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Belinda Says Hay: “Home Alone”

Belinda the spokesrabbit blog. "Home Alone."

Hello. It's Belinda.

Something is up here at home. Maybe I shouldn't write about it in my blog. But it helps me when I "think out loud." 

Also I'm writing this ahead of time. Because my roommate won't be around to help me later in the week.

Not that I need help writing. But my roommate helps me get these posts "onto the web." So if she's not around I'm stuck.

Anyway she's going away for the weekend. And she won't tell us where she's going.

Which is a bit "sus" in my opinion.

It all started a few days ago. I was dozing behind the couch when I heard something hit the porch.

My heart jumped. But I didn't move a muscle.

A minute later I heard the same sound. A loud thud.

It happened three more times.

Finally my roommate walked downstairs from the bedroom level and out the front door. I poked my head around the couch to watch.

Next thing I know she's "walking" a big box into the house. She pushed it across the floor into the dining room.

Then she went back outside and forced another box through the doorway and across the floor. She didn't seem to notice me.

By the time she was done there were five huge boxes in the dining room. They were almost as tall as the table.

My roommate kneeled beside one of the boxes and tore off the tape. She opened the flaps and reached inside.

She pulled out a wooden hay manger.  A package of paper bedding. A box of alfalfa hay.

Then she packed it all back into the box. 

She opened another box and took out six bags of healthy snackers. Two bags of pea flakes. And a box of second cut timothy hay. 

She repacked these items too.

You can imagine what I was thinking. 

I assumed my roommate was starting her holiday shopping "extra early." Which meant I shouldn't be snooping from behind the couch.

Then she said it.

"How am I supposed to do this?"

She was talking to herself.

"This will never fit into the car."

I didn't like the sound of that. So I backed up into the "shadows."

The thing is, there is no good reason for my roommate to "fit" five boxes of hay and treats and such into her car. Where is she taking it? She's not a delivery service.

The next day she was trying to talk on the phone and unload the dryer at the same time. I heard her say things like "I'm leaving Friday morning" and "four-hour drive."

What is that supposed to mean?

I guess we'll be left at home alone all weekend to take care of ourselves. Little Fang and me. And the English.

My roommate hasn't said a peep to us about her little weekend getaway. No idea where she's going with a car full of pea flakes and alfalfa. 

But I know one thing. 

She'd better not be going to Midwest BunFest.



Spokesrabbit, Small Pet Select

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