the day in pictures ( a roscoe the wonder bunny adventure)

actually, if a picture paints a thousand words, lets call this half a picture.  The morning was a strange one.  roughly 32 minutes after my eyes open, the scene before me registered somewhere in the catatonic recesses of my brain.  My dog was sitting on the coffee table, and slowly spinning in a circle, whilst looking over the edge with a smile of trepidation.  Yes, I said trepidation, and I know it usually doesn’t come with an accompanying smile.  Mollie only has one expression, and its “smile.”

I’m virtually certain what awakened me was the sound of her toenails, which need clipping, tapping out a rhythmic beat on the hardwood of the octagonal table.  Shortly after the visuals registered, I also heard the light thumping sound that a rabbits ass makes as it lands on a carpeted floor, repeating itself over and over in an almost dirgelike cadence.  I immediately checked to ensure none of my appendages were reachable, and then contemplated the situation.  I don’t own a gun, and strangling a sexually deviant bunny didn’t seem like a good way to start the day. Since bunnycide was out I was in a bit of a pickle.  I had just about decided to sacrifice my ankle so that mollie could escape when it occurred to me that if I stepped on the table, grabbed mollie, then leapt to the chair; I could quite possibly make the leap into the kitchen.

    The kitchen is our Mecca when Roscoe goes catting as it were.  He is not overly affectionate with the idea of walking on tile, and this predeliction to avoid slick surfaces has more than once saved the mooch and I from trauma’s far to terrible to ponder.  I checked to ensure all the blinds were drawn.  I sleep commando extremus, and scaring the neighbor lady wasn’t on the days agenda either.  I had to get to work, and the worlds most intolerable pets were already making me late.  Without taking time to consider the visual I performed the afrementioned semi-acrobatic maneuver.

   It didn’t work.  Well, it did, no one was injured, and whether the dog was traumatized by what must have seemed to be an attack by an  insane naked guy I have yet to learn.  Unfortunately Roscoe’s raging hormones overcame the deterrance value of the tile, and I and Mollie were forced to lock ourselves in the bathrooom while Roscoe grunted out in the hall.  I’m not sure why we locked the door.  Roscoe can’t reach.  Maybe to many horror movies.

    If I slept with shoes on this would have gone differently.  i have no problem with rabbit penis being humped against my shoe, but at 5:30 in the a.m. I don’t want it scootching on my bare foot.  Anyway, I leapt into the shower, and then did the hair, teeth, and shave thing.  Poor mollie looked like a drowned rat when I finally decided we either got out of the steambath or I was going to have to call in sick to work.

   My dilemma continued.  I was still dressed quite scantily in a friggin towel, and no others.   My brain, still functioning at its nocturnal rate of 1 thought every 8 hours tripped to an idea.  I edged the door open  and tossed the towel on f@#kface….er….Roscoe.  Sorry.  His nonsense is starting to get under my skin.  Shoving the door open I swaddled his grunting and kicking furry little ass in the towel, and hustled him out into his own personal purgatory.

finally locked away, i managed to feed mollie get dressed and make it to work on time.  The rest of the day was hot long and hard…sorta like Roscoe I reckon.  Anticlimatic as hell though.  When I arrived home Roscoe was sleeping, and Mollie was sitting on the coffee table. I think she likes it.  One more bad habit to live with.