My Rabbit had an Abortion.

I call Ivy my rabbit "joues" sometimes because it means "cheeks" in French and she's got the fattest little pinchy-cheeks ever. I used to call her "cheeks" but the secondary meaning made me feel like I was calling her a butt face, which she is decidedly not. Her cheeks are so pinchy that they make her mouth into a square and she looks like a grumpy fat banker in a cartoon about a grumpy, villainous fat banker. He's going to up your rent and take your house and also chew on some of the furniture until you clap your hands to scare him. I don't call her joues in public however because it sounds exactly like the English word "Jew" if you pronounced the "J" in "Jew" like a flambuoyant asshole and "are you eating your poops today, Jew?" sounds odd out of context drifting out of an open window on the summer breeze. Furthermore everyone knows that Ivy was in fact baptized in a formal Roman Catholic mass sacrifice like all of God's rightful children.

Because we're moving a lot recently and are for all intents and purposes a gypsy family of transients at the moment, we had to get really smart about our stuff. So we carefully went through all of our shit and our paperwork, including the bunny adoption papers. While I was leafing through them, ruing the amount of money we spent on rabbit painkillers when we should have just given them a spoon to bite down on (get a job, you parasites) I noticed some additional paperwork on Ivy's spay.

Basically, Ivy had an abortion, you guys. She actually had like four at once, since there were four babies in her belly when she got spayed. See, when the vet goes in to do a spay, they can't really tell if the rabbit is going to have babies in her uterus or not, so it's kind of a surprise when they remove it. Surprise! Dead bunny fetuses! Good morning, by the way!

See, this brings me to a dilemma. I just feel like for Catholic adopters such as myself and Julien, the shelter might have had some sort of warning. Maybe a big red "A" painted on her cage or something. I mean, what are we, a convent? We can't just be taking in every slutty teenaged bunny mother in the metro area, it's obscene. And now how am I supposed to deal with her? Now that I know she's just a bunny whore, how do I introduce her to my impressionable babies? We have a boy bunny in this household, how can I trust them alone together? We are God-fearing people in this house.

Who is the father, even? I bet she doesn't even know. I can't even walk into a pet store now without being plagued by thoughts of my rabbit's licentiousness. I saw a pair of bunnies just the other day with a similar rare spot pattern to hers. Are they her kids too? Don't ask Ms. Welfare Queen over here, she'll just give you a side-eye and beg for a carrot. Always take, take, taking. I don't even want to get into the numerous times I've found her in bed with my husband. "Oh she just wanted a little scratch, it's perfectly innocent", "Oh she just wanted to push the blanket around for some reason", "Oh your pillow case is torn up because she got lost inside of it and tried to claw herself out". Right. Listen, I don't care what kind of weird shit you're into, just keep it in the litter box.

So now here I am, entrapped into caring for this rabbit of the night, who won't even suckle her own young because it would be "inconvenient" for her to "develop a gynecological cancer". So, we've weighed our options and we've decided to start accepting recipes for rabbit stew. If we find any good ones, the Republican party is welcome to them. What other choice have we...?