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Belinda Says Hay: “The English, Part 2”

Hello. It's Belinda. 

Last week I wrote about the English. Tried to explain why we don't get along.

But I ran out of time. Never got to the "real story."

​For that part, I have to go back to the beginning. Meaning when I first moved in here.

I'm a little nervous about telling everything that happened. I don't want to ruin my reputation, if you know what I mean. "As a professional."

​But back then I wasn't a spokesrabbit yet. I was practically a baby, if you want to know the truth.

​Here's proof. It's a photo of me the day my roommate picked me up at the shelter.

​As you can see I was not a troublemaker.

But before I went to the shelter I was “running the streets” with some other rabbits. We had to sleep under parked cars.

I don’t remember much about how we ended up outdoors. Or about my plane ride from New Zealand, which is my homeland.

All I know is I was glad my roommate brought me here.

The first thing she did was set me up in her bedroom. She stretched a fence from wall to wall to divide the room.

“You stay on that side, Belinda. And I’ll stay over here.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. I had a big sleeping box and all the hay and water I wanted. “Free refills” too. Plus pellets and salads and treats.

​The first few days, she kept thanking me for being tidy.

Come on. I wasn't going to ruin a good thing. I was on my best behavior.

At least until the incident.

​One night my roommate opened the fence so I could walk out if I wanted to. Explore the upstairs a little.

She stood at the bathroom sink, washing her face. I watched from the hallway.

Everything was fine except she had her eyes closed. She made a lot of noise with all the splashing. 

Suddenly I was stung by a bee.

On my lower back, near my tail.

I didn't even think about what to do next. When you live on the streets you learn how to defend yourself from bees.

I spun around and bit as hard as I could. It was a reflex.

​But something was wrong. The bee was big and covered with grey spots.

​That's because it was the English. Sneaking up behind me after sneaking up the steps.

Chomping me on the back for no reason. 

​My roommate heard the commotion of course. She yelled "No! No!" as the English ran back down the steps to the living room.

​She turned off the water and followed him. I stood at the top of the stairs and listened.

​Before long I could hear her cooing.

"Are you OK? Did she bite you? Show me your boo boo."

I figured I would be back at the shelter the next day.

I walked back into the bedroom and headed straight for my sleeping box.

I had no idea who the spotted rabbit was. "Regardless" I didn't want to start street fights in the hallway.

​After a while, my roommate returned to the bedroom. ​She said she was sorry that she forget to check the "baby gate."

"I'm going to add a gate at the top of the steps. He'll never bother you again, Belinda." 

​How do you like that.

​I wish I could tell you that the English learned his lesson that night but that would be a "fairy tale."

And this is not fiction. This is my blog.​​



Spokesrabbit, Small Pet Select​​

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