The New Blog

The new installments of our adventures can be found at Rabbits Ate My Homework. No, I don't know what that means. Ask Orion about his dissertation-eating habits.

Calypso Spots at Seven

The blog has been lacking in new rabbit photos for much too long. The photos were taken awhile back, but getting around to doing anything with them was another matter.
Calypso Spots is now seven (we suppose her birthday was sometime in March) and she would like it known that she is nobody's Easter Bunny. When she is particularly relaxed, she likes to curl up in ridiculous naptime poses like this. Still, she likes to keep a watchful if sleepy eye on things. Someone might do something exciting, like bring out the chocolate.

Ms. Spots believes in encouraging her admirers to express their ecstatic love for her. Fortunately, Orion's tongue never gets tired.
The human in the household is ready to adopt this kind of life at a moment's notice, should the opportunity emerge.

Busy or Just Wasting Time?

Regular readers might be wondering whether I've become lazy, overwhelmed, or have been taken into computerless custody by irritated rabbits. I am not entirely sure which except that the rabbits have not actually gotten me away from the computer. In fact, at the moment they are comfortably reclining under a chair, having extracted extra petting because I spent the entire day at home.
But it's true I've been spending quite a bit of time doing this-that-and-the-other thing related to teaching, and one of those things has been the lengthy process of making what must be well over 2000 reproductions of Czech art readily available to my students and other interested persons. One of these pictures is in fact now illustrating a post over at A Journey Round My Skull, in case anyone wants to see an early (cubist) Otto Gutfreund sketch.
It has also been my intention, for the past several days, to post the list several of my colleagues have compiled relating to the things tables are used for, but I keep not having the list on me at the moments when I think about blogging. My apologies to Robert and Aaron for my sluggish ways, as no doubt they have been anxiously waiting for this to go online. Art historians have to occupy their minds with strange conceptual matters from time to time in order to prevent becoming too preoccupied with actual art objects.
And there you have it.

UPS Comes Through

Orion examines an eagerly awaited item that arrived for his human today and suggests that its frame might be considered edible. His human says no. Oil paintings are not edible. Paintings are not the province of the lapine community. Especially paintings by and of people we've known.

Lapines Complain Bitterly

Ms. Spots and Orion would like to make it known that their human spends far too much time "working" when she should be attending to their petting and other needs. They are not altogether sure what this "working" stuff is all about other than that it involves going to places called "school" and "the cafe" and spending way too much time on that stupid laptop, but they state categorically that they are utterly opposed to this misuse of their human's valuable time.
The Spotted Pair admits that the negligent human did finally buy them fresh hay, pellets, and litter the other day, and came up with a passable selection of greens (collard, dandelion, and parsley) recently. The human has been very recalcitrant about confessing where the cookies were hidden, however, and seems to be hiding a bar of chocolate in one of the backpacks.
The Spotted Pair supposes that maybe there will be a letup sometime soon, but figures it's best not to lay bets on that. They are tired of hearing "I'll see you rabbits later."

Happy New Year and the Like

Orion and Ms. Spots wish everyone a Happy New Year. Their human is sniveling considerably (both literally and figuratively) and wants to know why the internet has been acting so dial-up-like in its speed these past few days, causing her to take hours and hours to do things with Artstor and Blackboard that would normally only take... well, fewer hours and hours.
In the New Year there will be additional postings of Who Should Do Your Portrait. We are also planning a new, somewhat similar game also invented by the intrepid art history grad students. Stay tuned!

Who Should Do Your Portrait?

Some days ago, several of us art historical types got onto the topic of who, in the entire known history of art, we might like to have do our portraits. This is a fairly complex question since it isn't really about which artists we like, although that comes into it to some extent. It's possible to admire an artist considerably without having any real desire to have that person do one's portrait; it's also possible to think a given artist would do an interesting portrait but not think one would really care to put such portraits on the top of the wish-list. The initial group of us tended, for example, to think that Alice Neel, Andy Warhol, George Grosz, and Otto Dix were not exactly high on our lists even though we would not turn them down should they ask to portray us.
Alice Neel, Portrait of Joe Gould, 1933

Andy Warhol, Marilyn Monroe, 1967

George Grosz, The Engineer Heartfield, 1920

Otto Dix, Sylvia von Harden, 1920s
I'll be posting some responses on artists people would like to be portrayed by, but in the meantime I think we will start close to home.

Calypso Spots thinks she would like to be painted by Beatrix Potter despite the fact that Potter doesn't seem to have done any lops or spotted rabbits.

Orion thinks he would be better served by Albrecht Dürer.

Nice Little Surprises

One of my students stayed after class to ask a question about her paper, and we got into a longer conversation, as often happens. When she mentioned that she planned to become a vet and start a small-animal practice, I said she should consider specializing in animals like rabbits and guinea pigs.
It turned out that not only does she have a rabbit of her own and not only is she a rabbit volunteer with the local shelters, but she's currently fostering the enchanting Sophia in the hopes that her rabbit will fall in love with the visitor. Sophia is even moving toward being litterbox-trained (she is one of the only rabbits I've ever met who did not believe in litterboxes).
I've certainly met people who turned out to know one or more of my friends, but the other day when I was watching a program about network theory and "six degrees of separation," it did not occur to me that I'd be discovering that one of my students and I know some of the same shelter rabbits.

And on to Philadelphia...

where the year's AAASS conference is taking place. Kristen and I are headed out first thing in the morning (that is to say, around 10:00) and will be feeding upon bagels on our way.
While on the whole I suppose I have things in a relatively manageable condition--rabbits corralled, a new supply of antibiotic purchased, rabbit-sitter ready to medicate twice a day--and I have mailed off something very non-dissertation-like written over the summer--and none of my students have had mental breakdowns yet although one is about to have child #4 at any moment--etc etc--I feel that all I really want to do at the moment is go into a deep sleep during which Orion will be medicated into complete health, all of my job applications will be written and mailed, next semester's courses will be made perfect and put up on Courseweb, and publishers will be begging me to favor them with my work. All those little sorts of things.
I believe I will go and contemplate my suitcase.

Never Feel Momentarily OK

On the whole, I enjoy this whole academic adventure. When in the mood, I don't mind working at it seven days a week.
But I really dislike feeling as though seven days a week is necessary not to fall behind. This makes me irritable. So today I thought perhaps I could take the day off.
Apparently not. When I returned from the library with some fiction in hand, I discovered Orion having a sneezing fit. RELAPSE! I rapidly corralled both rabbits into the X-pen and medicated the sniffly one, to his fury. Ms. Spots showed no particular annoyance at being confined, until she tried to be friendly to The Angry One, who began to take out his aggressions on her instead of on the wire. He began chasing her around in a malignant frenzy and trying to bite her, so I had to take her out. She was quite upset at her devoted admirer turning on her like that. Usually they only have spats about treats, and not in a limited space.
I then turned to checking my email and found the advice that I should (to all intents and purposes) plaster the civilized world with my job applications. This is depressing. I was hoping ten or twenty would be enough.
As if that weren't enough, the only suitable looking film I could rustle up to have shown on Thursday has to be brought from storage (it is a reel film), might not arrive in time, and will have to be shown by someone or other specially brought in for the purpose. Not really what I had in mind.
I don't feel any happier than Orion, but at least I'm not biting anything or anyone. Yet.

Things Take a Turn for the Better

My advisor reveals that she is pleased with the newer, slimmer dissertation and that it can go to the rest of the committee once a few small things (probably some rough translations and typos) have been fixed).
We can now proceed to determine a defense date.
After spending all day working on presentations for spring classes, I might take a little break and wander about and think about fiction or something like that.
And Orion, who finagled his way into not being medicated quite as long as the vet wanted (I hope this will not result in a relapse, but his symptoms went away around Tuesday), has made clear that he no longer hates my guts but really would like to be petted and get back to being on good terms and have his ears kissed. I'm relieved he doesn't believe in holding grudges for extended periods of time like the late Penelope.

Election Day Arrives

My neighborhood, as far as I can tell, is pretty solidly Obama territory. At least, going by signage. But one of the local landmarks of late has been this duplex on N. Highland. The large McCain sign on the one side is balanced by an army of smaller Obama signs.
I had initially assumed there was a bitter fight going on there, but one day I heard that the two neighbors actually get along well outside the political arena. The Obama half happened in to Tazza d'Oro one day and told my friends Lawrence and Alexis (who know everyone) that Obama signs simply keep showing up in his side of the yard and that they should feel free to take one or two for themselves. The McCain neighbor, meanwhile, is said to take in his sign at night to prevent it from being stolen. Well, it is a pretty stunning sign whether or not you agree with it.
I went to my polling place as soon as I could get myself out of the house. I was a little nervous given that I had somehow been registered as a Republican. It gave me that feeling that some dire thing might happen. Whether because of my bizarre alleged affiliation or for some other reason (I had not voted at this precinct before), the pollworkers wanted plenty of ID, and were finally satisfied with my California driver's license. I had brought a mountain of ID just in case.
All my past votes had been cast on paper, however. I was alarmed to see I would be voting on a computer screen. Visions of voter fraud went through my head, especially since I couldn't see any sign which company had manufactured the machine. Still, I succeeded in casting my vote, and proceeded on to Tazza d'Oro for some coffee. A steady stream of voters and election workers are coming through, emblazoned with more different Obama pins than I had previously seen anywhere. Perhaps my old friend Dr. Zaius is right about the course of the McCain-Palin campaign. And for that matter about the Bush presidency. I thought, however, that I had been too busy cutting my dissertation to get to any Halloween parties. I guess I attended one in my astral body over at the Zaius-Gregarious campaign headquarters. If you look closely, there I am in one of the photos. Not one of my better moments but I guess Dr. Zaius intuited that the costume in question is much like what I wore on my fifth birthday (hint: standing there next to Kermit the Frog).

On the home front, life revolves around medicating an angry rabbit. After a morning of chasing Orion round and round the couch (he won), I gave up and incarcerated both rabbits. Ms. Spots has taken the whole thing abnormally well, although this morning she did let me know she thought I had taken this far enough. But then, she would happily take Orion's medicine for him. Orion still wants no part of it but recognizes that he has been bested. He's furious but submissive. I have to say that while submissive is convenient, I don't really like seeing him get that way. It isn't exactly natural to him.
The heavily trimmed dissertation has been turned in. We will see whether my advisor thinks it has been trimmed and revised enough to go on to the rest of the committee. I can only hope so. I wasn't able to cut as much as she wanted, but I did get rid of over a hundred pages. My stamina for this kind of thing is about gone for now and I really need to turn to other projects, like finishing next semester's courses and putting together job applications.

Orion Revisits the Vet

Orion, accompanied by Ms. Spots, visited the vet a couple of weeks ago after a brief and uncharacteristic lack of desire for breakfast. Since his appetite had returned by the time we went, both rabbits mainly had their toenails trimmed and their ears cleaned.
Unfortunately, this week Orion has come down with a new indisposition: a runny nose that causes sniffling and sneezing. His behavior has been pretty normal, so I hoped it would pass in a couple of days, but it wasn't going away and he was beginning to want unusual amounts of petting, so today he went back to the vet.
We came away with a big bottle of medicine, which he will be taking twice a day for the next two weeks. I was hoping that I could just mix the stuff with baby food and expect him to lap it up the way George used to, and for that matter the way Ms. Spots usually does, but he sniffed it suspiciously and decided it was not at all his kind of treat. I then had to try syringe feeding him. While I was able to catch him (a sign in itself that he is not feeling so great), he wanted no part of having things stuck in his mouth, and really I have no skill at syringe-feeding rabbits single-handed anyway. Most of whatever got into his mouth probably got there because it dripped onto his paws and he licked his paws after the ordeal.
I sniffed the mixture and had to admit that even to the poor-quality human nose, it smelled medicinal. Ms. Spots thinks the stuff smells interesting, but she has a more adventurous palate than Orion.
At most I was able to get half the evening's dose into the protesting patient. He is now reclining under a wicker chair with his paramour, who licked his face to express her support. She doesn't lick him all that much as a rule, but she is doing pretty well at being Dr. Spots today.
I'm not sure how we'll get through twice-a-day dosing of the patient considering that he now regards me with considerable suspicion and I've only really successfully syringe-fed rabbits with the help of a second person.

6th Anniversary

No, Ms. Spots and Orion have not been an item for six years yet, but today it is six years since Her Spottedness was adopted from the Western Pennsylvania Humane Society. At that time she was a half-grown little critter, but her charms were already manifestly evident. She was friendly, lively, and immediately fell in love with the unforgettable George, never mind that he was starting to have considerable trouble hopping around.
While Calypso Spots has always been a mischievous character, she no longer gets into much trouble and is best described as a Glutton for Petting. She brings those who know her much happiness, other than when stealing Orion's evening treat, and it is very much to be wished that she will be with us for at least another six delightful years. That is her Floppy-Earedness over to the left, reaching out to her besotted mate, Orion the English Spot.

And What Breed IS Your Rabbit?

The Pittsburgh House Rabbit Club's latest meeting addressed the matter of America's rabbit breeds. Of course, generally speaking we have adopted rabbits who needed homes, but that doesn't mean we are uninterested in their physical characteristics.
I didn't actually take notes, but if memory serves me, there are something like 40 or 60 breeds recognized in the United States, which doesn't take into account the numerous breeds found only in other lands. I learned that while Orion is unquestionably an English Spot, he is definitely not a show rabbit (not that this was any surprise). Only 50% of a litter has the "correct" markings; 25% is solid-colored and Orion is one of the 25% that have something vaguely approximating the standard markings. Orion has the black ears and black patches around his eyes, he sort of has the black nose but in a lopsided manner, his cheek spots are merged with his eye patches, and let's not try to specify what happened to the differentiation between the black stripe down the back and the side spots. If he weren't so fat, he would have the correct arched, long-limbed body type (he had it once upon a time).
Ms. Spots is allegedly a French Lop, but I have always had doubts about this, as she has never weighed more than 8 pounds, so perhaps she is actually a Mini Lop or some sort of mixture. She has much bigger feet than Orion and always looked as though she would grow to be larger than she actually did.
There are photos of the various breeds at the ARBA website.
While at the meeting, I learned that Bingo has really and permanently been adopted. He was fostered by a shelter worker who decided that she couldn't possibly give him up, and he now lives with other rabbits, birds, and I don't know what all. I gather he has exactly the kind of high-stimulus, high-petting life he needs and deserves. While I regret not getting to have him myself, I don't know how I would have added him to my small household.
Less fortunately, Sophia was adopted but returned--after she had bonded with another rabbit in the household. No one is very happy about this, least of all Sophia. It is true she doesn't seem to believe in litterboxes, but other than that she's a lovely rabbit.
Also less fortunately, my car has had to be towed to the shop for the second time in two weeks. The first time, the (local) shop couldn't find anything wrong. We'll see what the (no longer very local) dealership says. The obliging towtruck operator, who did his best both times around, now wonders if the fuel pump needs to be replaced.

Rabbits and Their Tastes

Certain rabbits have peculiar culinary interests. I have alluded before to the broad tastes evinced by Calypso Spots, who likes not just most fruits, vegetables, and hays, but also macaroni and cheese, Indian cuisine, nuts, chocolate, gingerbread, yogurt, and countless other things that are best not given her in more than small doses. It was no surprise, then, when she expressed her grave disappointment that I had eaten an entire fortune cookie without giving her any crumbs.
I was much more disturbed to discover that when Orion discovers a pile of fur I have just groomed off him or Ms. Spots, he will proceed to begin eating it as though it were hay. He has done this twice in the past few days, and therefore I think this means that no piles of fur can be left temporarily for him to find.
Could this be the explanation of his abnormal bulk?

Beatrix Potter Drawings

As my readers may suspect, the Spotted Pair and I have arrived safely in California and are pretending to be very busy. (Well, I am supposed to be, while they are making a show of having much grooming and other business to take care of.) I have actually made two plum and apricot pies, with two more planned for tomorrow, but there are no photos because we ate the evidence.
In the meantime, those who are fond of rabbits and other small animals, or simply have a weakness for wonderful illustration, can go see the rare Beatrix Potter drawings at BibliOdyssey. For the most part I haven't seen any of these elsewhere, although I do have notecards of a different version of the dancing rabbits.
Speaking of dancing, I expect to do a good deal of that over the weekend, assuming of course that I do not break a leg going up or down library steps.

Random Strangeness

As the rabbits and I prepare for our summer trip to the Bay Area (that is, the California one; I have learned that there's also one in Clear Lake, Texas, which even has some things in common with the California one), we or at least I have encountered various odd, if presumably insignificant, things.
Why, for example, should the glass part of my driver's side mirror choose to fall off? I heard a noise outside as I started the car, and even opened the door to look and see what it was, but didn't see anything. Naturally I later discovered that the mirror was gone and I had run over it.
Why is it that, when I took two blankets to the cleaners a couple of months ago, the tag said they would be ready in a few days and that the cleaners were not responsible for items left over 45 days, but when I came by three weeks later, the blankets were not yet done, and indeed when I came by now (at least 45 days later), they still weren't done and apparently the assumption is that when you bring in blankets for spring cleaning, you want them stored all summer because you won't be needing them? I don't in fact need the blankets yet, but I would prefer to know ahead of time that the cleaners could/would store them. What if I had been moving out of town?
What possessed my cell phone screen to go blank (requiring it to be shipped to T-Mobile for repair or replacement) and the loaner phone, just before I returned it to our local T-Mobile store (which I might add has given me excellent customer service) to suddenly claim I had no voicemail account? Actually, the latter wasn't the loaner phone's problem, but I don't know what caused the voicemail account to disappear for about 8 hours until tech support did some sort of magic and it reappeared complete with saved messages.
Why (not that this is anything new) does my apartment always feel about 20 degrees hotter than the temperature outdoors? I really don't like to listen to the airconditioner, even though I am glad to have it.
Why (not that this is anything new either) must Ms. Spots wait until just after I have swept the floor and emptied the litterbox to leave a pile of droppings in front of said litterbox? I think that, at the age of six, she is a bit too set in her ways to be trained out of this practice. She does use the litterbox, but seems to regard the area in front of it as an adjunct litterbox.
And why, when Megan visited over the weekend, did Orion feel that it was absolutely necessary to invade the bedroom at 6 a.m. and chew not only a phone cord and a USB extension cord (neither normally available to him), but to chew up the cord to Megan's phone charger, which had fallen on the floor during the night?
Pondering these peculiarities of life, I am also pondering whether the rabbits will be easily persuaded into the carrier to go to the airport. Orion is presently sitting in the litterbox doing his special Meditation and Contact with Alien Beings routine, and Ms. Spots is napping by the dining room table, so at the moment it would be easy to put them in the carrier, but we have an hour or so to go before we leave, and they may well decide it's time to move to their daytime napping spot under the couch. But there is no point in putting them in the carrier now, as it is disagreeable enough for them to spend 12-13 hours in the carrier without adding on an extra hour. --What, 12-13 hours just to fly across the US? Well, an hour and a half to get to the airport on the bus, an hour or hour and a half to deal with airport security and all that, and then of course we don't have a direct flight (whatever happened to those?) so we go out of our way to Atlanta and take an hour to change planes, and then it will take an hour or hour and a half to collect the suitcase and take BART at the other end. It always ends up with 12-13 hours of rabbits in carrier, and while they hate it, I must say they take it very well considering everything.

Bingo Expresses His Opinion

Since I'm about to fly off to Texas to look at some privately owned Toyen originals and other fun Czech modernist items, I thought I had better drop by Animal Rescue League and entertain Bingo for awhile. And, of, course, any other rabbits who chose to be interested.
At home, Ms. Spots takes her daytime nap very seriously, and Orion too is usually sleeping under the couch most of the afternoon. But not Bingo. I don't think Bingo has any preferred nap time. Show any interest in him, and he's ready to get up and go--out of the cage, leaving his scent everywhere possible in the Rabbit Room. The Bingomatic Rabbit is nearly a perpetual motion machine, although he will settle down for long petting sessions after he's run around for awhile.
Bingo's very popular with the rabbit volunteers and has always struck me as a goodnatured creature. Unlike the other bottom-cage rabbits, I've never seen him try to bite any rabbit that ventured close to his cage (today he had Tomas, Maggie, and Babs in a frenzy of territorial aggression).
Bingo apparently does have strong feelings about individuals, however. One person did tell me awhile back that she didn't think he liked her (he warmed up to her during the afternoon, though). Today a young woman dropped by to visit the small animals, and since Bingo was out, she decided to reach over and pet him. To our astonishment, he flew at her snarling! In fact, he did it twice. She said perhaps she smelled too much of cat, and proceeded to make a guinea pig happy instead.
It may indeed be that Bingo doesn't like the smell of cats, but surely he smells cat every day on the shelter workers, and he has no reputation for attacking them. With all due apologies to our visitor, I suspect that Bingo just didn't like her.
Shortly after she left, Bingo settled down for a long and rapturous petting session with a human he knows he likes.

Bingo's Non-Adoption

This afternoon I enticed Travis, just back from a semester of teaching in Minnesota, over to Animal Rescue League for an afternoon of rabbit-petting (the shelter's Hug-a-Bun Sunday). I hadn't been over there lately due to traveling and the Blackboard class, so I wasn't sure how many familiar faces I'd see.
Sophia and Charlie were still there, as was Babs and the charming spotted pair Hansel and Gretel, but who did I see in the corner cage but... Bingo!
A few weeks ago, Bingo was going into a frenzy of excitement whenever I arrived. Then he was due to be adopted. But here he was in his old spot and looking quite dejected.
Suzanne, one of the official rabbit volunteers, said that he had almost been adopted, but that the girlfriend of the guy who wanted him was much too hesitant about the project and seemed to think Bingo ought to be confined to a small area. This would have been even less appropriate for a rabbit like Bingo than for the average rabbit, so the adoption never went through.
I had, for no rational reason other than wanting Bingo myself, had a feeling that maybe the adoption wouldn't take. I'm glad to know that Suzanne and the other official volunteers (I'm completely unofficial) look out for the rabbits' best interests so carefully. Bingo needs lots of mental stimulation, much of which comes from exploring his surroundings. He's not a good candidate for life in a confined space. He loves two things: activity and petting. If he gets enough playtime, he's ready to be held and petted for long periods, but even without playtime, he needs his petting.
I petted Bingo for a good long time and then we let him roam the room while the other rabbits were petted in enclosures or on laps. He was in a better frame of mind by the end of the day, but was definitely in slow motion compared to a few weeks ago. Suzanne confirmed that the rabbits tend to get depressed if they stay in the shelter for several months, despite the best efforts of the volunteers. I'll have to make a point of visiting him more while I'm in town.
Other rabbits had some very good petting from Travis and the other attendees. A couple of rabbits were brought over in the hopes of finding companions, which was interesting to watch, but no definite matches were made. Anjou, a white rabbit, was introduced to Jubilee and briefly to Sophia, but he was more in the mood to sit on his human's lap than to meet other rabbits. It's possible he was afraid he was being brought back to the shelter to stay.
A very large rabbit--fifteen pounds so not one of the real giants but hefty nonetheless--got to meet Maggie, Jubilee, and Sophia. He was thrilled. Jubilee wasn't crazy about him but both Maggie and Sophia thought he was awfully appealing, even though he was at least three times their size. I thought it wouldn't be hard to bond him with either one of them, but his humans were really looking for a doe closer to him in size, so for the time being Maggie and Sophia will have to live without him.
Travis was much impressed with the friendly rabbits and knowledgeable humans. We agreed that we should mention the rabbit get-togethers to our colleagues, since some of them would really like a pet but feel that grad school isn't the time to get one. An afternoon spent petting shelter rabbits benefits both rabbits and humans.
When I got home, Ms. Spots indicated that she thought the number of scents on my clothes were a bit overwhelming, even though some were familiar. Orion, as usual, took no interest in all the scents and merely wanted to be petted.