Dear Kid,

It’s that time of year again. Yes, the rabbits are out. This thrills the Puppy who is eager (and by “eager” I mean desperate) to make a friend. It is less thrilling for Dad who is not eager to share his garden bounty.

This year, the rabbit likes hiding under the holly bush in the morning and foraging in the backyard in the evening.

For reasons that seem fairly obvious, the holly bush with its prickly leaves feels like a safe place for the bunny. For reasons I don’t understand, the rabbit does not seem to be bothered by the evening mosquitoes. Which is good because I doubt the rabbit would hold still for hydrocortisone.

Turns out that rabbits have just about three-sixty vision (the better to see predators while you’re picking lettuce). Their only blind spot is right in front of their nose. Which leads to a certain irony when they misplace something.

With the exception of the rabbit in The Secret Life of Pets (we saw the movie this weekend) and possibly Peter Rabbit, rabbits are affectionate little dudes. Snowball, the psycho rabbit in Secret Life (definitely one of my favorite characters), was determined to eliminate all humans. Most rabbits (a la Peter) spend their time plotting to eliminate Dad’s garden. (Seriously, there are rabbit seminars on the specific topic of your father’s garden.)

Jackrabbits, which belong to the genus “Lepus,” have been clocked at speeds of 45 miles per hour. Jillrabbits, which belong to the genius “Of course I know the answer,” have been watched (get it? watch? clock?) even faster.

New word of the day: crepuscular. As in “rabbits are crepuscular.” Which means they are most active at dawn and at dusk and when being chased by an overly friendly puppy.

Rabbits can’t vomit, even after a night of raucous drinking. This is important because they eat their food twice. Like cows, except grosser. Cows burp up their cud and rechew it for digestive purposes. Rabits poop their first attempt at the food, then “reingest” (which means “eat their poop”) to be sure they’ve gotten all the nutrition they can from that particular lump of grass. Or clover. Or whatever.

Ick.

On the plus side, they are dang cute.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I can never go into my bedroom again.

Might be I can never even go into the house again, but we’ll have to see about that.

You know I have this thing about minding my own business—unless someone else’s business is Interesting (which—truth be told—doesn’t happen all that often).

So there I was, in our bedroom, minding my own business (and by “minding my own business” I mean quietly putting on makeup and contemplating the day ahead) when Out Of Nowhere appeared a bug. I screeched.

I think you know my theory about wildlife: It belongs in the wild. My house is most certainly not The Wild (although there are people who claim that by harboring Dust Dragons and other Chaos I do not exactly have the calmest of homes).

I think you also know my theory about legs: Four or fewer legs is just dandy. More than that is EEEEEEEEEEK! and SOMEONE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS SITUATION!!!!!

I do not like bugs in general.

And this one had more than the usual allotment of legs.

Far more.

Far, far.

Far, far, far.

And let me tell you, that sucker knows how to use those little legs. It is one fast horrid little creature.

Oh, you noticed I didn’t use the past tense? That’s the problem.

As I reached for something (other than the mascara I was holding) to deal a death blow, that bug scooted.

Not only did it scoot, it scooted INTO MY NIGHTSTAND DRAWER!

I screeched (for the second time) but apparently multi-legged evilness is deaf, or perhaps it was running away from the screech. I don’t know much (and by “much” I mean anything) about bug audiology. What I do know is that the damn thing was spotted going into the nightstand drawer and has not been spotted coming out of said drawer.

I’ll be sleeping on the couch. Or possibly in the next county.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Yesterday was a great day.

I got a great balloon…

…complete with a zero calorie cupcake.

I got a fruit basket (awesome!), I was taken to lunch, and I went shopping with Pi. For her.

After Dad took Booker for his bedtime walk, he yelled to me “Don’t move, don’t move, I’ve got one more present for you. Wait right there, I’ve got one more present!”

Here is my “one more present.” After the photo, my “one more present” was returned to not-in-the-house!

Thanks for calling yesterday.

Love you baby,

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Puppy: Mom. Pssst, Mom.
Me: Hmmm?
Puppy: Don’t look now, but we have company
Me: Huh?
Puppy: I said don’t look! There is Someone Here
Me: I haven’t had coffee yet. Go chew on a toy.
Puppy: PSSSSST! We have A Visitor
Me: Ok, what are you talking about?
Puppy: Look!
Me: The floor moved! Where are my glasses…..you found a cricket. In. The. House.
Puppy: Yes! Yes! Yes! I am such a good boy!!!
Me: Crickets don’t belong in the house
Puppy: I didn’t bring it in. I just found it. Can I keep it? Can I? Please?
Me: Wildlife belongs in the wild. Not inside.
Puppy: Can I keep it? It’s my new best friend
Me: Put the cricket down!
Puppy: Buh I wuv him
Me: Don’t talk with your mouth full. Put the cricket down
Puppy: Let’s play
Me: You may have drowned him
Puppy: Let’s play!
Me: I don’t think he’s moving
Puppy: Let’s- WOW!
Me: He moved. Not yet drowned in love
Puppy: Where did he go? Let’s go find him! Hunt! Sniff! Search!
Me: I think I’ll leave that to you.
Puppy: This is Very Important
Me: So is caffeine
Puppy: Can I have some?
Me: No
Puppy: Then I’ll search for my best friend. I’ll sniff everywhere! I’ll find him! I’ll rescue him! I’ll….Mom?
Me: Hmmm?
Puppy: What am I looking for?
Me: Oh, sweetie. Let’s go for a walk, ok?
Puppy: I love walks! Let’s go for a walk! And then breakfast, right?
Me: And then breakfast
Puppy: YAY! Mornings with breakfast are Wonderful! They are my favorite! They are the best! Let’s go!

Somewhere in the house, there is a cricket. Or possibly the remains of a cricket. Or possibly the cricket has escaped. I’ll keep you posted.

Love, Mom

For more puppy conversations see Puppy Conversations and Food Observations, Spring Puppy Conversations, New Puppy Conversations, Winter WonderPuppy | Baby It’s Cold Outside, Puppy Conversations Translated for the College Kid, Puppy Conversations and FIFA World Cup Soccer, Puppy Conversations and the Joy of Quirkiness, Puppy Conversations| In the Beginning, Puppy Conversations | What’s In a Name?, Puppy Conversations | Puppy Plans a Party, Puppy Speaks Foreign Languages…Sort Of, Summer Puppy Conversations | Speaking of Hope, National Dog Day | Puppy Has His Say, and Puppy Conversations | Completely In Love with Tal

Dear Kid,

Only the English language could come up with the word “pismire” which means ant, but literally means “peeing ant.” Who thinks of these things?

I was doing some planting yesterday when I unknowingly dug up a major entrance to an ant hill. Within seconds, there were enough picnic ants swarming around to keep an anteater family fed for many a day. As you know, I LOATHE wildlife in the house, but I don’t mind it nearly as much when it is in the Great Outdoors where it belongs.

There are ant species that have specialized soldier ants that use their heads to plug the entrances to their nests and keep intruders from gaining access. I’m fairly sure there are college students that do this as well. Personally, I think it would be easier to put out a sign that says “this colony protected by ADT” but as far as I can ascertain no ants have thought of this yet. Or maybe they’re just having difficulty teaching intruders to read.

I thought the ants swirling around were kind of interesting and I called Booker over to show him this wonderful natural phenomenon. He dutifully trotted over and looked for something to sniff. I showed him the ants. He kept looking for something interesting to sniff. Finally, he gave me a look that clearly said, “Puppies don’t care about ants. Just for the record, we don’t care about rocks either” and went back to sit in the sun.

The total biomass of all the ants on Earth is roughly equal to the total biomass of all the people on Earth. This is because ants do not care whether they have paved roads, cell phone reception, or indoor plumbing and therefore live all sorts of places humans don’t particularly care for.

To the best of my knowledge there is no college or university with an ant for a mascot. The fighting ants! Go Pismires! Wave those antennae. I’m thinking not so much.

Update: Alert Reader Jennifer has now pointed out that the University of Irvine’s mascot is the anteater. Peter the Anteater. Another good reason not to have an ant as your mascot–especially if you’re in the same division…

Some ants form “supercolonies,” massive communities of ants that can stretch for thousands of miles. It’s possible they have learned to travel very quickly from one location to another (inside our house they travel practically at the speed of light—or more specifically at the speed of “someone get that ant!”).  It is therefore possible that in the ant biomass census, scientists counted the same ant multiple times.

I totally now have the heebie jeebies. Blech.

A little later the yellow-possibly-feral cat slinked slank slunk happened to pass by. This was much more interesting and—now on high alert—Booker went chasing after the cat. As Dad said, the only thing he actually caught was a glimpse of fleeing feline.

Just remember, kid—it is fine to go chasing after things you can’t possibly catch in life. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you can climb a tree if you’re a dog. (I just made that up. You may feel free to quote me.)

Love, Mom