Monday, August 30, 2004


Late August, 2004

So there we were, eating Ethiopian food, when all of a sudden TinyTuna said....

Wait. Rewind.

Early August, 2004

So the entire family was out at BSTuna's House and petting zoo. I took my usual spot with a comb, a ziplock bag, a pee towel and the hairiest bunny I could find. It was a fabulous afternoon of combing, petting and plucking.

No. Set the way-back machine to

March, 2004

The day we found and subsequently adopted Fabio the Fahhhbulous French Angora Rabbit at the bunny show, BSTuna had also brought one of her bucks "Bumper" to have a date with a little girl bunny. We finally found the owner of the doe and decided it was a good time to play matchmaker. TinyTuna asked if she could come along.

Well, what was I supposed to say, No?

All of us set off for the parking lot. We got Bumper and then headed for the Love Shack. It wasn't exactly a 4-star hotel, but the Bumpster didn't mind. BSTuna opened the door for his mystery date and WOAH NELLIE! Bumper was Barry White, Don Juan and The Marquis de Sade all rolled into one. The female, however, was less than thrilled about the entire setup.

We watched the events for awhile, and then TinyTuna asked in a loud voice, "Why is he playing piggy-back?"

It was one of those film moments that would have included a slo-mo zoom to a horrified "Home Alone" face. Nobody said anything. I looked at TinyTuna. I looked at BSTuna. She turned and looked at the doe's owner. Who looked back at BSTuna, who looked at me.


I couldn't believe it. Here was BSTuna, a zoo docent who talks about all things animals ALL THE TIME. And the other woman was a farmer. Me? I'm Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies!!" Nobody helped. Nobody offered up any neat, succinct explanations, and here we were, about to go down a very long and confused path without benefit of breadcrumbs. I wanted to hurt every single one of them.

The trick in these situations is to provide an adequate and obviously truthful explanation without confusing the issue or providing WAY more information than they ever wanted to know. It's like that old "Where Did I Come From?" joke. I needed a bunny answer along the lines of "Philadelphia."

So, without benefit of any previous similar chats, I said, " know to make babies you need a boy and a girl, right?"

"Right," said TinyTuna.

"OK," I said. "So for Bumper to be a Daddy bunny, he, uh... needs to put his fluids in the female rabbit and...."

"And that's why they are playing piggyback?" TinyTuna asked.

"Well," I said, searching for an answer that combined the no-nonsense wisdom of Dr. Ruth, the sensitivity of Oprah, the gentleness of Mr. Rogers and the presentation of Iron Chef Sakai, "The female rabbit has to be laying in a certain way for the fluids to get inside and then...."

"Oh. I get it," said TinyTuna.

(Thank Goodness)

"Fluids??" BSTuna smirked.

"Shut up," I hissed. "It's close enough."

Unfortunately, when push came to shove (Ba-DUMP-bump!) the doe was just not feeling the love. While Bumper believed in equal opportunity for all orifices -- functioning or not -- she spent the entire time squirming, and running away. He was "Rubberband Man." She was "Hit the Road Jack." Net result? Zero babies.

Now. Fast Forward

Early August, 2004

Anytime the Tuna clan assembles at Casa del BSTuna, I tend to spend some time plucking the hairiest bunnies in the bunch. With six not-so-tiny babies, there were now 4 adults and 6 youngsters to choose from. First I went for the light caramel baby bunny that I have nicknamed "Farrah." Next up was the dark charcoal bun. They all started as enormous hopping furballs, but by the time I was through with them, they were nothing more than tiny dust bunnies. Plucking doesn't hurt them, and when I was finished, they were a great deal cooler. Of course, by the end of the day I was covered in angora fluff, but it was yummy. Tactile overload.

That night after we got home, I let TinyTuna off the hook and told her I'd do the evening bunny chores. She trudged off to bed and I went down to feed Fabio the Fahhbulous. While I was petting him, he started to make this bizarre grunting noise, and the next thing you know, well...he's being a horndog. I figured I was covered in bunny smells, so I took a long shower.

The next morning, same thing. The next night, same thing. Once TinyTuna saw the events and asked me what was going on. "I think he loves my arm," I said as I laughed.

Now. Back to the Beginning.

Late August, 2004

So there we were -- Me, TinyTuna, GramTuna and SticksTuna -- eating out on a Saturday night at an Ethiopian restaurant, listening to a fiddler and guitar player perform, "Sweet Home Alabama." Yes, it was a stretch, ethnically speaking. Now, SticksTuna is a woman of the cloth. A minister. A very cool, young, hip minister, but a minister, all the same. As the four of us were elbow deep in beans, lamb, rice and Ethiopian flat bread, SticksTuna asked TinyTuna how Fabio was doing.

"Oh, he's great!" Said TinyTuna enthusiastically. "The only problem is, he's in love with mom and he's always trying to put his fluid in her arm!!!"

SticksTuna's eyes got enormous, she snorted lima beans and then got up and walked out the door, closely followed by TinyTuna. GramTuna busted a gut, and I just started shaking my head and hiding my face in my hands. As the Saturday night entertainment made its way through another chorus of that Ethiopian classic, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", all I could hear was SticksTuna erupting into enormous bursts of laughter outside while TinyTuna kept asking, "What?? What???"

Somehow, the Rolling Stones made perfect sense.

You can’'t always get what you want

You can'’t always get what you want

You can’'t always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just might find

You just might find

You get what you need

---Rolling Stones


Kat said...

I am, very quietly so as not to arouse suspicion of my coworkers, laughing out loud. Actually, crying out loud.

Hammie said...


TinyTuna am funny bunny!

Anonymous said...

I, too, am crying out loud.


Tracie said...


That, my friend, is funny. No, that my friend, is the FUNNIEST!

Just wait til you tell this story to TinyTuna in oh, say 10-15 years.


mensch71 said...

*snort* The only love I got from Fabio was a nasty bite on my arm. Wascally wabbitt!