… in one photo:
Now before ya’ll get all up in arms and start telling me I’m Horrible, please remember … I didn’t kill the bunny. In fact neither did Piper. Can you guess who dispatched the hare?
(*insert scary movie soundtrack here*)
WRONG!! It was not TWooie, or his nefarious brother Woo either.
That’s right, suckas! Lil Miss Spring Thing is the one who done the dirty deed. Don’t get in a tussle with my Jack Russell! She’s a natural born killer. All 19 lbs of her.
So where are all those “I want her, adopt her to me!” emails now?
She’s still cute and tiny! (and has learned a ‘sit-stay’)
How come you thought the worst of me?
We don’t believe in letting anything go to waste around here, so today’s Leporidic Lunch got divided amongst the canines. Woo got the party started, while his brother stood guard.
And then when I thought he’d eaten enough, I handed it off to TWoo and so on down the line until we got to Tweed, who was absolutely repulsed by the suggestion that he consume part of a gross bush bunny.
I am far too refined to eat that thing.
We’ve lived here just about 2 years and the dogs have eaten about half a dozen bunnies. Given the sheer numbers of rabbits racing around here, I’m kind of surprised the stats aren’t a bit higher. But it’s always a happy day for the dogs when they catch themselves an extra treat.
Speaking of eating things, I was recently gifted with four broiler chicks. Are you familiar with these chickens? They are the commercially raised chickens that you buy in your grocery store. They are disgusting and sad. At 6 weeks old, they are bigger than my regular full-grown hens and outweigh them by several lbs. They are like picking up bowling balls. Broiler chicks can’t live out normal lifespans because they are bred to be obesely plump foodstuffs and nothing else … and if they manage to live to be a few months old, they generally can no longer walk because they are too heavy for their own legs, and their sheer bulk smothers their internal organs. This is what the commercial chicken industry is all about :(
Six weeks old, and look at them!
They are also as dumb as rocks and if I don’t put the food right in front of them, they don’t eat because they can’t figure out how to heft themselves up and waddle across the house to get to the grain. But they are also bred to be obscenely greedy, so if you leave the food in front of them, they will just eat it until it’s gone, so they can’t live with the regular chickens.
Since I can’t raise ’em without subjecting them to a slow, painful death, I’m going to have to eat them. But the problem with eating them is that first I have to kill them, and this city girl don’t know nuthin’ about killin’ no chickens. TWooie had some ideas, but I didn’t think they were very humane at all.
Aww, come on! It’s the circle of life!
I feel like I should learn how to do it, and maybe if I’m going to be willing to eat it, I should first know how it died and / or be responsible for its death. This philosophy, however, leads to all kinds of conflicts for me. Like bacon would be a conflict, because I am for sure NOT getting pigs!!
Anyway, my landlord grew up on this farm and knows all about turning chickens into food, so I’m going to enlist his help. I won’t blog it, because I don’t want to traumatize anyone, but I will let you know how they taste! ;-)
Now chickens, chickens I will eat! Can I help taste test the chickens?
In other news, I’ve been hard at work keeping the plant life under control. It’s like a full time job just to ensure the dogs have a flat surface on which to play Dumbball – especially when you only have a push mower. I mowed down about half the lower pasture last week. Still haven’t found the expensive Kong ball that The Sadist lost in the grass either.
I’ve also been teaching Miss Thing a little bit of agility. Taught her the A-Frame in class the other week, and have since taught her the tunnel, and how to jump. Then I put the tunnel and jump together, and she can now do two obstacles in a row. Already sequencing, and I’ve only had her for 10 minutes or whatever! What a cutie.
And she’s not the only one learning some agility … TWooie can now jump, and do the tunnel, and he can even weave! Granted, it’s very slow and purely motivated by the cookie I have in my hand … but TWooie learned some stuff! It’s a freakin’ miracle!
YOU: Umm, Food Lady? What’s with the weird, bad, non sequitur photo?
ME: It’s TWooie, mid-spin to the right, on a hand signal. A behaviour! I taught TWooie a behaviour! Can you believe it??
And you know what else I bet you can’t believe? TWooie *likes* Spring. I don’t mean in the, like, “she tastes good, I’m going to rip out her femoral artery” way, but rather the other day TWooie and Spring played wrestle, chase-me, play-bow and zoomies with one another way, for about 10 straight minutes. I’m not even kidding a little bit. I didn’t have my camera with me, but I wish I did, because it was a sight I don’t think anyone would believe if they didn’t witness it themselves. I’m still a little convinced I dreamt it.
But then again, Spring has that way about her. Everyone falls in love with her. Her and Dex are BFF and have a game of bitey-face every morning on my bed.
She’s definitely got some jackitude, and her housebreaking seems to be deteriorating for some reason, so we’re working on that, and she still has some real impulse control issues. But she is learning too, and no longer tries to claw her way up my legs on every walk, and sometimes she doesn’t need to climb inside my pocket and set up camp there either. I even left her loose for a couple hours this morning when I went to Physio, and aside from peeing on the floor, she didn’t do my house any harm. So she’s coming along and will eventually make someone a very nice little agility partner. She’s a really super cute little girl.
I’M still a super cute little girl!!
And look at what that OTHER cute little girl did!!
And so that you are not all left with a bunny snuff film still burned into your brain when you leave the blog, here’s a photo of Dexter dancing on air :)