I had to visit my sister again for a few days; and saying goodbye to the bunnies was quite difficult. They knew something was different when I picked up my car keys and they clinked together. They don’t like that sound. They know it is connected to either me going away or them being put in a carry box.
Buttons always has his ears up and constantly stares at me once he hears the keys, his eyes never leave me. Nova sits and becomes very alert, both watching Buttons and my behaviour. They watch every move I make while packing the car – me going inside and outside carrying bags and things.
Then, when I say the dreaded words their little hearts break. “Back in a minute” always means I’ll be gone between 30 minutes and a week. How are two bunnies supposed to cope? Especially when they can tell how long a minute is to the mini-micro-nano-second.
They give me dirty looks and hop away once they realise that it is true. I will be back in a minute. Side glances, looks over shoulders and bum-in-the-face is the usual farewell. How dare I go? How dare I not take my fluffers with me? How dare I be back in a minute?
At my sister’s, my niece decided to bathe Tinkerbell, her guinea pig. She thought he had fleas or something because he was scratching a lot.
So, what did she do? Put him in a bath and washed him with cat and dog flea shampoo. I had my serious reservations, but she had already poured about half the bottle of shampoo on him before I could mention a better way of doing it. All I could do was to help her wash the shampoo off his tiny body with warm water.
I got her to pick him up, dripping, as I took the yellow container and tipped it out in the laundry sink. Then I refilled it with fresh warm water, which she placed Tinky back into and kept rinsing off the shampoo. She had poured a LOT of shampoo on him, too much.
He was lifted up and put back into water about six times before the water stopped having bubbles in it.
Throughout the washing process, poor Bubbles watched, traumatised by the activity. She did not want to be next. She steered clear of the yellow container and stayed completely still against the farthest back fence as possible.
As I took this photo, she was thinking “Please, I’m a good girl. I don’t like this. Please, don’t do this to me.”
Of course, she didn’t get a bath. She had nothing to worry about.
After poor Tinky survived the bath and a blow dry, my niece realised the black dots she saw was just dirt.
“Oh well, at least he’s clean,” she said.
“He’s a show quality piggy,” I replied. After all, that’s all I could say.
Once left alone, the piggies ran, frolicked and popped around their play pen. We had never seen piggies run so fast before.
After a couple of days, my sister got a delivery which contained this box. She had purchased it for the piggies to keep them off the ground during winter when they are outside for a little while. She put hay in it, and within two minutes, Bubbles found her way into it. Not long later Tinkerbell followed.
The box was a winner.
