We gratefully acknowledge the original 'Disapproving Rabbits' website, that inspired this site, and its creators, Sharon, Bill, Cinnamon, and Dougal. Without you, we would not be here. We Approve Of You!
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Monday, August 29, 2016
Do I have something in my teeth? Twice as much in my teeth would be better, you know.
- Thank you, Mike!
PS: Mike Says, "She was adopted from our local humane society - same as where we got Tilly & Gilbert. The local chapter of the HRS works closely with the bunnies up for adoption at the Sonoma County Humane Society. We may be giving a few buns a chance in our house, but the volunteers working to socialize and get rabbits ready for adoption are the real heroes.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
It is with a heavy heart that we would like to with Peppermint a God Speed at the Rainbow Bridge. She got a respiratory infection that medication couldn't clear, even though she took her meds like a champ. She had a great life while with us. Thank you Ken and Kaci, for giving bun a chance <3
- Mr. Bun
It's what I call a slow news day. I had One bum rinse this week and a good bit of snurgles. Hoomin figured out a way to rinse the sensitive areas of the undercarriage without getting my lower back all wet. So the drying goes much, much easier.
After the rinse, we had a movie night, with treats and headrubs. We enjoyed the "Last Bun on the Moon" with Bun Cernan ;-)
- Mr. Bun
PS: Yes, we're talking about Eugene A. Cernan and the documentary "The Last Man On The Moon" :-)
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Last Week on the Disapprovers: The Disapprovers discovered a technical error in their plot line and proceeded to correct it. It turns out that no bun can watch a sunset over the west coast of Africa at 2:30 AM Eastern Standard time. Afterward, the pick up the story line where they left off and move on.
We didn't have to do anything to watch the next show when the night took over, and all the stars came out. But we decided to alter our vantage point anyway by gently turning around using the handlebars and cables for support. We barely had to touch any of that stuff since our mass was so small; it took very little force to move us. The view turned out much more satisfying and overwhelming than I expected. It meant that I was relaxed enough to perceive the majestic void in front of me. Suddenly I had a hard time breathing; I felt a hard squeeze around my chest. I thought, well, I can't recognize any of the constellations because my vision is failing, I can't breathe, is it my time already? No, it wasn't. It was Abby, squeezing me and holding on. I couldn't recognize the constellations because there were so many stars! I tapped her paw, and she let up a little. We didn't have to say anything. I felt a strange bond with the hoomins here, though. I suspected they had to be frustrated trying to describe their experiences of spending time here. No matter what they tried, the experience evaded capture and stayed beyond their reach. We let ourselves be, and I lost all track of time. We got used to the hum of the station, and the ensuing monotony felt reassuring, conducive to being lost in the moment.
I felt Abby stir a little and scratch her cheek. "How many atoms of gold are in our bodies, do you think?" I asked quietly. She looked at me puzzled, shook her head and rested it on mine. I looked at the view outside again. "Does it matter?" she asked after a long pause. I said, "In this grand scheme of things," and I pointed to the stars with my nose, "probably not. But each and every one of them came from the supernovae, out there." I kept quiet after that. I felt bad about breaking the silence; I had diminished the majesty of the moment.
After a while, we changed our positions again and got ready to watch a sunrise. Technically speaking, the sunrise looked the way hoomins described it, beautiful and overwhelming, yet none of that prepared us for the intensity and speed of becoming immersed in its pure sunlight. My brain felt like a piece of clay, getting kneaded and worked on by some fantastic, invisible paws. I could feel in my chest the gut and paws the impact of what I was observing. My grand plans, mischief, and all that I had hoped to perpetrate on this trip vanished. I was grateful that I had the luxury to be honest with myself and to admit that simply being here was enough. I was thankful that Abby was here, that I didn't have to choose between her and being a bunstronaut.
She tagged on my foot. "Major, if we want to see anything else on the station, we probably have to do it now. We still have the 'gift' to deploy, remember? We can come back here later, okay?" I nodded and turned around to float out and away from the cupola. I didn't want to leave it. I pushed off the window with my foot, just enough to get moving. "I'm really tired of lugging around that 'present.' It bounces about every time I move, and it's going to cause a problem," grumbled Abby under her nose. Several sections connected in a straight line make up the core of the station, and there are several smaller modules connected to its sides. It's a gross oversimplification, and I would never call the station a glorified space trailer, but it will do for now. We got out of the Node 3 we were in and tried to turn "left," toward Node 2, and the crew quarters. Well, the "left" part is relative. You can have "left" or "right." All you have to do is turn yourself upside down, and "left" becomes "right." Anyway, we had to go "that way." You know, everything here is "down the hallway and to the left." You just have to put your head in the right perspective. We made our turn from Node 1 into the Destiny module.
From Node 1, we could see the airlock and a couple of spacesuits velcroed to the walls. One of them was uncovered. Were the hoomins that careless? We knew there was an EVA scheduled for the next day, and it takes a long time to prepare for one, but I thought the suits would be all covered up! I made a mental note of that.
We moved on to Node 2, very slowly and very quietly. We got the "present" uncovered. It wasn't easy because if you don't have proper leverage in zero gravity, you can tug, push, and pull on something all you want and it will tug, pull, and push right back against you. You'd go nowhere. Space gymnastics, that's what we had to do. We could start a circus there! I held the package in my paws while Abby wrapped her legs around me and peeled off the tape that was holding half the cover on the package. She lifted it off, rolled it up, and tucked it away in her suit. She got the tape with the clip unfurled, and I watched it make a crazy, swirling dance, all thanks to its weightlessness. Once Abby had gotten the tape under control, we moved toward the junction of Destiny and Node 2. We crawled along the wall until we got to the first crew compartment. Its fabric door was closed, and it looked to me it was more suitable for storing a vampire during daylight than for acting as a personal space, but never mind that. There were blue handles next to the doors, so we threaded the tape through one of them and secured it with a little knot to keep the stuff from floating away. We extended the tape with the "present" as much as we could to make it equidistant from all the other crew compartments. At this point, we could only hope that it would stay in place. It was a strange thing, that "present." Freddie said the folks here would probably kill for a bite of it. He got some very expensive cheese, two thick slices of proper sourdough bread, and real butter. He put hot spices and salt on it because these sorry sods here can't taste a whole lot. For some unexplained reason, food can taste very bland in zero gravity. Worse yet, fresh produce and food are very, very scarce on the Station. Oh, how I'd love to watch what the sandwich would do to their brains. Especially the part when they try to figure out where it came from.
I was holding on to Abby's vest, admiring the sight of the sandwich relaxing in zero gravity, half wrapped in a space blanket when I felt a tug on my foot and my heart almost flew out of my throat.
Friday, August 26, 2016
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Of course, I am the bun you're looking!
- Thank you, Jim!
PS: Bananakin Skywalker is looking a forever home and is up for adoption at https://www.mspca.org/ in MA. More info on Bnanakin can be found on PetFinder at https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/35723514
GREAT MANY THANKS, EVERYBUN!
We had a great response to our call foo disapproval. Renee put out a word for us on FB (mom of Mr. Toes, Abby and the whole Disapprovers crew) and everybun there helped out as well <3
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Monday, August 22, 2016
Sunday, August 21, 2016
The good news is that my belleh is doing much better. Poops are back to normal. I didn't have to get any extra bafs or even rinses. We both enjoyed the break from that.
Hoomin thinks my INU (Inertial Navigation Unit) is on a blink. Celestial navigation is out of the question as well, with my cataracts and all. Or maybe I'm going through a strange change in behavior. I'm not so keen on returning to my favorite spot in the bundo. I'll stop and nod off wherever I am. He's anxious about that, so he's making sure I drink - I get water service in a little bowl, right up to my mouf! Maybe I just trained him right?
- Mr. Bun
PS: The nanner was uuuuuge! It was a homegrown nanner from a friend at work! It tasted a little less sweet and a bit citrusy. Breakfast herbs were very yammeh. The klutz was too slow with the clicker to catch the last milliseconds of the raspberry before it got nomed ;-)
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Last Week on the Disapprovers: Mr. Toes and Abby enjoy their visit to the International Space Station.
"Stop! Everybunny just stop!" said Pancake, jolting everybun to attention. She lowered her paw with the script and closed her eyes. She dropped the papers, put one paw on her side, and covered her eyes with the other. She looked exasperated. Pancake pulled her paw over her face and scratched the side of her cheek with a grimace suggesting she's about to go into a "Chris Kraft" type of rant. Instead, she stayed calm and asked loudly, "Who wrote this nonsense?" We were all silent, staring at her. I took off my headset. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Freddie do the same. "This episode?" asked Molly. "No, last week's," responded Pancake.
She started pacing in circles. When she stopped, she put her paws on her sides and straightened up, "Well, it doesn't matter now. How do we fix it? Everybun, how do we work this problem?" I still had no idea what she was talking about. Suddenly, Freddie got up, threw his headset to the ground, and waddled off slowly, muttering, "I'm too old for this fertilizer, I need a drink."
I was flipping through the pages of last week's story but couldn't catch on to what she was complaining about. Pancake picked up the offending script and turned to the second page. " First, let's work the timeline. Mr. Toes and Abby are on orbit during the early morning hours, say two, maybe two thirty Eastern Standard Time. Shortly after, they work their way to the cupola and start to watch the sunset over the coast of West Africa..."
Then it hit me, and I felt my ears getting hot. Of course! I flopped over onto my back and gazed at the ceiling.
"Oh, you got it, Major?" giggled Pancake. She kept her cool. She was right; it was so obvious now. At that time, the west coast of Africa would be in the dark. They could never watch a sunset over there. Izzy caught on as well and started looking for ways to reconcile the plot. "I'm thinking just a ballpark location; they could watch the sunset somewhere close to Australia," said Molly as Izzy was nodding in agreement, without looking away from her laptop.
Freddie came back with beverages and handed everybun a jug and quipped, "Bottoms up, everybunny! This is epic!" He gulped down the fresh, raspberry grog. "Auckland, New Zealand!" blurted out Izzy. "They can watch a sunset over New Zealand and then Australia if they stay at the cupola long enough." "No, they can not." corrected Freddie. "Remember, the station is moving, so if they are watching a sunset, they are close to entering the shadow of the Earth, and they are mostly done watching anything. Australia is moving away from them. The next exciting thing they can watch is a sunrise, maybe someplace farther east.
"Well, somebunny make the edits then! Izzy, are you sure about the timeline?" asked Pancake. "Sure, boss!" replied Izzy. "So they could be watching lightning strikes if there were any storms over the water, right?" I asked. "Sounds plausible," confirmed Freddie.
"OK, we can pick up the story when Mr. Toes and Abby are in the cupola; they finished watching the darkness and are getting ready to begin stargazing. Is everybunny with me?" commanded Pancake. "Suzy would be so proud of her!" I thought as I took a gulp of water and put on my headset. I saved my grog for later.
Pancake gave the count, "In five, ... four, ... " then switched to a silent count of three, two, one with her toes. We were back on track and rolling again.
* * *
Abby turned upside down and held onto my foot. We were still Earth-gazing, watching the little cauliflowers of afternoon storm clouds turning yellow and then orange as we sped over them at about five miles a second. To be honest, this was enough for me. Doing anything else would be superficial. Experiments, mischief, anything and everything else other than stillness felt like a come-on. This, right here and right now, fed my soul. That's as necessary as having fresh hay and clean water. There's no point in feeding the gut if the soul starves.
I suspected the same might be true for the hoomins here. They might have different reasons for trying to make it here, but when it's all said and done, do they realize the most important thing that can happen is the impact on their souls?
Now, the world below was slowly getting swallowed by darkness. The black void over the ocean was getting punctured by occasional lightning strikes. The time had come for some proper stargazing.
Friday, August 19, 2016
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
Sunday, August 14, 2016
It better be good! I had to wait long enough!
After the exam, we're waiting for our bottle of pro-biotics.
Here's my salad from last Sunday. It was at least yammeh even if he didn't make it snappeh.
All went well last week except for some soft poops. We had multiple bum bafs last week. Thus, we went to see Moma-Vet on Saturday. I got poked and prodded. Do you how they take temperature at the vet?!? I won't tell you. It did earn me all the treats I wanted, though. The good news is I checked out fine and got commended on how clean my hoomin keeps me.
He, got a plastic container with a little pooper scooper to grab a sample of the soft stuff - if it shows up today - to drop it off for lab work at the vet, first thing Monday morning.
For now, the vet hopes this is related to the change in pellets I'm eating. I have some pro-biotics to go with my food and hopefully that's all I need.
We'll keep you posted :-)
- Mr. Bun
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Last Week on the Disapprovers: Mr. Toes and Abby make last minute preparations for their big vacation adventure. Mr. Toes contemplates the arrival and progress made by the next generation of disapprovers.
We played by the rules all day, giving hoomins no reason for concern. I only tried to take a few more naps than normal, but that's all. We ate really well, and we made sure to stay hydrated. Izzy and Freddie monitored our destination for any unusual development and detected nothing. Izzy reported only the usual life science experiments going on; there was a video conference call with a group of elementary school kids. They were very curious about growing vegetables in such an unusual environment. Most importantly, there was the sense of everything proceeding routinely.
Sammy and Quinn, under the watchful eyes of Freddie, tested our suits, double checked all relevant destination parameters, plugged in the most current data points into the sim, and ran it one more time. Freddie tested and re-tested the voice communication equipment and the Morse code transmitter. All was set to go.
When the time came to suit up, I snuck a couple of cecotropes by hiding them under my right pawpit. I don't think anybunny noticed. Don't ask why. Freddie insisted we put on diapers. Yes, he did, and we did as he bid.
Once we headed for the basement, Freddie and Bruno went with us to see us off. Everybunny else stayed in our improvised mission control. Everybun had something to monitor. For the most part, it would involve monitoring silence. It seems silly, but it is harder to do than it sounds. That's why they doubled up. It wouldn't be so bad if we picked a busy time of the day for our trip. Hoomins would be talking a lot, especially if they spotted us. But, we picked the least busy part of the day—or night, to be exact. Thus, listening to nothing is a high art.
We did a voice and Morse check one more time right before we crawled into the pot belly stove. Abby carried our goodwill present velcroed to her suit. We hugged Bruno and Freddie. He seemed very nervous and fidgety, almost restless. I thought it was very unusual for him, but then again, ours was a very rare "vacation."
Pancake and Molly acted as "flight directors" and both went full "Kranz" for the occasion, sporting very dapper vests. Pancake wore a very clean-cut white vest and Molly had an ornate deep red and gold one. Pancake wanted to get a crew cut, but that would be hard to conceal from, or explain to, our hoomins. Bruno prepared a couple of catnip stogies for our return. I think they took it all very seriously.
Once Singularia picked the latest set of coordinates data for the remote port, we tested it in preview mode. Everything looked clear. We asked for the port, and I could feel my heart rate spiking. I relaxed and wiggled all my toes, trying to stretch them.
When the port was ready, we moved toward the exit and slowly stuck our noses out and listened for any signs of hoomin activity. We picked up no signs of hoomins piddling about. It's a good thing we were still, at least partially, in the port. We backed into the port, then moved forward with enough energy to float out of it.
We were on orbit, at the International Space Station, roughly 260 miles above our home. As I floated out, turning slowly, the place smelled like I remembered it from the preview and it sounded the same too. The station hummed and grunted a little bit. I was crossing the main module, heading for its side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abby, turning head over hocks, with a huge grin on her face.
I could feel my head getting a little stuffy, fluids slowly flowing into it. As I approached the side of the module, I extended my paw and cushioned my contact with it, trying to slowly dissipate my energy through muscle tension. I didn't want to bounce too hard. It almost worked. When I saw that I would bounce anyway, I grabbed a cable of some sort. I hoped it wasn't important. The great and awful thing about being so tiny on orbit is that it takes so little energy and muscle to move about. It takes very little to stop or to get going.
Abby landed right on me, grabbing me by the shoulder. We stayed there for a minute, listening. We couldn't hear the hoomins moving or shuffling. In the station, you can't feel the vibrations of the floor when they stomp. They can't stomp; there's no floor.
"Shall we?" I asked. Abby pushed away gently, imperceptibly, and gave her air bottle a little squeeze. She floated along the length of the module. I followed. We wanted to get close to some windows, and we knew just the place: the cupola! The only trouble was, there could be an insomniac hoomin night-owl taking up the place. We decided to sneak along the wall until we could peer into the cupola. We glided quietly, almost touching the surface of the wall. Abby stopped before the entrance. I slowed down and worked my way along the edge of the junction where the cupola connected with the rest of the station. I peered inside. It was dark and empty. And, there were windows! Lots of windows! There were a few cameras velcroed to the structure. I saw Abby's ears rising up from behind the edge. As I pushed off, I kept my eye on Abby and looked for a place to "glue" myself to. I closed my paw on one of the straps tying down a camera. I felt Abby's paw grabbing my foot and then pulling herself up, paw over paw, up the length of my torso, until we were nose to nose.
We became transfixed very quickly. We pressed our noses to the cold, thick window pane and looked toward home, slowly moving underneath us. It was still daylight over the Atlantic Ocean, but we could see the sunset was near over the western coast of Africa. We said nothing. I realized I had a death grip on the camera strap, trying to sue it for stability. My paw ached. I relaxed it and felt the relief of tension flowing through me. What was I really trying to hold onto? I couldn't hold onto anything, not really, not here. There was no need for that. It was our home below that did all the holding onto us.