Latte To Go, Please

Well, we officially decided we couldn't keep the rabbit, so while the girls slept I took Latte to Wayside Waifs, our local humane society, and changed his name for our protection. Yes, the "humane" society also "puts animals down" if they aren't adopted. Echoing the newscaster who watched the Hindenburg Zeppelin doing the airborne version of the Titanic, "Oh, the humanity!" Okay, that was really more of an inner monologue ... nevermind.

Anywho, you wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork you have to fill out before you can drop off a rabbit. I spent more time doing that than actually having the rabbit. One sentence I had to initial said something about, "I understand I will not be contacted concerning the animal's final disposition, including adoption, death, or euthanasia." That's fine, just keep him away from the python owners please. Snakes don't deserve good Thanksgiving meals.



We have spent the last few days trying to get Maddie's room to not smell like rabbit funk: plug-ins, scented oils, oils with a fan, Nature's Miracle, you name it. I'm to the point now that I'm almost ready to take up smoking to cover up the smell. Or maybe getting a dog would work. Nah, they're both too expensive at this point, and I can't say I have the patience for either.

In other news, Kayla is officially a Mensa inductee. The other day she ripped out the word aardvark in all its pristine glory. Ah, yes, the wonders of Sesame Street. And Maddie can get up on all fours (though she hasn't actually crawled yet) and sit unassisted in the middle of the floor and play with her toys. Someone's been eating their Wheaties ... it's closer to juicy oatmeal but at that age, who cares?