On Romance and Rabbits
The love life of my rabbits is enviable.
Dakota is 4 and 1/2 lbs. Dakota used to weigh only 4 lbs but living large in an all female family has made him put on some love handles. He rolls around in his morning hay like a Buddha-esque blowfish on crack. He’s addicted to hay and women.
As far as he’s concerned he owns me and I’m being a good love slave in all that I do for him.
Things have changed.
I remember some years back my boyfriend gave me a book called ‘Codependent No More’ and sent me off to his therapist who smoked long stemmed cigarettes. She looked at me lazily like I was just another multi-colored mosquito—radio static, a female who’d be better off in the Convent or begging for food on the streets. “What about your cigarettes I’d say to her, aren’t they a dependency of sorts?” She’d take another drag and wait for me to pull a miracle out of butt and not say such silly things; become a dignified woman like her I suppose.
But the rabbits? They just figure it out. And it’s amazing to watch the living poetry of it. This arrangement works brilliantly for them (well, him). He gets adored by both females. Carrots are his therapist; his addiction and corner bar.
He has his own way of showing devotion.
Caila loves to take long naps. Dakota won’t sleep when she sleeps. Instead he sits next to her, alert and watchful; protective. When she’s up and eating, he’ll take his rest. At night when the lights go out, he comes running to me, lays flat on his stomach for his nightly love feast with ‘the other woman’.
He has his own kingdom of romance and he doesn’t skimp.
DAKOTA’S LOVE MANIFESTO
• If you don’t adore me, I’ll kick your ass.
• Size never matters. I’m not small, they are big. Love is love and that’s it!
• I know most female rabbits are alpha, but that was a mistake from the start. I’m correcting that in the rabbit nations.
• I eat first and get all the love and females I want but they’ll always have a home with me.
• If Niya takes us to the doctor I will not be embarrassed for how I hide under her hair. Don’t judge me.
• I’m not a male chauvinist pig! I’m a male chauvinist rabbit.
• I like to stand on my back legs and show the girls my belly and yawn— it brings the girls to their knees.
• I’m not fat, I’m happy. I know my priorities: women, food and a little hump here and there when I can get away with it.