burns Feed store forgot to tell me that unaltered males do this at around four months old.

After chubby recovered, I sadly gave him up to a sweet little Japanese girl and her family. I was now in charge of taming ABEL, who, once he won my heart became Dakota (in Lakota Sioux, this means friend').
I decided Dakota and I were stuck with each other for at least a year until I taught him some manners. He was a bossy little shit! He called me out regularly to fight. I have the scars to prove it.

HOW DOES ONE FIND SUCH A BOY A GIRL?

We went out every weekend and literally interviewed girl rabbits to be his mate.
It didn't matter if she was ten pounds to his measly four pounds. If they didn't take to him right away he tried to kick their ass!

FINALLY.

We went to a breeder of Sable Tipped Lops. Little Caila came bounding out. All feet and curiosity. She was eight weeks old. Her feet were longer than her body. He came at her. He lunged. He tried to bully. She hopped sideways over his body and looked at him like, "what the heck do you think you're doing?" This confused Dakota quite a bit.

The next thing that happened was a sort of miracle. He put his head under her stomach. Why? Did he think she would protect him from himself?

HE WAS SMITTEN. That was it.

Now he follows her around like she's his security blanket. He gives her hours of grooming. He sits up next to her while she sleeps to keep guard and protect her. And, yep he lunges at her when I walk into the room, because, well, as far he's concerned this is Utah or India and he has a couple of wives who adore him. But she and I know who's really boss. And IT AIN'T HIM.

So this is an arranged marriage that worked amazingly well. He pulls his crap and she doesn't move. She still holds that look in her eye "What are you doing? Is this necessary? And he gets embarrassed and immediately gets busy cleaning his feet to look busy.

ON MARRIAGE AGAIN--BUT WITH PEOPLE

So back to the question about marrying your best friend. Well, all the magazines say this is unrealistic. You marry a partner; you do the things you do. You plant peas; you make pasta and drink red wine together. You fight over the thread count of the sheets or parenting philosophies. But according to the current party line on marriage, the expectation of friendship is, well, passé, silly, old fashion.

On the other hand, if he's my best friend there's a less likely chance of my trying castrate him. And, if he adapts creatively to my strength of character, why wouldn't I give this marriage all the affection and devotion I would give a best friend? :)

• • •
Dakota also agrees that marriage and strong friendship go together. He says respect has a lot to do with it. He also hates talking in these mushy ways. So I'll give it a break now.
• • •

ALTHOUGH HE LOOKS PRETTY MUSHY TO ME IN THIS PHOTO.

Territory | Dispatches from a screaming squirrel

Leonard Shlain claims that we didn't need language until farmers began to fight for territory.

I think those farmers must have sounded like the angry Ma Ma squirrel telling me off in gutteral sounds that sort of sounded like ("If you do that, I'm goinna hurt ya--real bad."), as I approached the tree with a saw. You'd think I was stealing one of her babies the way she was cackling and yelling at me at the top of her little squirrel lungs. I was standing on a bar stool because to buy a big ladder disrupts my ID as a woman. (I know, I know...but everyone has their little things that outline them, eh?).

Anyway, I'm no good at this sort of thing. But the 75 mile per hour record winds the night before that had me whimpering in the closet near the bunny room, had torn down many good branches from the native trees in my backyard. When I came out the next morning, yard looked like a scene in 'What Dreams May Come' where the tree in the painting was crying, melting and all but becoming a river of sadness.

I had to cut down some of the large branches that sagged into the hot tub and yard. As I did so, the squirrel family I have been observing and I thought befriending for many months went nuts. No pun intended.
Ma Ma squirrel ran back and forth, yelling at me. At one point she gathered all her kids as I sawed away. I looked up and 2 feet above me was her angry face and right behind her-- the squirrel mafia. A very mean and focused looking bunch.

"Listen" I said firmly, I feed you Macademia nuts from Whole Foods. When you tore up the deck furniture, what did I do? I forfeited the cushions to your winter baby fest. I feed you, I donate bedding, I even give you water at times. You can go without one or two branch, its going to die anyway." She just keep staring at me, meanly. She was going to jump me I could feel it.

I thought about the news. The squirrel in Denver with the plague. "Excuse me" I said to her. I went into the garage and put on my welding goggles and long gloves. She was still there when I came back. For her this was war.

"Look, this is going to happen whether you like it or not." I looked around to see if any of the neighbors saw me on my bar stool in sequin, green thongs (vs. the usual Crocs), wearing my robe still and talking to...well, it would seem to them like...talking to myself to them, I'm sure.

I cut it down.
I put out some cashews and almonds for them--a little extra for their stress and felt no guilt.

I mean, really! Does Dakota know that not all boy bunnies have their own room or a girlfriend he really didn't have to work that hard for? Does this Ma Ma squirrel know that I make mothering easier for her by providing bedding and nuts so that her little ones (and I've seen this in action) aren't constantly pulling on her dried up motherhood? No.
Dakota still chases Caila away when I walk into the room because he wants to own both of us. Not content with just one. And Ma Ma squirrel still wants every branch in that damn tree because this is her queen-dom. And she still yells at me when I don't put the nuts in the right place -- this is new behavior, but what's next?

Luckily I have my own territory to escape to from all animal demands.
My converted garage into art studio and dance floor. AHHHHH...what a joy. i-Tunes, chinese lanterns, even an old, comfy couch and warming weather that makes the temperatures perfect. But the escape wouldn't feel as good if I didn't have screaming squirrels, plants that need daily attention and a rabbit that thinks he's my husband.

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On Romance and Rabbits

The love life of my rabbits is enviable.

Let’s start with hierarchy. Dakota is 4 and 2/3 lbs. Without telling you how much I weigh, you can probably guess I’m larger than he is. His girlfriend, Caila weighs at least 2 lbs more than him. Dakota used to weigh only 4 lbs but living large in Colorado has made him put on some love handles. He rolls around in his morning hay like a Buddha or a blowfish on crack.

As far as he’s concerned he owns me and I’m being a good love slave, the minute I give his girl (who routinely sniffs my butt when I feed them; just to make sure she fully understands the full extent of the competition) a little attention he stops all his frolicking, jumps up high comes down and gives her a good growl. Since she’s a bit (well, very) codependent in the situation she gives me a hurt look—like my very existence is required but dangerous to their love-life (bunnies are all about dignity you know). She then dutifully hops over to him and starts licking his ears in apology for my bad behavior.

Things have changed.
I remember some years back my boyfriend giving me a book called ‘Codependent No More’ and sent me off to his therapist who smoked long stemmed cigarettes. She looked at me lazily like I was just another multi-colored mosquito, a radio tuned to static, a female who’d be better off in the Convent or begging for food on the streets vs. begging for love. “What about your cigarettes I’d say to her, aren’t they a dependency of sorts?” She’d take another drag and wait for me to pull a miracle out of butt and heal myself--become a dignified woman like her I suppose.

But do you think Caila needs a bunny therapist or better yet, that Dakota would even consider it? No way. This arrangement works brilliantly for them (well, him). He gets adored by both females. And he gets even more love from her when he gets jealous of my affections towards her.

You see, it all balances out. Caila loves to take long naps. Dakota won’t sleep when she sleeps. Instead he sits next to her, alert and watchful; the protective man. When she’s up and eating, he’ll take his rest. At night when the lights go out, he comes running to me, lays flat on his stomach for his nightly love. He makes cooing and purring sounds before I’ve even touched him. Lately he’s been teaching me how to clean him. He gets his head under my hand, licks it for a long time and then pushes his entire body under my hand.

And while she’s co’ with him, he’s co’ with me. He gets the sniffles when I do. And I’m starting to think he sleeps when I do. He doesn’t sleep in the day when normal rabbits sleep. He has his own kingdom of romance and he doesn’t skimp.

DAKOTA’S LOVE MANIFESTO

• If you don’t adore me, I’ll kick your ass.

• Size never matters. I’ll love you passionately even if you’re Ginormous like Niya and I know I’m a stud no matter my size. I’m not small, they are big. Love is love, period!

• Codependency in my partner is the rightful order of things if she’s not Alpha. I know most female rabbits are Alpha, but that was a mistake from the start. I’m correcting that.

• I eat first and get all the love and females I want but they’ll always have a home with me. I’ll watch over them and protect them no matter what faces us in life.

• If Niya takes us to the Vet I will not apologize for how I hide under Caila. Women are stronger in these cases, that’s just the way things are. Don’t judge me.

• I’m not a Male chauvinist pig, stupid! I’m a rabbit not a pig.

• I like to stand on my back legs and show Niya and Caila by belly and yawn it always brings the girls to their knees. I like that.

• Pet my nose and I’m all yours. I’ll do whatever you want.

• I’m not fat, I’m happy. I’m just a very happy rabbit who knows his priorities: women, food and a little hump here and there when I can get away with it.

I would give you my opinion about all this but Dakota hasn’t asked. And he has this way of freezing me out by putting his ear over his eye when I’m telling his stuff he doesn’t want to hear, so I’ll save it!

3,234 lbs of Unconditional Love!

I was watching one of those animal hero shows the other night. This one took place in Arizona.

Imagine this:
A small house. Two middle aged men--brothers. 49 dogs. 49 dogs inbred.

The dogs were all about the same size and weight, approximately 66 lbs. Most had the same illnesses due to the inbreeding.

The one man was very choked up when the animal rescue took them all to the animal hospital to take care of their health issues. He didn't know if he would ever see them again.
In the next scene the woman in charge of the situation had taken him aside and told him exactly what he needed to do to get some of them back. He had to clean his house.
Now, because the house was so stinky and messy from two men and 49 dogs living in it for several years this took several weeks.

As for the dogs, many had to be euthanized given their state of health. And many were restored and given to good homes.

But this is what got to me...
When the woman came back and inspected the house and it checked out, she returned 7 of the 49 dogs. She said it was clear that the dogs loved these men and the men loved the dogs. The man admitted that in his experience this is the only way to have so much unconditional love and it got out of control.

49 dogs x 66 lbs each is 3,234 lbs of out of control love and health risk.

So, this is my convaluted way of wishing you all thousands of lbs of unconditional love in 2007, (but maybe skip the inbreeding part).

Risk it all and have a fabulous year!

---
I did run this story by Dakota (of course)--he was smug about it all (of course)--His attitude was why stuff a house with 49 dogs when one rabbit will do?

Illustration Note: This illustration in portion of the this piece is the cover of the online dog portraiture site: www.dogzcafe.com

Dakota!

You've probably figured it out by now. Dakota the bunny--well, he's kind of an asshole. And, I say this with the most adoring glance his way as he glares at me for giving him a time-out. He was nipping and lunging at his other half again when I came around to give them stuff--carrots and stuff.

He doesn't realize that his characters defects are bad. He's just a bit of a sociopath (and I have experience with men of this nature). I couldn't get him to stop peeing on me when he was a baby. As far as he was concerned I was the most important territory in the world to claim. And now with Caila, his girl he's still claiming, but only when I come into their bunny house to attend to them.

It's like one of the business meetings I have with the executives where I work. When someone comes around that one of them wants to impress they subtly or not so subtly try to destroy the other in front of them. Dakota seems to be saying to Caila "She's mine!" But as soon as I turn my back he starts kissing on her. Not in apology but in a clear declaration "you're mine too".

He knows I'm crazy about him, can't live without him and makes no apologies for how he milks it!

Because for how tough, inconsiderate, selfish, possessive and bossy he can be, when I pick him up and hold him like a baby, he quickly assumes the position: feet straight up, head back, mouth slightly open in unabashed 'bliss' (and this is before I pet him). He expects it.

She on the other hand, legs up high and kicking, looks at me like: "What are you? a Lesbo?"

She's very independent. Except when it comes to him. Sometimes I have to speak very loudly to cut through the co-dependent air between them. It's kind of embarrassing as a female to watch her grovel at his feet and take his shit. She's even bigger than him. Maybe he has short man's complex.

I wonder what he'll do when I get a dog. I'll probably find him on his haunches, ears up, looking at all 70 lbs of the beast like he could be smoking a cigar, while stomping on the dog's head.

He's pretty good for a 5 lb narcissist though. He gives as good as he gets.