Bubbles, Trouble and a Family Reunion

I’m an only child. That said, I have tons of cousins and most of my Junes involve family reunions. It gets complicated, but my grandfather’s side has a place on Madeline Island in northern Wisconsin. I know—not exactly bulldog central—but for whatever it lacks in tropical style, it makes up for by not being…Phoenix. My favorite part of the trip is either the four hour car ride after the five hour flight OR my morning walk to the coffee shop for sticky cinnamon rolls. Tough call.

The part I dread most, actually, is the “Collins Welcome BBQ” which happens on the family dock (did I mention it’s an island?) after everybody has assembled. Leashes are required and all of us non-humans get reintroduced to one another like a bunch of three year olds. To make matters worse, every year a wacky aunt or uncle decides to have a baby and/or adopt a new pet. I’ll never forget the year my Aunt Cindy thought it’d be a good idea to bunk me with my cousin Cosmo (look up Labradoodle in the dictionary)—I ended up sleeping in the woodshed. It was better for everybody.

Determined to make this year different, I shipped my own Fuzzyard dog bed earlier in the week to avoid any “issues.” Meanwhile, I packed my duffle with island basics: notepad, bug repellent, five pencils, poodle translator, tent, pepper spray, matches, sunscreen, my life preserver, hat, sunglasses…but then my boss called. Seriously? I picked up. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was about to ask me for a favor.

Turns out, Connie the Collie from copywriting had quit and Roger the Rhodesian Ridgeback, from reporting, was filling in for her. The Droolitzer needed content (the good kind) so I stepped up. I told him that I’d see what I could find in the Northwoods, but made no promises.

Our flight to Minneapolis was delayed so, while my Dad read his book on quantum physics, I asked my mom who’d be joining us this year. She rattled off the usual suspects: “Your cousin Ralphie the terrier, Phoebe the beagle, Gracie the basset, Lulu the pom-mix, Nila and BobCat, the feral you-know-what…and don’t you dare tease him like last summer…Tina will be there, she’s cute don’t you think, and Pete the Chihuahua and oh, Aunt Lexi’s new bunny rabbits named Bubbles and Trouble.”

“Bunnies?” I thought, “Bingo!”

The flight boarded and I spent the airtime engrossed in rodent research. I knew I loved the taste of them because, sometimes, I had bison and rabbit kibble for breakfast. I jotted down a note to remind myself not to mention that to Bubbles or Trouble. One airplane, rental car and ferryboat ride later, we pulled up to our cabin. I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted to do was socialize. My parents unloaded the car and set up my bed by the fireplace where I like it. I snoozed in the car until they bribed me inside with some biscuits from grandma. How could I resist?

I looked down at my watch and saw it was 4pm—almost BBQ time. But as I walked into the kitchen, my keen canine instincts stopped me dead in my tracks. On the counter, totally out of reach, were two ginormous bunny rabbits. They were chomping on carrots from the family garden like it was no big deal. I grabbed my notepad and steeled myself for some hard-hitting journalism.

Bogie: Hi guys. So, ummm, one of you is Bubbles and the other, I gather, is Trouble?

Bubbles: I’m Bubbles, the black one. My sister, Trouble, is spotted white and slightly bigger than me but she’s the beta bunny. We don’t wear pants but, if we did, I would. #alpha. That wasn’t always the case. Long story short, we fought a lot—one time Trouble gnawed a hole through my ear and the whole place looked like a CSI crime scene—but we’re cool now. I’m a feisty little buns and I can hold my own.

Bogie: Good grief! I had no idea bunnies even knew what drama was!! I suppose with a name like Trouble, bad stuff just happens. What gives?

Trouble: Well, originally, our mom adopted us after her first bunny, Bella, passed away. She was a good little bun and we were supposed to follow in her (lucky) rabbit footsteps as emotional support animals. That didn’t exactly pan out. Truthfully, we’re pretty much the opposite of emotional or supportive. We do, however, thump our back feet when we sense danger (aka when mom wants to pick us up).

Bogie: Tell me more.

Trouble: Bubbles has a refined fashion sensibility—particularly the shoes and coats that she’s chewed through—but, when it comes to gnawing, she’s also tech-savvy: two laptop chargers, a few cell phone chargers and the Christmas lights. Mom unplugs lamps, clocks and other stuff with wires in the house. We’re really conscious when it comes to conserving electricity! #ECObunnies.

Bogie: Hey Bubbles, tell me about Trouble.

Bubbles: Well, one of her favorite activities is chewing through the trash bag looking for apple cores. That way, when mom picks it up, the bottom is missing and trash spills everywhere. Trust me Boges, it’s hilarious. Mostly, we’re super independent and the only time we make Mom feel loved is when she feeds us. #showmethecarrots. Trouble likes to randomly jump up on the bed in the middle of the night just to wake Mom up. Other than that it’s just the usual, everyday stuff—we like to destroy the couch cushions and eat the carpet.

Bogie: I see. You currently live in Salt Lake City, Utah, and are attending law school. That’s puzzling and incredible. Where are you two from originally?

Trouble: We’re from Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. They listed our pictures online. Mum was looking for a (singular) rabbit with some personality and immediately was drawn to my name and photo. She drove six hours to meet us and have an interview with our rescue. We were a bonded pair, however, meaning one wouldn’t be adopted without the other so…

Bogie: Did you always know you wanted to become lawyers? I mean, not many bunnies out there have passed the bar. What does a typical day in the life of a law rabbit look like?

Bubbles: Well I don’t like reading much. I prefer to gnaw on the textbooks (or anything) Mom leaves on the floor, including homework. Teachers have begun to wonder why all our papers are missing the corners. I like to mark my territory by rubbing my chin on the books and I hope to absorb the legal knowledge through osmosis. That’s a fancy word for magic. I thought that passing the bar was an agility competition. I feel duped.

Bogie: What say you Trouble?

Trouble: I’m being considered as a mascot for the law school’s Animal Law Club. No big deal, except it’s a really big deal. Mom wants to use me to have people sign petitions to support animal rights. Our newest petition is trying to get Whole Foods Market to stop selling rabbit meat. Long story short, when people see how amazing I am, it makes it harder for them to eat my species.

Bogie: Who could even think of eating you guys!? Ahem, compared to me you ladies are super svelte. How do you stay in shape and keep active? Are you ski bunnies? Swimmers? Pray tell!

Trouble: I like to sleep and dream about exercising. I appreciate the compliment but I’m a trifle hefty and Mom is trying to figure out why. She has yet to discover my secret food source: Everything.

Bubbles: Trouble just eats all my food so I have no choice because I can’t eat as fast as she can. We are vegan, living primarily on timothy hay and timothy pellets with fresh greens, carrots, and apples. I’m not allowed a lot of treats because I get spoiled and refuse to eat my regular food. My favorite food is cardboard. TP roll, Fed-Ex box, paper towls…I’m not picky. Needless to say, Mom put me on a cardboard cleanse.

Bogie: My favorite food group is my rubber chicken named Robert. You guys should meet. On top of law school, studying for the bar and keeping fit, you’ve both managed to get certified as emotional support animals. I’m so impressed. What’s it like bouncing through TSA security? And do you get your own seats when you fly?

Trouble: We sit on Mom’s lap for most of the flight. The flight attendants make us go back in our crates, under the seat for take off and landing though. We don’t go through the baggage scanner, so mom has to take us out of our crate and walk us through the x-ray machine for people. We take rescue remedy (an herbal animal calmer) but still hate being held while airport security swabs us to make sure we’re not explosive. We’re not. We scratch, kick, and bite to get this point across. They called for back up at the terminal last time.

Bogie: Wow. Are you sure you’re not part poodle? Now ladies, I know you have to hit the library after the BBQ, but do you have another minute for a quick lightening round?

Bubbles: Of course.

Bogie: Alfalfa or spinach?

Bubbles: Cardboard.

Trouble: Whatever is closer to me.

Bogie: Ears up or down?

Bubbles: Up.

Trouble: Down.

Bogie: Good students or bad?