Winnie The Poo (and poo and …)

Since I’m about to be as shameless as a new mother on Facebook, let’s just get right to it.

This … is Winnie:

Now if you’re unable to “aww!” at that little face, you may be suffering from an MCI, or Mild Cuddle-Impairment. If so, please stop reading and go directly to the nearest hug.

I lost my mind three weeks ago and agreed to let the kids adopt a pet rabbit. Oh, I’ve ridden the “I’ve got allergies” bandwagon for years, a genuine condition that thankfully spared me not only the hassle of dog/cat maintenance but also the inevitable arguments around it. Why fight over rank litter boxes and overdue walkies when there are already filthy bedrooms and cheeky attitudes to conquer?

But as luck would have it, I discovered I’m not allergic to rabbits while visiting friends with one in June. Since my excuse had run as dry as my sinuses, I had no choice but to give in.

My biggest fear was that once the bunnymoon was over, the responsibility of caring for ol’ Winston would fall squarely on my shoulders. Yet here we are, three weeks in, and so far everyone’s still onboard to help out. Fingers crossed the spell continues.

Delia has taken on the role of “Mama”, referring to herself thusly. I, therefore, am “Grandma”, a moniker I find quite horrifying as my 50^th birthday approaches. Bodie has been named “Uncle Bobo”, and “Grandpa”? Well, again, horrifying.

Here’s a picture of Delia training her new baby (note the subtle maternal cues):

(I just don’t know where she gets it from!) Anyway, after a few gentle training sessions, it was clear Winnie knew exactly where his water dish was. Now to teach him what to do with it:

After a hard day as a hare, Winnie leaves his X-pen at night and heads up to Delia’s room where his cottontail-condo awaits. Bunny lodgings have come a long way since the days of shredded newspaper and cardboard boxes. Today’s upwardly mobile rabbit has a two-story penthouse complete with log enclosure and slide (concierge service was available with ours, but we declined).

Incase a midday nap is in order, Winnie also has a daybed in his X-pen … because that’s what rational people give to their pets:

(Sorry Barbie.)

Despite his poor waste management skills (evidence of which is e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e), Winnie is part of the family now. And if pictures are worth a thousand words, clearly I’m not the only one who feels that way: