Jump to content
  • Welcome to the eG Forums, a service of the eGullet Society for Culinary Arts & Letters. The Society is a 501(c)3 not-for-profit organization dedicated to the advancement of the culinary arts. These advertising-free forums are provided free of charge through donations from Society members. Anyone may read the forums, but to post you must create a free account.

Not a Sweet Little Bunny


Carrot Top
 Share

Recommended Posts

Our gimpy, 11-year old terrier must read eGullet during the day. Presumably inspired by this thread, he caught a large rabbit in the back yard and left the corpse at the foot of our bed for Mrs. C to discover when she retired for the evening. The rabbit looked very peaceful, although its neck was perched at an unnatural angle. Surprisingly, neither of the dogs made any attempt to eat this prize. Apparently, the thrill of the chase was sufficient.

Although some of Judith's and Daniel's meals immediately sprang to mind, we will not be dining on stir-fried or red-braised lapin. :hmmm:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Lechon, or spit-roasted suckling pig, is a national delicacy of the Philippines. Because of a powerful childhood memory, I couldn't take a bite of it for years.

When I was four and change, we lived with my grandparents, a period of time that I remember with great fondness. My Lolo (Grandfather) and Lola (Grandmother) lovingly tended their gardens and fruit orchard; one of my childhood chores was to help feed the chickens and a whole host of pets: cats, dogs and guinea pigs. One day, someone brought a pig to our home, and I adopted it as part of the pet menagerie. Little did I know that this little piggy was destined for a fate other than being my lifetime companion.

A big party was planned for my fifth birthday with over 40 friends and family members invited. Any Filipino gathering, large or small, involves inordinate quantites of food, and I, as the budding foodie, asked early in the day what we'd be eating that evening. "Lechon," was the answer.

"Oh," I said sweetly, "will Ninong and Ninang (my Godfather and Godmother who had a pig farm) be bringing one over?"

"No, we've already got one."

I don't know how long it took my little five-year-old brain to process that statement. What I do remember is the abject horror that overcame me when I realized that my porcine bosom buddy was slated to be dinner for us all. Needless to say, I was utterly devastated and started caterwauling immediately. When it came time to slaughter the pig, I ran upstairs and hid in bed; though my head was buried under a pile of pillows, that didn't entirely stifle the squealing. I still get a knot in my throat just thinking about it.

Sigh.

Joie Alvaro Kent

"I like rice. Rice is great if you're hungry and want 2,000 of something." ~ Mitch Hedberg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Lechon, or spit-roasted suckling pig, is a national delicacy of the Philippines.  Because of a powerful childhood memory, I couldn't take a bite of it for years.

When I was four and change, we lived with my grandparents, a period of time that I remember with great fondness.  My Lolo (Grandfather) and Lola (Grandmother) lovingly tended their gardens and fruit orchard; one of my childhood chores was to help feed the chickens and a whole host of pets:  cats, dogs and guinea pigs.  One day, someone brought a pig to our home, and I adopted it as part of the pet menagerie.  Little did I know that this little piggy was destined for a fate other than being my lifetime companion.

A big party was planned for my fifth birthday with over 40 friends and family members invited.  Any Filipino gathering, large or small, involves inordinate quantites of food, and I, as the budding foodie, asked early in the day what we'd be eating that evening.  "Lechon," was the answer.

"Oh," I said sweetly, "will Ninong and Ninang (my Godfather and Godmother who had a pig farm) be bringing one over?"

"No, we've already got one."

I don't know how long it took my little five-year-old brain to process that statement.  What I do remember is the abject horror that overcame me when I realized that my porcine bosom buddy was slated to be dinner for us all.  Needless to say, I was utterly devastated and started caterwauling immediately.  When it came time to slaughter the pig, I ran upstairs and hid in bed; though my head was buried under a pile of pillows, that didn't entirely stifle the squealing.  I still get a knot in my throat just thinking about it.

Sigh.

A colleague of mine doesn't eat lamb for similar reasons. I'm glad that I only had a dog growing up! :smile:

John Sconzo, M.D. aka "docsconz"

"Remember that a very good sardine is always preferable to a not that good lobster."

- Ferran Adria on eGullet 12/16/2004.

Docsconz - Musings on Food and Life

Slow Food Saratoga Region - Co-Founder

Twitter - @docsconz

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Well the guy creeps up on the rabbit and chucks this huge stick at it from like 15 or so feet and it kills the rabbit instantly breaking it's neck. 

The guy is a better creeper and chucker than anybody I ever knew. :hmmm:

SB (when fields are green, rabbits are usually brown)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Well the guy creeps up on the rabbit and chucks this huge stick at it from like 15 or so feet and it kills the rabbit instantly breaking it's neck. 

The guy is a better creeper and chucker than anybody I ever knew. :hmmm:

SB (when fields are green, rabbits are usually brown)

Absolutely my friend, sounds like a set up to me too!

However we do get a few "throw back" coloured rabbits here and I`ve shot black, white and pie bald rabbits and all were wild, so it would appear to be a genetics thing.

"It's true I crept the boards in my youth, but I never had it in my blood, and that's what so essential isn't it? The theatrical zeal in the veins. Alas, I have little more than vintage wine and memories." - Montague Withnail.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

From another thread:

Cut the backbone loose and remove (that's chicken blood on my fingers in case anyone's wondering).

gallery_10423_3617_166215.jpg

One bird with only bones in the drumsticks and wings…

gallery_10423_3617_140590.jpg

… and a little pile of bones destined for fond blanc.

gallery_10423_3617_57682.jpg

gallery_10423_3618_68565.jpg

Chinchero

gallery_8158_4315_55890.jpg

oooh Pontormo, you know, I've never had something like that put before me to eat.  My suburban upbringing cringes but my "foodie" side says I'd try it!  There is still the mental factor to get over with some foods.

Heh. Are you so sure that you've never had something like that put before you to eat, Genny? :biggrin: Behold (in the photos posted above the guinea pig dinner), the humble chicken dinner, one of our most nationally beloved foods. :laugh:

I can't see too much of a difference. A head with a gaping mouth and some little scrabbly paws, that's all. :raz:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hmm, I've never eaten a pet, but I can remember as a kid being more than happy to tuck into my mum's rabbit pie, despite having a pet rabbit at the time. Maybe it helped that rabbit pie had featured on the dinner table before I ever had a rabbit, so I didn't really associate the two.

I suspected you would be a bunny pie lover. Your name, you know. :raz:

our chickens live waaaayy beyond their egg-laying years, in fact, i just laid to rest the oldest chicken i've ever heard of...i had her 9 years, and i got her "used" when i started up with chicken keeping, so who knows how old she actually was.

I've heard stories of dearly beloved pet chickens. Always startles me. But I like the idea. :smile:

Keep it in a nice big cage unless it's being supervised.  My husband is still "emotionally scarred" by his mother chopping the heads off of his pet geese when they got too old.  Oh, and probably by eating them in a soup that very night.  So sad.

My son is light on "supervisory" skills. :biggrin: But as far as the cage goes, it is huge. The bunny has all the best. The bunny RULES! :rolleyes:

It is *me* who is becoming emotionally scarred. For what I paid for that bunny and its "stuff" I could have had a "spa day" at the best salon in town. Or, since this is eGullet, I could have had lunch at The French Laundry and left a good tip. :huh:

I'm becoming hungry . . . oh, what I would give for a delicious dish of hasenpffefer. Yum.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I'm going to go prattling on bit by bit, trying to respond to each post, for each one was wonderful.

It's not my rabbit though.  I'm certain of it.  That makes it OK.

It's always best to eat someone else's bunny whenever possible, it's true, Katie. :wink:

We never ate a pet, but we had parakeets when growing up. My mother once tried serving us some small roasted birds. Quail, maybe? My sister and I looked at the platter and ran horrified from the table. Those birds were the size of and reminded us of what our parakeet would look like without his feathers!

P.S. I eat quail nowadays, but still can't look at one without remembering this incident.

One day a long time ago my then-MIL decided to teach me about how to catch and kill and clean small birds. She caught a starling, a pigeon, a sparrow, and one other I can't remember, in a cage.

What a lot of work to do those little birds in, and clean them. She roasted them, basted with stock and some barded with bacon. They were tiny.

Each one tasted different than the other. She was so happy to tell me all about the different sorts of meats and the flavors of each and how they differed and what dishes would be best alongside each.

It was not the idea of the small birds that made me not hungry for them, honestly. It was the sheer amount of work we had to put in to get that tiny amount of meat that left me not hungry for them. :biggrin:

Eat the bunny.  It's driving you nuts and making a mess.  'Sides a roasted bunny with some potatoes is a very nice dish.

Think of it as a good opportunity to teach your son about the afterlife.

I like you, Gastro888. :laugh:

(But if I were going to teach him about the afterlife, I would also have to consider whether there was a reincarnated soul living in the bunny, and how that might affect my karma. :wink::blink: )

Link to comment
Share on other sites

It's not my rabbit though.  I'm certain of it.  That makes it OK.

It's always best to eat someone else's bunny whenever possible, it's true, Katie. :wink:

:laugh:

Ahem. Well, actually I was more implying that my bunny could not possibly have lived so long, so I was certain it wasn't my bunny by the time I started eating rabbits recreationally. Nonetheless, I suppose my more sweeping point was I didn't want to eat my bunny, or any bunny that anyone had an emotional attachment to. I like my food impersonal. On a styrofoam tray wrapped in plastic with a price sticker. Or delivered by a pleasant waiter and not having to know its providence at all, because I trust the chef implicitly.

Katie M. Loeb
Booze Muse, Spiritual Advisor

Author: Shake, Stir, Pour:Fresh Homegrown Cocktails

Cheers!
Bartendrix,Intoxicologist, Beverage Consultant, Philadelphia, PA
Captain Liberty of the Good Varietals, Aphrodite of Alcohol

Link to comment
Share on other sites

...
Eat the bunny.  It's driving you nuts and making a mess.  'Sides a roasted bunny with some potatoes is a very nice dish.

Think of it as a good opportunity to teach your son about the afterlife.

I like you, Gastro888. :laugh:

(But if I were going to teach him about the afterlife, I would also have to consider whether there was a reincarnated soul living in the bunny, and how that might affect my karma. :wink::blink: )

Ah but see that's why I said AFTERLIFE and not karma! If you feel bad, I'm sure you can chant before you prep the protein, I mean, Fluffy. 'Sides, you can claim karma for all the times it soiled your house! :laugh::laugh::raz:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

So the woman in question eats the rabbit and said it was the best chicken she ever had.  :blink:  We then tell her that she was eating rabbit but she never believed us... she finished her plate and asked for second... and I bet she still believe that it was chicken no matter how many time we told her it was rabbit. 

This was really weird... one would think the bones and taste would help convincing such a person... but no.  :huh:

:laugh: Obviously she lived in a world of her own making. :biggrin:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Though I didn't see it, Mr. Duck says that the cuts of beef in the freezer were labeled with the name of the cow (Paolina, shank).  I'm afraid next time I visit, Ada will be on the menu. 

Makes me wonder if temperament has anything to do with flavor, finally. It will be interesting, if Ada tastes better. :biggrin:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I have never thought of rabbits as pets and have lived in the country most of my life so they are food. The first rabbits I ever had part of raising were "bunnies" that we were given at Easter with the full understanding that they would eventually become dinner.

In rural areas wild rabbits rabbits have traditionally been eaten incidental to being killed in order to protect crops.  Farms kids, who often raise show rabbits as 4-H projects, are thus ambivalent about the animals contrasting roles as pet and pest.

the meat from a large snapping turtle we'd caught while fishing the night before to make Tortise and Hare Stew! 

Truth be told, we never even found out how it tasted because it smelled to bad we had to haul it out back and dump it into the swamp. 

I love what 4-H does. Someday I might try to join. No idea what my project would be, though.

Isn't there a peculiar and specific way that a snapping turtle has to be cleaned in order to not smell like that? I seem to remember something like that from somewhere . . . (you see my vagueness with these matters - 4-H will have a time with me I'm sure :raz: )

The rabbit is cute, white, and munching on some field grass and some cute yellow flowers.  Well the guy creeps up on the rabbit and chucks this huge stick at it from like 15 or so feet and it kills the rabbit instantly breaking it's neck.  I'm sure I'm going to hell for this, but after seeing a guy chuck a stick at a rabbit's head I laughed my ass off. 

:laugh::laugh::laugh:

(I guess I'm going to hell along with you, Sheena Greena. What shall we wear? :raz: )

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Our gimpy, 11-year old terrier must read eGullet during the day. Presumably inspired by this thread, he caught a large rabbit in the back yard and left the corpse at the foot of our bed for Mrs. C to discover when she retired for the evening.

:shock:

What a good doggie. :smile:

I don't know how long it took my little five-year-old brain to process that statement.  What I do remember is the abject horror that overcame me when I realized that my porcine bosom buddy was slated to be dinner for us all.  Needless to say, I was utterly devastated and started caterwauling immediately.  When it came time to slaughter the pig, I ran upstairs and hid in bed; though my head was buried under a pile of pillows, that didn't entirely stifle the squealing.  I still get a knot in my throat just thinking about it.

Sigh.

:sad:

Or delivered by a pleasant waiter and not having to know its providence at all, because I trust the chef implicitly.

Yes. We kill things in the back of the house and smile winningly in the front of house.

:rolleyes:

..............................................

Ah, well. Some things have transpired in the past day, since all these lovely responses to my cry for help, and I've made my decision. Will the bunny hit the pot or not?

I'll have to tell you tomorrow. I'm quite worn out. :huh:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Isn't there a peculiar and specific way that a snapping turtle has to be cleaned in order to not smell like that? I seem to remember something like that from somewhere . . . (you see my vagueness with these matters - 4-H will have a time with me I'm sure  :raz: )

Turtles are a rather unfortunate example of the old adage, "you are what you eat". There are proper methods to killing and cleaning them which, as best I can recall, (remember, this took place at The Phunny Pharm), we followed pretty closely.

My friend Charlie was raised a real country boy, and was quite well versed in such matters. We caught the snapper fishing for catfish at a "secret spot" he and his brothers had used when they were kids.

We really hadn't planned on eating the turtle, but we really hadn't planned on catching one either. And this one was pretty big; almost two feet long by eighteen inches actoss, and must have weighed around forty pounds! :shock:

One interesting sideline is that a snapping turtle, which takes a long time to die even with its head chopped off, will go towards the water if you set it down on the ground. This is another good reason to nail it upside down by the tail to a tree.

My other friend in this story, Paul, was more interested in drying out the shell to make a giant ashtray. He'd heard that if you put the top half of the shell over an ant hill, the ants will strip it clean. At least in this case that proved to be untrue, and the turtle's shell ended up being tossed out in the swamp along with the rest of it's parts.

Anyway, having literally disposed of our Tortise and Hare Stew, and having dropped our catfish catch off for Charlie's Mom, we retired to a local tavern to dine on beer and pizza that night. :smile:

SB (wasn't really as rustic as this story might make him seem)(I even made Charlie put the leeches we used for catfish bait on my hook) :rolleyes:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ah, well. Some things have transpired in the past day, since all these lovely responses to my cry for help, and I've made my decision. Will the bunny hit the pot or not?

I'll have to tell you tomorrow. I'm quite worn out.  :huh:

Ah, the sword of Damocles hanging over the bunny's neck... :shock:

And we left hanging in suspense... :unsure:

Edited by SuzySushi (log)

SuzySushi

"She sells shiso by the seashore."

My eGullet Foodblog: A Tropical Christmas in the Suburbs

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Or delivered by a pleasant waiter and not having to know its providence at all, because I trust the chef implicitly.

Yes. We kill things in the back of the house and smile winningly in the front of house.

:rolleyes:

..............................................

Ah, well. Some things have transpired in the past day, since all these lovely responses to my cry for help, and I've made my decision. Will the bunny hit the pot or not?

I'll have to tell you tomorrow. I'm quite worn out. :huh:

Again - not exactly where I was heading with that. Don't forget I work in restaurants. I was speaking more to the suppliers than the chef chasing the critters around the kitchen with a big cleaver a la Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd... :laugh:

I fear for the bunny. :unsure: I'll look here first thing tomorrow for my answer.

Katie M. Loeb
Booze Muse, Spiritual Advisor

Author: Shake, Stir, Pour:Fresh Homegrown Cocktails

Cheers!
Bartendrix,Intoxicologist, Beverage Consultant, Philadelphia, PA
Captain Liberty of the Good Varietals, Aphrodite of Alcohol

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ah, the sword of Damocles hanging over the bunny's neck...  :shock:

Or the Chinese cleaver of Karen.

She (he? it? I haven't poked around to find out and do not intend to :angry: ) looks more like this, SB. Rather scrawny specimen for the pot, yes.

Again - not exactly where I was heading with that.  Don't forget I work in restaurants.  I was speaking more to the suppliers than the chef chasng the critters around the kitchen with a big cleaver a la Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd... :laugh:

Ah. That's why back-of-house stays late some nights, Katie. After all the FOH folk go home. Then of course, one can say that it was the suppliers that did it. :smile: Just a fun way of letting off some steam. Wheeeeee!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Though I didn't see it, Mr. Duck says that the cuts of beef in the freezer were labeled with the name of the cow (Paolina, shank).  I'm afraid next time I visit, Ada will be on the menu. 

Makes me wonder if temperament has anything to do with flavor, finally. It will be interesting, if Ada tastes better. :biggrin:

It’s been a while since we were there, so Ada is long gone. We're going back in September (and possibly June), so I'll do a flavor and personality profile of the other cows and report back.

Funny, they don’t name the pigs, ducks, and chickens. Just the cows.

As for your question Carrot Top, only if he falls in “accidentally”. :raz:

Karen C.

"Oh, suddenly life’s fun, suddenly there’s a reason to get up in the morning – it’s called bacon!" - Sookie St. James

Travelogue: Ten days in Tuscany

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A bunny is something that most cultures consider dinner. It's hunted in the woods, in the fields, or is grown in small cages (as we do here with chickens) as a decent-tasting protein, not too difficult to butcher or to grow. No diminution of the name "rabbit" to the idea of "bunny" which makes the creature adorable-sounding to start off with.

But here, in the US, we have a food item that has been made into a pet, made into an icon, really, of an image. Most of the ways we think of bunnies are not as food. We think of bunnies and in our minds rise the images of Bugs Bunny, a part of childhood Saturday mornings spent sprawled before the TV, rather than spent tending the garden or doing chores as children in earlier times or other places might do. Those with access to parents who read aloud, or to libraries, take into their hearts for all time our dear bunny cousin from across the pond - Peter Rabbit, plus memories of his mother, family, and assorted friends tucked around MacGregor's farm. Sometime later we meet Roger Rabbit, who is of course loved by Jessica. How could we think of him in a pie? Impossible! And to top it all off, we have Playboy Bunnies, the cream of the crop of sexually desirable young women who stick a furry white tail on their behinds, add floppy silk headbands with huge bunny ears attached (the better to hear you with, my dear), and put on a skimpy costume designed so that their mammary glands always seem just about to pop out at any moment, an agricultural food-product thought (not). Or maybe it is for some.

A little white bunny entered my home. He (she, it) invaded my son's room, because my son wanted it to. And everything that seemed wrong about Western Culture seemed to invade my house, all because of a food item that wasn't.

Generally I can persuade Drew to keep his room neat. This is something I insist upon, because these kids have so much "stuff". But the bunny, a cute little animal, was simply too much. Generally he keeps the door to his room open, but now it was closed, for the bunny needed to run and there is a cat in the house. The bunny started chewing cords, even though Drew had wrapped them in duct tape. This is a room with a *lot* of electronics, electronics being another dropping our culture often leaves in its trail. I had images of room and boy and bunny all exploding into an electrical explosion after one particularly good bite of a wire. And since bunny, the thing most cultures eat, was not yet trained, he (she, it) was shitting all over the floor, pissing on the carpet. Etc, etc.

The thing that most people around the world eat, was eating us.

And then it tried to electrocute me.

I have cooked rabbits before, and it seemed to be quite a good idea for this one.

But then again, we can not eat our friends, and this thing that most people eat had become Drew's friend. What to do.

What we did, was peculiar, but it is us. I re-did Drew's room for bunny and Drew to exist together better. Carpet removed (thank goodness I do not believe in wall-to-wall carpet, so that was not too very difficult), excess electronics were removed and all cords re-wrapped to an excess of duct tape. As Drew seemed to be developing sinus problems, I removed the bunny cage from his room, as probably living with hay in his room was the cause. Bunny now lives in an alcove outside the living room. Ridiculous, I know. Now everyone that visits our home can know and love bunny.

Drew is allowed to take bunny into his room to play for short periods of time. Since bunny needs intellectual stimulation, I told Drew to go into the basement to find some cardboard boxes, to fill them with this and that, as the instructional Bunny Link directed. I am not sure what happened, but when he climbed up the stairs to the kitchen he was calling "Help, Mom". I opened the door to the basement and was faced with a boy carrying a three and a half foot tall cardboard castle with turrets and small boxes coming from the tops and sides of the larger box at the bottom, all nicely prepared for bunny.

The castle is in a corner of his room now, complete with flag stuck on top with a wooden skewer from my kitchen drawer, a skewer that is used for shish-kebobs. Bunny, the thing that most people eat, has become a Duke (or a Duchess). And everyone knows one can not eat a Duke or a Duchess. Their meat is stringy.

I've loved each one of your helpful responses, and if I missed answering any, I hope you will understand and forgive me. It is almost time for elevenses, and the Duchess needs her tender celery leaves prepared just so!

Celery gives good flavor to rabbit. One can always dream.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

RE: CT: "Bunny now lives in an alcove outside the living room. Ridiculous, I know. Now everyone that visits our home can know and love bunny."

Perhaps you can have chicken for dinner instead? I hear it tastes like rabbit. :smile:

SB (lover of furry creatures, great and small) :wub:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I'll probably be spending too much time petting bunny between his ears through the wires of his cage to be able to cook anymore, SB.

So. You are a lover of furry creatures but not feathered creatures? :rolleyes:

You would get along wonderfully with my cat. :laugh:

The only disagreement between the two of you would be that she thinks bunny a good thing to eat, too. :smile:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

So. You are a lover of furry creatures but not feathered creatures?  :rolleyes:

I prefer my feathered creatures unfeathered, and then fricaseed or cacciatored. :smile:

You would get along wonderfully with my cat.  :laugh:

I like cats, but my dogs would disapprove.

SB (would have a hard time eating cat or dog)(or guinea pig for that matter) :sad:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A bunny is something that most cultures consider dinner. It's hunted in the woods, in the fields, or is grown in small cages (as we do here with chickens) as a decent-tasting protein, not too difficult to butcher or to grow. No diminution of the name "rabbit" to the idea of "bunny" which makes the creature adorable-sounding to start off with.

But here, in the US, we have a food item that has been made into a pet, made into an icon, really, of an image. Most of the ways we think of bunnies are not as food. We think of bunnies and in our minds rise the images of Bugs Bunny, a part of childhood Saturday mornings spent sprawled before the TV, rather than spent tending the garden or doing chores as children in earlier times or other places might do. Those with access to parents who read aloud, or to libraries, take into their hearts for all time our dear bunny cousin from across the pond - Peter Rabbit, plus memories of his mother, family, and assorted friends tucked around MacGregor's farm. Sometime later we meet Roger Rabbit, who is of course loved by Jessica. How could we think of him in a pie? Impossible! And to top it all off, we have Playboy Bunnies, the cream of the crop of sexually desirable young women who stick a furry white tail on their behinds, add floppy silk headbands with huge bunny ears attached (the better to hear you with, my dear), and put on a skimpy costume designed so that their mammary glands always seem just about to pop out at any moment, an agricultural food-product thought (not). Or maybe it is for some.

A little white bunny entered my home. He (she, it) invaded my son's room, because my son wanted it to. And everything that seemed wrong about Western Culture seemed to invade my house, all because of a food item that wasn't.

Generally I can persuade Drew to keep his room neat. This is something I insist upon, because these kids have so much "stuff". But the bunny, a cute little animal, was simply too much. Generally he keeps the door to his room open, but now it was closed, for the bunny needed to run and there is a cat in the house. The bunny started chewing cords, even though Drew had wrapped them in duct tape. This is a room with a *lot* of electronics, electronics being another dropping our culture often leaves in its trail. I had images of room and boy and bunny all exploding into an electrical explosion after one particularly good bite of a wire. And since bunny, the thing most cultures eat, was not yet trained, he (she, it) was shitting all over the floor, pissing on the carpet. Etc, etc.

The thing that most people around the world eat, was eating us.

And then it tried to electrocute me.

I have cooked rabbits before, and it seemed to be quite a good idea for this one.

But then again, we can not eat our friends, and this thing that most people eat had become Drew's friend. What to do.

What we did, was peculiar, but it is us. I re-did Drew's room for bunny and Drew to exist together better. Carpet removed (thank goodness I do not believe in wall-to-wall carpet, so that was not too very difficult), excess electronics were removed and all cords re-wrapped to an excess of duct tape. As Drew seemed to be developing sinus problems, I removed the bunny cage from his room, as probably living with hay in his room was the cause. Bunny now lives in an alcove outside the living room. Ridiculous, I know. Now everyone that visits our home can know and love bunny.

Drew is allowed to take bunny into his room to play for short periods of time. Since bunny needs intellectual stimulation, I told Drew to go into the basement to find some cardboard boxes, to fill them with this and that, as the instructional Bunny Link directed. I am not sure what happened, but when he climbed up the stairs to the kitchen he was calling "Help, Mom". I opened the door to the basement and was faced with a boy carrying a three and a half foot tall cardboard castle with turrets and small boxes coming from the tops and sides of the larger box at the bottom, all nicely prepared for bunny.

The castle is in a corner of his room now, complete with flag stuck on top with a wooden skewer from my kitchen drawer, a skewer that is used for shish-kebobs. Bunny, the thing that most people eat, has become a Duke (or a Duchess). And everyone knows one can not eat a Duke or a Duchess. Their meat is stringy.

I've loved each one of your helpful responses, and if I missed answering any, I hope you will understand and forgive me. It is almost time for elevenses, and the Duchess needs her tender celery leaves prepared just so!

Celery gives good flavor to rabbit. One can always dream.

In your masterly summary of bunny icons, you didn't mention

that ultimate act of murderous villainy: the psycho bunny-boiling

heroine of Fatal Attraction....

:biggrin:

Milagai

Link to comment
Share on other sites

 Share

×
×
  • Create New...