In which The Bunny Maker succeeds at something - finally.

At the start of this year I announced to anyone who was listening (so that's just me and the bunnies) that I was going to teach myself to crochet.  I can knit.  I hate knitting.  I hate it because I can't do it properly.  I hated to crochet too, the one time I had tried and got all tangled and confuzzled.  So, 2011 was going to be the year I got on and did it because, quite honestly, I can just about most other things with my hands.  The first things I did were a little doggie and some Ninjas, just to warm up.  Then, finally, what I wanted to do all along ..... bunnies!!!!

 

He is purple with green inner ears, with lots of soft fuzz, plus a removable hat (because it might get hot).

Of course he now belongs to BunSon No.1 who has named him, with great originality, 'Bwunny'.

Anyone who knows anything about crochet would take one look and gasp at the terrible stitching and the fact that neither arms nor legs are the same size as each other.  But, for my third crochet attempt - i'm pretty happy.

We've just come back from a stonking week on the Isle of Wight.  The boys swam, caught crabs and built yet more stone piles.

It felt like summer and noone wanted to leave but we had to because the gorgeous Henry was arriving. 

He is a lovely, Mini Rex boy with THE softest coat in the entire world.  Nosy and Spike might be soft and fluffy but Henry feels like satin.

 

I bought them a new house, just in case they overheard me cooing over Henry's coat and felt sad.  Oh the excuses I can come up with!

In which The Bunny Maker questions herself

On reflection I have to wonder if this is really a very 'normal' thing to do.

It's just that Nosy and Spike's fluff is so soft that, when you feel it, you simply can't feel it.  It was BunSon 3 who first saved a little bit and, then I kinda carried on.  It seemed logical to put it into this little pot .. which I had already.  I'm stating that so you don't think I went off looking especially for a heart-shaped one.  That might be construed along the lines of people who set a place at the table for their cat, or carry a small dog in a handbag.  Maybe.

Anyone else do this?  What shall I do with it?

It's Flopped.

It's a day I thought I would never see, I hoped I would never see.  It is happening.  Nosy's ear is flopping.  Boooooooooooooooo.

I loved it like this ...

I am sad, he looks odd but least I can tell which is which!

The Bunny House is Finished!

It's done.  It cost twice as much as it was meant to and is twice as fabulous as I hoped.

Inside there are up bits and down bits, corners for hiding in and straw for drying off and being cosier in.  There is a chair for me and somewhere to put a nice cup of coffee.

The sleeping area in the Wendy house has a smaller hutch in it, now filled with straw and baskets for curling up in when it's very cold.  As the nights get chiller and colder I'll just keep adding deeper and deeper straw and hay for them.  Their favourite spot is up on the top there, so they can see out of the windows!

Something new arrived today too - to complete everything.

It took them about 2 minutes to notice it but then they spent a good twenty going in and out, in and out, in and out ... you get the idea.
My favourite bit is still 'the tunnel'.

I have now fulfilled my childhood dream of having one of those play houses, the ones with the ladder up to an upstairs and little windows.  I've always wanted one of them and tried desperately to argue for one for my own children.  My plan was too transparent though! Now can rearrange all the plants and boxes, sweep things and plant flowers around the door.  My fantasy has been fulfilled.  In life, that is a good thing.
And to think, this is what the pet store sold me as a 'large run'.  Nosy and Spike can't even stand up in it.  Disgraceful.

Bunny Trouble: A horrible horrible day...

On Monday morning my husband woke up and stretched.  He pulled up the blind in our bedroom and announced 'The bunnies are out in the road!'  WAHHHHHHHHHH!
Spike was on the front lawn - when I say 'lawn' I mean the little semi-circle of grass by our front door.

I hoofed it down the stairs, into the back garden grabbing the plastic carrier thingy and executed a sharp u-turn whilst grabbing the most favoured bunny treats.  Slowing to a remarkably calm walk, I glided out of the front door and gently place the carrier down on the drive.  Spike boinged into it and was 'hutched' pretty sharpish.  So far so good.

There was no sigh of Nosy.  None at all.  I didn't want to call him because I didn't want my eldest son to hear me calling and to find out that he was missing.  The driveways around we empty, the close we live in was empty.  Nothing.  I started to cry.  My son appeared in the front door, 'Mummy, what's happened' he said in alarm.  I cracked and sobbed 'We can't find Nosy'.  My first born boy let out the deepest, most heart-wrenching noise that I have ever heard coming from deep inside him. We clung to each other, me stroking his head, sobbing that it would be okay, and him gasping  'Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies, I love them, Nosy, Nosy, bunnies', over and over.

My husband had rushed round to the neighbours to ask them to help, to see if they had got a small, grey, very nosy rabbit somewhere about their premises.  By now my head was filled with images of endless fields, hedgerows and hills with a small bunny softy hopping his way to danger in a big wide, wild world.  Spike was sitting silently in the run, not knowing what to do without his brother and soul mate.

Twenty long minutes pass as we silently walk around the driveways and front gardens.

"Look!!" shouted my lovely neighbour, pointing to one of the driveways.  Nosy was sitting right in the middle, with his little one up/one down ears.  Everyone rushed on mass towards him.  "NOOOOOOO!" I shouted, 'STOP!".  Running at rabbits means running rabbits.
I walked slowly towards him and he hopped over and right into the carrier I have put nearby.

This is it - the carrier.  It is just an ordinary affair.  My bunnies love it.  It has nothing in it, no food, nothing, yet they can't wait to get into it.  Why is that?

I have to admit that, there and then, with both bunnies safe, I crumpled into a sobbing ball of mixed anguish and relief, my son wrapped around the curve of my back, crying his eyes out.

My son is 11.  He has 42 soft toy bunnies on his bed.  He has always loved rabbits, and it is because of him that I started to make the sock bunnies.  He is part-boy/part-bunny.  It took us the best part of that day to recover, he and I, just talking over the awful feelings we had had and telling the bunnies over and over how much we loved them.  They had wormed their way out of a small space where the hutch run meets the hutch itself.  From now on, they will be closed into that hutch and I will be bringing forward the construction of their new, escape-proof, fox-proof all singing and dancing new home because I never want my boy to feel that pain again.

The Warren gets bunnies!

It has finally happened.  We haz bunz.  Real bunz.  Two twelve week old boy bunz.

They are almost identical - even down to their not-quite-lopped ears.  Therefore, I do not know who is who in the pictures above!  The top one is probably Nosey, being very nosy.  Actually the bottom is probably Nosey too, being more gregarious than Spike.  Spike is a tiny bit bigger and less nosy (!) and  not as keen on being touched.  Their personalities were blindingly obvious from the moment I opened their traveling box back at home.

Nosey indulges in some comprehensive ear-cleaning.  I never knew that anything could be quite as cute.  I am totally in love.  Widget, on the other hand is having a bit of a rough time of it.