Who'll crack first?

Ann and I are currently embroiled in a Mexican standoff over who's going to clean the cage of Gizmo, our bunny. This is serious stuff, really. For those of you who've never had the pleasure of owning a rabbit, let me elaborate. In many way, they're pretty convenient pets. They never need to be walked or to go outside at all, really. The only noises they make are happy grunts, occasional sneezing fits (cutest thing ever), and apparently a high-pitched screaming noise when they're terrified or dying... we've been fortunate enough never to hear that last one. When they poop it's in little pellets that they usually eat the first time around (more than once Ann has said "Hey, wasn't there a poop over... oh, GROSS!"), and then the second time around are dried-up little things that look exactly like Cocoa Puffs (a ringing endorsement, I'm sure) and, if you're not squeamish, can just be picked up and flicked in the garbage or at your wife as the situation requires. Easy, right?

BUT. With this simplicity comes one chore that no one wants to handle, and that is cleaning the cage. Rabbits are pretty good about getting toilet trained to pee only in their cage, but let me tell you, bunny urine is rank, and all the litter and newspapers in the world won't disguise that stench for long. It's also a pain to clean the cage, and neither Ann nor I likes doing it, so inevitably it becomes a game of who can outlast who before one of us breaks down and cleans it. My advantage is that, as a man, I have a much higher tolerance for foul odors and general filth in my living area; Ann's is that I'm a big softie and she knows if she asks the right way, I'll probably sigh mightily and then do it. But at the current moment we've left the cage dirty and smelling for longer than usual, locked in an unspoken contest of wills to see who'll crack first. It doesn't hurt Gizmo any, but the two of us can now barely sit on the couch to watch a half-hour TV show without passing out from the visible fumes of rabbit pee pervading the family room. It's not a pretty scene. Tuesday and Wednesday I had grad school classes and returned home each night convinced that, during the three hours when she was sitting home alone with nothing to do, she would have taken care of it. Her position seems to be that, hey asshole, I'm 8 months pregnant -- you do it. The question is, how long can this epic battle of stubborness continue before we both die of asphyxiation? Only time will tell...

On a related note, I'm just now realizing that I haven't posted any pictures of Gizmo yet. This is inexcusable, because even I, with my heart of stone, cannot help but admit that she is possibly the cutest animal ever, or at least cracking the top five. However, be not deceived, because the beast uses this overwhelming cuteness to mask the fact that she is Pure Evil. It's true. Anytime you get up to walk anywhere, she'll scamper exactly underfoot, forcing you to either accidentally kick her and hate yourself forever or to wrench your body violently sideways. At first you think this is cute, like "Aw, she just wants to be close to me!", but gradually you come to realize that she is in fact hoping you will fall and break your neck so that she can eat your eyelids. Another of her favorite activities is gnawing at the mesh baby gate that keeps her confined to the family room and away from the freeeedom! of the kitchen. She will do this incessantly until you finally look up from American Gladiators (shut up, you watch it too) and bark "Gizmo!", at which point she will jump two feet in the air, bolt away from the gate, and then fix you with a look of feigned nonchalance, mixed with just a hint of wounded indignation, as if to say "What? I wasn't anywhere near that baby gate, in fact I don't think I've ever even seen it before. Say, whose teeth marks are those?" And while she's doing this she will inch closer and closer to the gate, watching you the entire time, until you finally get bored and go back to watching TV. And .003 seconds later, she will start chewing again. Repeat ad infinitum.


You wound me, sir, with your accusations.

So there she is, in all her fuzzy glory. Just don't let the adorable floppy ears fool you; if that rabbit ever got the chance, she'd kill you and everyone you cared about. Or at least poop in your lap.


EDIT: As an addendum, I won the standoff. Ann read this post and thought it was funny, so as a reward she cleaned the cage. Score! Stay tuned for future entries about cleaning the gutters and taking out the garbage.