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!

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Thursday, August 31, 2017


 Hoomin, I think you can fit a few more carrots into my bag. Come on, off we go!

- Thank you, Kayla!

Wednesday, August 30, 2017


Mid-week nap, hoomin. No, my mid-week nap, not yours

- Thank you, Chris!

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Mochi and Piplop

What? Were you joking about the sequoia carrots?

- Thank you, Elizabeth!

Monday, August 28, 2017


Yeah, you better keep it up till Tuesday, hoomin. And don't let go!

- Thank you, Kimi!

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Espresso and Latte Update

Greetings, Every Bunny!

That there is a new box of pellets. We've been subsiding on hay all day, and we were starved. Starved, I tell you! Hoomins decided we would be getting a lot fewer pellets and a lot more hay and veg. Well, pellets are like treats these days.

Of course, somebun had to inspect the new shipment. So we took a sample right then and there.
- Espresso

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Bun Fiction Update

These are rough days at the Bun Fiction Studios. The tar pits simply rolled over everything this week. We couldn't even put together a decent update about what in Sam's rocket went wrong.
Pancake Espresso or Molly as a Hopper Hurricane pilot in the RHF (Royal Hare Force).
All we were able to to this week, is put down a story in longhand. We'll probably write down another one over this weekend so we should be in better shape by next Saturday.
There was no way to get any art ready for the post either. We could only make doodles during long, mind numbing meetings.
Little sketches of Espresso and Molly sitting strapped into their Hopper Hurricanes and Spitcarrots, serving in the Royal Hare Force.

Friday, August 25, 2017


Friday's here so you can go, hoomin. I mean to set the treat buffet.

- Thank you, Melissa!

PS: Follow Cinamon and Jake on their FB page at Jake & Cinamon!

Thursday, August 24, 2017


 Yes, I can survive on carrotinis till Friday!

- Thank you, Kayla!

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Rudy and Phoenix

We may have a nice new pen, with New toys, house and even AstroTurf ... but where out are our treats?!?! I'm not speaking to you hoomin until we get some!!

- Thank you, Charlotte!

Tuesday, August 22, 2017


Oh, look at all those cherry pineapples; growing like weeds. So what have you been doing, hoomin?!?

- Thank you, Ken and Kaci!

PS Kens says, "Oh, we have disapproval, let me tell you. With the Desert Warren 13 strong some bunny is always ready to give a what for. Today’s contestant is Tralee. When asked what do you disapprove of, his reply is 'what you got?'"

Monday, August 21, 2017


Nope, you know I'm not coming out. Not today, anyway.

- Thank you, Chris!

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Latte and Espresso Update

That's a really great recipe, yammmeh indeed!

What do you want, hoomin? Points for trying? Focus, focus next time, will ya?

Greetings, Everybunny!

Yesterday we had a long baf tub ride. We did mostly well, Latte and Charlie snuggled and loafed together. I would have no such nonsense, of course. But the hoomins are hopeful, in the end, we'll become a great, prime crew. So what that it takes for ever?

This morning, our hoomin let us all out in the room, under a supervision of course. Yep, it was way too early for such an experiment.

Last night, our hoomin noticed that our pellets had shrunk to a size he didn't like so we've been getting Sarx treats. You know, the stuff he makes from the recovery food. It's very yammeh; we have to admit. Well, he's keeping that eye of his on us.

We'll keep you posted,

- Espresso

Saturday, August 19, 2017

X-Plus Bun - Bun Fiction Update

Pancake sat in the office late into the night and listened to the radio. The news was grim and getting grimmer. From time to time, a distant streak of lightning would try to disembowel the sky as the freezing hell of an approaching storm raged outside. The storm was getting closer, and it was bringing tidings of hail and microbursts. The full moon, usually a welcomed guest on any night, only drove home the outlines of the approaching frontal passage. Pancake liked to listen to the radio at night, but now it only gave her bad indigestion. She turned off the radio. She had had enough.
Molly Pancake
The story for this week would slip again, and she didn't know if she cared. The story assembly building stood empty, and nothing would be rolling out of it for launch this week. A climate control unit had fallen through the roof, and now the place was flooded, mostly with despair. The idea pump had blown a fuse, and the crew couldn't find a replacement. Thus, they couldn't fuel the story rocket. The only consolation prize in her paws was a book, "The All-American Boys," by Walt Cunningham. She was staring at the mention of Alexei Leonov and his sketchpad and pencils he had brought along for the Apollo-Soyuz mission in 1975. So there she had it: her first proof of an artist at work on orbit.
Molly walked into the room without knocking with a book in her paw and sat down in a chair. She was thumbing through the "Two Sides of The Moon" by David Scott and Alexei Leonov, careful not to lose the bookmark. Pancake finally looked up and slowly asked, "When are we now?"
Molly shook her head, disoriented, and looked at Pancake puzzled, but then she noticed the silent radio. Molly stared through the window and watched the moon. The onslaught of the torrential rains was commencing. After a long pause, she narrowed her eyes and wondered out loud, "I've no idea; I would say somewhere around the 30s."
"Right, and now it's our turn," mumbled a resigned Pancake. They sat listening to the rain and the crackle of thunder.
Molly finally broke the silence: "So, I found a mention of Leonov getting his art supplies stashed on board the Salyut 1 space station. Looks like color pencils and sketchpad again."
Pancake's disapproving mouf brightened a little, and she said, "Okay, make sure you find the page number, please. Then, add a note to 'The Bunstronaut Painters' episode. That's all we can do at the moment. Then we'll have to get our butts in gear; we can't be neutral on a flying rocket, can we now?"

Friday, August 18, 2017


Those are my crunchies for the pawty! And you spoiled them with that wet stuff.

- Thank you, Chris!

Thursday, August 17, 2017


Yep, all that rain is your fault, hoomin. And it's your fault when it doesn't rain, too.

- Thank you, Sue!

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Bubbles and Spirit

What do you mean "The raspberry melons are not ripe"?

- Thank you, Ken and Kaci!

PS: Ken says, "I had the warren out for some photos, here is Bubbles and Spirit. Bubbles is the Gray Lady and Spirit is the Goodwill ambassador for the Desert Warren. Both were bunnies on the street, rescued by Brambley Hedge Rabbit Rescue and well loved at the Desert Warren."

Tuesday, August 15, 2017


... and where are the maple carrots, hoomin?

- Thank you, Collected moments - Bunnies

PS: We're just speechless but you can follow Camilla and Sweeney on FB at

Monday, August 14, 2017

Minnie Mouse

"It was cold and stormy night. Bun could feel the M*nd*y lurking in the dark,  cold soaking the house."

- Thank you, Laura!

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Charlie Update

They are called hotspots, hoomin. No matter how much blue light you you use, hot spots will stay hot. Got it?

Greetings, Every Bunny!

Another week on the plateau. We don't play patty cakes as much though. Espresso will loaf himself by Charlie's enclosure, and Charlie lets him be. During the evenings Espresso and I go into the art room, the hoomin closes the door behind us, and Charlie has the run of the house. She runs herself silly until she peters out and gets snorgled properly.

Today we were promised another baftub flight. We'll see how it goes and we'll keep you posted.

- Latte

Saturday, August 12, 2017

X-Plus Bun - The X-Ray Array

Abby and I were in the middle of a checkers game when all the alarms went off and the ship sounded collision. Abby pushed off immediately to suit up while I sealed off and secured our cabin. Until we heard the "all clear" signal, we would continue to prepare. The moment I got to my locker we felt the collision. Something had thumped the Buzzard, and we felt and heard a dull clang as it echoed through the ship. I paused. Abby carried on with her suit and looked at me with scorn. I floated to the communications terminal and pulled up the status report of our craft. As I suspected, something had done a hard dock with us. It was Freddie and his trawler, the Morsel.
Abby and Mr. Toes
I called the flight deck and asked: "Did we have a collision or did Freddie dock extra hard?"
"It was Freddie. Stand by, we'll sound all clear as soon as the auto scans are complete," answered Molly, sounding peeved. Even if the ship turned out OK, there would be a lot of paperwork to do.
After a short while, Molly downgraded the emergency to a "caution" level, so Abby and I went back to our checkers game. Out of curiosity, we connected to Freddie's flight deck and asked him about what had happened. At first, we suspected it was one of Freddie's practical jokes. We found out later that some control thrusters had misfired on the Morsel. Freddie wasn't too happy about that. In the end, it meant a weekend of filing reports and other nonsense.
Once the situation was under control, we gathered for dinner and got down to business. Yes, business, because, magically, Freddie had procured a substantial quantity of fresh carrot tops and nutriberries. He said he had a lot more of that stuff on board the Morsel, but it would cost us.
He wanted all the x-ray machines from our last salvage job.
Dinner with Freddie
We sampled the offerings. Pancake and Abby had seconds or thirds. Freddie felt really bad about that hard dock and did everything he could to ease the tensions. He even vacuumed all the little bits and pieces of carrot tops floating about the room. The last thing we wanted was clogged up air filters. He knew Ava would scorn him into changing them. Yes, Ava's stare down looks had almost magical powers, and Freddie knew better than to test them.
When Abby had enough, she planted her feet into foot restraints and folded her paws across her chest. Her eyebrows took on a quizzical look of curiosity and disbelief. After a moment of contemplative silence, she asked, "And what exactly do you plan on doing with those machines? And how did you know we even had them?"
Freddie, apprehensive and intimidated, cleared his throat and looked around the room uneasily.
"You see, I have this old barge, parked in a geostationary orbit, behind the dark side of the moon. I'm assembling a sort of a radio station from those machines. I think it's rather unfortunate that we only have radio telescopes 'listening' for x-ray signals. Wouldn't it be great for a change to transmit something on the x-ray frequencies?"
"You what again?" asked Molly, trying to ascertain that all the words she just heard meant what she thought they meant.
"OK, I'm blasting music out into space with the help of old x-ray machines. I have an array of them going, and I keep adding to it. So I could really use the units you've got. You know, you listed them in the salvage manifest. Give me your playlist, and I'll play in on the array next week.
Abby and the berry
Molly cracked up and asked, "And how are you powering, that, you know, whatever you call it?"
"Plutonium; don't ask." said Freddie.
"You should try disdanium; twice as vicious!" quipped Pancake. Joey, floating in the back looked puzzled, unsure why they girls were picking on Freddie. At this point, I didn't get why they were picking on him so badly either. Were they still upset about the dock? Was it Freddie flaunting his creative tendencies and thinking outside the airlock that had them so irate?
I was still nomming the nutriberries and couldn't swallow them fast enough. Finally, with my mouf only half full, I slobbered out trying to change the subject, "Good berries, delicious berries, Freddie. Definitely worth a couple of old machines. So, where did you get those berries?" Freddie grinned at me a that's all he would give up.
After the last swallow, I wiped my mouf with the sleeve of my suit, like a space peasant. I asked, "How about a live performance? You know, you could hook a small orchestra to it or something. I would buy some tickets." Abby gave me a sideway look, but I only tossed one of those berries her way. She caught it in her mouf and chomped on it way harder than necessary. The berry gave up its juice with a pop, and tiny, sweet droplets flew in all directions. Anxious, Freddie blinked as Abby bared her teeth at him for a split second.
"But you're doing all the paperwork, even ours!" snapped Abby as she turned around and floated toward the flight deck.
Mr. Toes
I said, "OK, Freddie, she doesn't like paperwork. Let's go and see what's in the cargo bay." I floated toward Freddie and clutched him in a bear hug. Off we went down the tunnel toward the cargo airlock.

Friday, August 11, 2017

Cracker and Minnie Mouse

Nope, hoomin. No carrotini - no audience, you can kiss my foot. No, really, you should kiss my foot!

- Thank you, Laura!

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Disapproval at the gates

"I got in and sampled the lot - it's good. I can't look for the raspberrini still right now, there's a hoomin looking at me!"

- Thank you, Kohl's Mom!

Kohl's mom says, "Howdy!
Please find attached a picture of a wild bunny we found *inside* the deer fence (must have dug underneath) enjoying his evening meal a little over a week ago.  We do not know his name, but we were nonetheless obligated to send pictures of this live-action display of indigenous disapproval.  We have lived here for a little over a year, and we have seen all kinds of other critters (foxes, lots of deer, chipmunks (oh, so many chipmunks!), beautiful birds, raccoons, etc.), but had not seen a bunny.  We recently planted a garden, and ‘coincidentally’ this little guy shows up.  Our maximum security prison for vegetables is probably no match for the warren that is certainly on its way.
Much love from Kohl’s mom and dad."

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Gray Feather and Emerson

Emerson, that kind of reconnaissance flying is going to cost ya!

- Thank you, Auntie Jane!

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Espresso and Latte Update

Um.... we resent the term "fruit-buns." It's is our duty to inspect all the fruit and noms left within our reach. If you leave the mangos and nanners on a lower shelf, hoomin, don't be surprised that we collect our kickback as soon as we can. We're not going to wait for you and wonder if you have your priorities set straight that day.

- Espresso and Latte

PS: Espresso always likes to use the full length of the runway for takeoffs.

Monday, August 7, 2017

Drift and Meeko

Of course, we can hold out here. M*nd*y would disappear in no time if she did her job and brought the carrotini tray.

- Thank you, Kimbles!

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Binky Free, Joe

We had learned that Joe made the journey to the Rainbow Bridge on Thursday. He was not in pain; age simply caught up with his your heart. We celebrated his 13th Birthday in this March.

Our thoughts and prayers go to Michael. Thank you for giving bun a chance.

- Everybun at Disapproving Bun

PS: Our regular update with return Tuesday.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

X-Plus Bun - The Copper Cardinal

It was still dark outside, but Molly could feel the sunrise was but a few degrees of the planet's rotation away. The birds were up and singing away, trying to get as much business done before the day turned into a scorcher. She turned on the overhead lights in her workshop and sat down to test her special sunglasses. She taped a tiny controller to a willow twig and put the twig in her mouf pretending to chew on it. She looked around the room, and every time she focused on something, she pressed the sensor tied to the twig, and a pair of red markers converged on that spot. As she tested the controller, something whirred and clicked in a foam cooler sitting on the floor beside her. After a few minutes, she filled the cooler with ice, hoping to dampen the noises coming out of it.
Molly turned down the lights, sat in her chair, and took a sip of her morning tea. She resumed the exercise with her shades and the willow twig. The noise from the cooler subsided, but now you could hear the ice shifting about. Outside, the sky was getting lighter, and soon, Pancake would be up and out in the field, pulling weeds in the tomato patch.
After a while, Molly fell asleep in her chair, the willow twig slipped out of her mouf, and she didn't hear Pancake leave for work on their little farm. They were enjoying this forced vacation from flying. The Space Directorate temporarily grounded all the bunstronauts that were involved in the Behemoth incident. Thus, Molly and Pancake were making the best of it, and it tasted good. Tonight would bring another feast of homegrown fruit and veg.
Molly woke up from her nap a little agitated. She didn't mean to oversleep like that. Molly adjusted her shades, put that willow twig back in her mouf, and with both paws grabbed the handle of the cooler. Moving backward, she started pulling it outside onto the porch. The thing was heavy, very heavy, and Molly worried for a second that the wheels of the cooler would come off. But, they didn't, and she inched the cooler all the way to the end of the porch and set it next to her Adirondack chair. The day was a scorcher indeed, hot and sticky with humidity; it was birthing pop-up thunderstorms all over the sky.
Pancake heard the rumble on the porch and telescoped. There was Molly struggling with the cooler for some reason, looking like she was pulling a block of lead. Pancake thought, "Well, at least she's up," and disappeared behind the greens, pulling weeds, mowing the better ones, and inspecting the drip irrigation lines. Straight ahead, between her and Molly, a red cardinal landed on a tomato stake and kept looking at Pancake. She heard the flutter of his wings before she saw him and was glad the little guy showed up. He always did, rain or shine, he was there, the perfect companion to Pancake's garden toils meditation.
Molly was glad to be done pulling that heavy cooler. She opened its lid and took out her chamomile lemonade. The glass jar was cold, and moisture began condensing on it right away. For a split second, she glanced at the ice in the cooler sparkling with refracted lights of red and green and blue. All seemed to be in working order. She closed the lid, sat in the chair, and stretched out her legs. She moved about the willow twig in her mouf and felt for the trigger buttons.
Molly thought to herself, "Any second now." As if prompted, the red cardinal landed on one of the tomato stakes, straight ahead of her. Molly didn't move; she focused on the chirping bird. It kept moving; almost dancing restlessly on the tip of the stake. Molly's heart rate spiked, and she tried to take a deep, slow breath.
The Cardinal
She watched as the two red dots, displayed on the insides of her shades, converged on the head of the Cardinal and followed the motion of the little guy. Molly bit down on the willow twig.
Pancake was looking around the roots of the tomato plant and found a small dandelion. She flicked off the little red lady bug from one of its leaves and noticed the juicy green.
She didn't understand the blood-curdling hiss that burned a hole in the sky over her head. She didn't know what that faint, dull thud meant or the sharp crack that followed. Pancake thumped hard as the blast of singing air threw her to the ground. She telescoped to see what happened and watched as a few red feathers gently floated down where the Cardinal used to be. He was gone, and something was thrashing feebly in the greens. She heard water pouring out onto the ground somewhere behind her and looked back.Water was squirting out of the rain barrel through a small hole.
Molly sprinted toward Pancake, stopped by the tomato plant, and looked for something frantically. Pancake stood frozen in place, dumbfounded and shaken, and watched Molly stand up and growl triumphantly, with the thrashing Cardinal in her raised paw. Molly hopped over to the rain barrel and slammed the Cardinal against it.
Horrified, Pancake watched as Molly tore the bird apart and held its head in one paw and the rest of its body in the other. She used the head to plug the hole in the rain barrel and, then, immediately turned and hopped toward the shack as fast as she could. Furious, Pancake followed her as fast as her shaking hind legs allowed. Molly disappeared behind the door of her workshop. Pancake hopped onto the deck of the shack and stared at what was left of the cooler. One whole side of it, the one facing toward the field and where the Cardinal used to be, was blasted out, and water from the melting ice was spilling onto the deck. A strange contraption inside was blinking with a few tiny red, green, and blue lights.
Pancake went inside the shack. There was Molly with a headset on, talking to somebun, oblivious to the whole world. She finally paused when she noticed the smell of singed fur. When she turned her head to look around for the source of the odor, she came face to face with the infuriated Pancake. Startled, Molly thumped and leaned back.
They stood in silence, interrupted only by the occasional thrashing of the headless cardinal on the table. Pancake looked at the little, mangled body and the tiny wires coming out of where the cardinal's head used to be. There were wires and metal parts coming out of where one of its wings used to be. Pancake blinked, and her mouf dropped.
"Hold on, Freddie; I'm in big trouble. " said Molly and her headset went quiet.
Mr. Toes
Sounding resigned, Molly whispered, "Our little friend here is a robot; they've been keeping a watch over us all this time." After another long silence, she continued, "Freddie was talking me through connecting the carcass to a breadboard. We're trying to figure out who sent it out here. Freddie wants to take control of this little drone and to communicate through it. I have a nice middle cuticle in ASCII text to send back to them as a thank-you."