Way back on September 29th of this momentous year, I left for your reading pleasure a post called "What does it Mean Mrs. Bunny?". You may recall my excitement over witnessing the Marital Act between Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, then my subsequent jubilation over the fur pulling that Mrs. Bunny was engaging in. Such hopeful signs! Such an abundance of Nothing Happening After That! Is this how men feel when they wait for their wife to find out if she is pregnant or not? If so, I do not envy them.
Tonight, just about dusk, I looked out the back windows that overlook My Domain and what do you think I saw?
Now we enter in the next unknown phase of our Meat Rabbit Project. I must not become emotionally attached to future dinners. They may not be given cutsie poo names. They may not be brought surreptitiously into the house in pockets and played with on the carpet. Their names must be purely utilitarian: Lunch. Dinner. Roast. Stew. We must focus on the goal: Being independent in our meat supply.
Focus. Focus. Okay.