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Rabbit Yoga

by nwadmin. Average Reading Time: almost 3 minutes.

I have this rabbit. He thinks he’s my boyfriend. He weighs 4 lbs.

When I had a male friend over last week, I tried to introduce the two of them. Dakota, the rabbit put his right ear over his eye.
My friend said, “I guess male bonding is out of the question.”

The other day I put my yoga mat out. As I leaned over to do downward dog, Dakota, just a few feet away on his green blanket hiked his little butt up in the air and stretched his little buff colored front paws forward as far as they would go in the same position. He looked at me out of the corner of eye as he gave a yawn.

“No, you’ve got to be joking.” I decided this didn’t happen, and then lay down for a spinal twist. He, flopped his body down, rolled side to side and stopped in the middle, ears flopped and splayed out, he gave me a good stare, like what have you got next. Bunny Yoga? No way. I wanted something normal so I called a friend. “My rabbit just joined me in a little yoga on the floor”.
My friend laughed like friends do when they pretend you didn’t really say anything.

The next morning I went to let him out of his cage. The minute he saw me, he did another downward dog and then scratched at the cage door to be let out to his pen for his morning activities. “Don’t you want a girlfriend your own size?” I said, with a slightly fearful plead in my voice. “She’ll be there always, you won’t have to wait like this. She’ll lick your nose and stare at you for hours. You’ll still be ‘Big Boss’ I promise. He put his ear over his right eye so he didn’t have to look at me while I made such a ridiculous suggestion. Rabbits are all about dignity and respect.

Well, and…territory.

The other day, he was freezing me out like I was the scum of the earth. So, I started playing with my hair, pretending to groom myself. In rabbit language, this means “lighten up.” And he did. He came running over to me. Lay down flat and looked at me like “Aren’t I the most handsome, macho, adorable man you’ve ever seen your life?” And I relented with an irresistible sigh.

Sometimes, I think–well, what about me? So, I lay on the ground. I sang him a Spanish song. He looked at me like I’d lost my mind and then chewed on my hair.

So I decided I’m getting him a girlfriend. I have a life to lead, work to do. I have relaxing to do. I HAVE FINDING MY OWN KIND TO DO. And, no offense to him but I like bigger guys.

But I must say, every weekend I plan to go to the SPCA for the new girlfriend, I somehow get side tracked. And I must confess, the other night I found myself on a date recently excusing myself early because I missed him. To be more honest than that, I felt a little guilty.

I have to do something! I really do before I start doing bunny yoga, wasting a good man’s time with me, or putting my hair over my eyes when I don’t like what you’re saying to me.

 

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  1. Simone says:

    Hey, maybe we oughta hook up your bunny with my p-, um, I mean, kitty. She’s always pushing my buttons by demanding attention at the least inopportune times (say, 4am).
    She’s a love hog too. CONSTANTLY needs attention, petting, stroking, talking to.
    And I DO mean the kitten (not me)!

  2. Ben says:

    The Reincarnation of Dave Matthews
    I saw a video today, oh boy, about Dave and his band. A music video. I could tell because they were singing in black and white.
    Alpha male Dave is black and white. He looks like his life is a stream of two timing girlfriends, half eaten sandwiches, two day drunks, and cars with bad transmissions. Yet he smiles on the video. I like Dave. I like his music; a blend of jazz, reggae, a little rock, and a lot of intelligent soul.
    Watching the video, it was immediately apparent to my trained eye that Dave in a past life was a typewriter. Maybe a Smith-Corona. You know the manual kind that required an effort and you were rewarded with the music of keys tapping the rhythum of your mind. Yeah Dave, a work ethic with a rock attitude.
    No matter. Telling the truth is black and white, and Dave fits in.
    That’s why he was reincarnated.

  3. Ben says:

    Whoa, wait a minute. That DMD thing was meant for another post. Christ computers! Then I make another post re; arranged marriage, and when I post that missive it disappears into the ether world where I find it on the Dali Lama site. What the frick. Okay, okay I’ll try to reconstruct this marriage thing that I have two go arrounds in this area, and feel a deranged pride of authorship about.
    Dakota……..I’m pissed off at you. Two reasons. One, you never wrote me a thank you note for the catered lunch we shared. I tried to bond with you, but your charms, and attention were for Ms X only. Fine. So you got me thinking….Ben, maybe you need some new moves ya know…sooo I come up with this idea using you, Dakota, as the model. If this fuzzy-footed manipulator can turn women into mush…HEY..why not. I rent this bunny suit, go down to the waterfront, lay on my back with my five legs upward, twitch my nose, make that low octave bunny purr, and wait for the women to come running. What I get is a local drunk stroking my tummy for spare change, and Portland’s finest arresting me for lewd conduct and impersonating a Japanese whore with bad taste in clothing. Dakota you are EVIL. But nooooo, Ms X, who you have completely scammed, and who’s fantasies are about YOU, will come running to your defense. Christ, now you’ve sucked Simone, the black angel out of a Kerouac novel into this madness. ARRANGED MARRIAGE? Are ya nuts? I most certainly am, because I’m writing this to a frickin rabbit. By the way, in the mid 1800’s, at a cafe in Paris called “The Lapine”,is where Russian workers hung out. When they became drunk, or because they were assholes, they’d yell out “bistro..bistro” which in russian means hurry. I digress.
    Run Simone..don’t look back..this lop-eared devil has got our friend and is looking for more. I, now a registered sex whatever, knows best

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