Meet Chip

This .... is.... Chip.  How can you not love a face like that?  How can you not love a baby bunny that fit in the palm of your hand when you were first introduced?  Chip is now almost 3 years old, he's only slightly grown into those large hind feet.  They kind of grew with him.   They are advantageous in that he can jump into the kitchen garbage pail in a single bound.  Welcome to Chip's Clips... life from a bunny perspective.  He's more than just vegetarian.  He's more than just cute and soft and a trash bin raider.  He's a companion and great fun.  He's a whole lot of personality stuffed into a small package.   He' stubborn, but loyal, pesky, but commits daily acts of cuteness.  I cannot imagine my house without him in it. 
     Chip shares my love of gardening.  Not that he gets out there and digs in the dirt with me, but he enjoys the fruits of my labors: carrot tops, herbs and the occasional strawberry.  He's a strict vegetarian & eagerly awaits each morning with anticipation of raiding the produce bin in the refrigerator.  The bin is clear and it's on the bottom shelf, so whenever the door opens he worms his way between my feet and the bin, stands there and looks longingly at whatever is inside.  Vigilance is required at all times; bags of carrots have been known to disappear if one isn't careful.  Did I mention, he is quick, too?  
     Today, as I was dressing a chicken to be roasted, I returned from the garden with parsley and thyme for the herb butter.  Chip has a discriminating and sensitive nose, so he instantly detected the scent of herbs.  Positioning himself conveniently (or inconveniently, depending on your perspective) underfoot, Chip waited for something to drop his way.  As I was preparing the herb butter he kept hopping back and forth, creating a tripping hazard, but it's his way of letting me know he is there, waiting & ready.  He's cute, but he's pesky.  As I was rubbing the herb butter on the chicken, he became increasingly insistent on receiving some herbs for himself and we almost tripped each other up.  As he sat on his haunches and began begging, shamelessly, a blop of herb butter splattered on his fur.  I reminded him to mind his manners or I'd be rubbing him with herb butter, instead of the chicken.  He failed to find this amusing, and hopped away, leaving me to finish the work on the chicken.  What a grump!
   Chip has forgiven me now; he sits at my feet roosting companionably as I type this blog entry.  Rabbits have short memories.