Just Call Me the Rabbit Pimp of Prairie Farm

Some mornings, you wake up and all is right with the world. Some mornings, you wake up and you just want to crawl back under the covers and hide.

This morning, I woke up, went outside, and had one of those moments when you think to yourself: Huh. I never thought I'd be doing this before 7 AM.

That's right folks, crank up your 48 of Barry White and switch on that sexy disco ball hanging from the ceiling of that vintage '70s porno set we all have tucked into our little vestigial brains. I was out there, in the cold, before dawn, encouraging two rabbits to have carnal relations, before my first cuppa of the day.

Twice.

Such is the life of a rabbit pimp. Little Mama apparently had a phantom pregnancy (okay, she just wasn't pregnant at all, no phantom involved). No kits arrived as per the rabbit delivery schedule (29 to 31 days post-climax). Let's just say that Bucky and Little Mama had a very....enthusiastic....reunion. I can't say that Little Mama really enjoyed herself, but Bucky had a fantastic time heaving and snorting and eventually rolling over backwards...after about 30 seconds of go-go time. This is why you can do rabbit breeding before heading off to work. In the time it took me to bang out the frozen ice cubes of water dishes and hand out dried apple slices to the spectators (yes, the other rabbits seem to like to watch, little sickos that they are), I was pretty sure that success happened and that Little Mama would likely be preggo by the end of the day. (You see, she ovulates AFTER copulation. Betcha didn't know that about rabbits, did ya?) After congratulating Bucky on his wonderful performance, I bundled Little Mama into her cage, bid everyone a peaceful day, and wandered inside for my hot cup of coffee.

Boom chicka bwow wow, bayyyyybeeee.

P.S. An afternoon liason was also successful. I believe in under a month, Bucky and Little Mama will be proud parents once again. Eat your heart out, Viagra.