Strike action ahead.

I'm just about to go on strike. It's the only way to change one or two things whic h have spiralled out of control. My control that is.

For a start, look at the length of my grass patch. Have I a great long tongue like a cow to wind round it and pull up stuff? Cetainly not. I'm a nibbler. I start at one end and nibble my way to the other. Even on my back legs I can't reach the top of these blades so can't even begin the job. And what if there's somebody in there waiting to pounce? I've seen toads in there and spidery things.
Then there's this new thing at tea -time. I'm expected to kiss J's nose before I get my grassy, herb salad at five-o-clock. I never had to do this in the past. All because she's been reading about people clicker training bunnies then giving them a treat. Just like being in a circus or one of those wild life parks where they train parrots. Poor things. M doesn't have to kiss anybody's nose before he gets his tea. Why should I?
But what to do about it? I could refuse my salad. Turn my back as we rabbits do if we want to be rude. Nope. Not a good idea. I like it too much. I could poo while I chew. No, J would make me go outside to eat it and it might rain. I think just ignoring the grass patch is easier.
There are a couple of other ways of going on strike. I could give up standing in front of the vacuum cleaner as I always do to show them where to go next. I could throw my dried grass out of my bowl , I could eat all the baby carrot tops in the grow bag although somebody seems to have started on them already. I could binkie in front of the TV at the most exciting bit of the programme. I could learn to chew furniture. Must give it more thought.
Had my myxie jab the other day. It doesn't seem five minutes since I was in hospital. In case the vet thought about keeping me in again, I shot up onto J's shoulder to make my point. You never know with vets. I was ok though and after toe nail clipping and a tooth check we came home.
Nothing much else has happened lately. Gardening mostly. I made a bit of a scrape the other day but the soil shot up onto my middle and gave me a surprise so I ran for the back door. It's much safer inside. I only did it because whenever I went out, J kept scrabbling with her hands in the soil to show me how to do it. As if I wouldn't know. M said he didn't know which was dafter, a rabbit who wouldn't scrape or a human showing a rabbit how to scrape.
But back to strike action. I don't think I'll bother after all. What's a bit of grass between friends and I don't hold grudges. I'll carry on nibbling the carrot tops and parsley though. Oops! Hope they don't read this. They're blaming slugs and snails at the moment.
Time for tea and that kissy thing.

PS. Good to hear from you Lennie. Watch out for the kissy thing. We rabbits must stick together.