CHAPTER 68 – The Fur Flies
Soft wisps of rabbit fur drifted through the air at the House of Buns. It was late summer and molting season had begun. Time for a new coat for the buns.
Bentley’s fine fur looked normal. It laid flat. It wasn’t until a whirlwind of white fur appeared in the vacuum cleaner canister that Dad could tell he was shedding. But Abigail was a different story.
Abigail looked down at her fur coat. She prided herself on keeping it smooth and clean, but right now, it was all mottled with loose tufts of fur sticking out willy nilly. Dad laughed, “Oh Abigail, you look so funny!” He pulled out his cell phone to take a photo. “No Dad!” thought Abigail, “I’m having a bad hare day! No photos!”
“Would you like some help with that?” Dad asked. He reached out and tugged on one of the tufts. “Oww!”thought Abigail, “Some of those are still attached!” she thought. She gave Dad the side eye and hopped away. “Why do humans always want to pluck out our fur?” she wondered.
Dad corralled Abigail and set her in his lap on a towel. “This is not good!” thought Abigail, as she squirmed to get away. But Dad held on tightly. “Ssshhh”, said Dad, “It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you sweetie.”
With one hand holding her down in his lap, the he used his other hand to run his fingers through her fur as if he was petting her. Loose fur began piling up behind her. “That’s not so bad, is it?” he asked.
Abigail settled into his lap, Dad picked up a hairbuster comb and with one hand, he stroked her coat with his fingers, and with the other, he used the comb to brush her. Abigail relaxed. “This feels good!” she thought. No more tugging on her fur. The loose ones just came out as he brushed her. Soon, Abigail was tooth-purring really loudly. She was a happy girl. She stopped struggling to leave. She was content in Dad’s lap.
Fur was everywhere! On the towel, on the couch, in Dad’s eyes and in his mouth. A pile of fur as big as Abigail sat on the couch. “I could make another bunny out of this!” laughed Dad. Abigail looked about half her size, too.
Finally, Abigail’s coat looked smooth again. “There. You’re all set!” said Dad. Abigail hopped out of his lap and onto the floor. “OK, brushing wasn’t so bad,” thought Abigail, “Much better than plucking!” She let Dad kiss her on the head a few times, before hopping off.
Abigail needs some help with her coat
