At the Bunny House

Things at the bunny house are pretty much the same. Hay, then water, then food. Clean everything on Saturdays. Brush them if there's time. The one-eyed bunny got adopted. There's an albino lop named Olive who is such a princess. You just have to give her attention. Simba and Baby have actual names now that they've been spayed, something like Amory and another A name, though I still call them Simba and Baby by habit. The new litter has grown to twice their original size and they no longer look amphibious.

I no longer spill water absolutely everywhere, just almost everywhere. I developed a really bad allergy to the hay. No rabbit bit my hand. The mommy rabbit gnawed on my knee, which I don't understand at all. I've been using my body to keep them inside so they don't pull an Osage, which means the bottom layer bunnies have been chewing my pants (I probably have some frayed knees in my jeans now) and the top layer bunnies have gotten a little too cozy with me, if you catch my drift. I've seen some people more than once, but generally people have their set time and day of the week and job they do when they're there. It's all very impressive. As the sign by the door says, "Never underestimate the value of volunteers. Noah's ark was built by volunteers. The Titanic was built by professionals."