RIP Basil and Clementine

Newsflash: John Bolton is a douche. Maybe I'm the first person to point this out, who knows.

In more important news, our two pet rabbits died yesterday. I won't share the grusome details but luckily Dana was there to comfort Basil in his final moments. (Clementine had already passed.) As anyone who knows us is aware, we'd had Basil for about three years. He was rescued from an abusive situation by the New Jersey House Rabbits Society, a wonderful group of strangely obsessed people with big hearts. As we had long since decided that these would be our last rabbits (we have a long history with sickly rabbits and were particularly attached to Basil, who has outlived several "wives"), I've been comforted by happy memories from our living/dining rooms in Somerville and our old Edison apartment. I can remember all of our little furballs, but especially Basil, doing the things rabbits do best: running around at top speed, scratching up our new furniture, jumping straight in the air and over obstacles, peeing on the nice new off-white plush carpeting, crunching happily away on their veggies, licking our mirrors, shoving their heads beneath our feet for attention, humping our arms (and each other), bouncing off walls, biting off chunks of fur from one another, trying to chew through wires, menacing our cat Denton, keeping overnight guests awake, curling into us to go to sleep, chewing holes in our coats and pillows and sweaters, tossing their toys around and grunting and squeking and chasing and nipping us for attention...

We're obviously upset at the suddenness of it all but when you think about it, we gave Basil more happy years with us than he'd had unhappy ones previously, and any other rabbit who was lucky enough to spend time in our house got the royal treatment too. Almost any of our friends and guests from the past few years are bound to have some funny memories of these guys and it seems more appropriate to think about how their lives enriched ours than our loss. So, yeah.