Wednesday morning won't be repeated on Thursday morning!

Home sweet home! Bugsy's condo and private yard is done.
He has a home and I have put away my vacuum sweeper. I want Bugsy to live outside. This little project is now at a little over 100.00. How did this happen? This bunny is not supposed to live in Lafayette. His home was to be the small town of Lydia. The husband has spent two days on this little project. Carrie was excited to see it when she got home from school yesterday. Having him outside means I don't have to clean up after him.

Bugsy survived the night in his outdoor home; the morning was another matter. A board was put over the exit opening in his house after we put him in it last night. We can't let him roam his small run; his run doesn't have a roof on it and we are afraid a cat might get him during the night.

Carrie poured the pine shavings over his flooring in his condo so he could burrow in and be warm. I worried about his first night out there. Carrie went to visit him as soon as she got out of bed this morning.....and left his door open that leads out into the yard.

When I returned home and peeked out to the patio, the husband was in a stance, knees bent putting him into a crouch mode, arms outstretched. This can't be good. I recognize that stance. It's the one you take when you are going to attack something. Bugsy was on the loose, in the wind, escaped to the big yard where holes in the privacy fence could allow him ingress to a yard with dogs or cats.

I go into freak out mode. My pulse rate increases, a roar fills my ears and all I can think about is telling Carrie we have lost her bunny. Along with the adrenalin rush, another emotion arises. Anger. Anger that I'm out chasing a damn bunny once again.

He hops to places he knows I can't get to unless I lay flat on my belly to reach him and as soon as I get into that position, he skips away. I'm sure he is giggling but so quietly I can't hear him.
"You little bastard!" I screech. "Damn you!" and then my voice goes from a screech to a soft whine "Here bunny, here bunny. Come here." I softly croon. This had no effect on the bunny. He loves his freedom.

I finally capture him beneath the BBQ pit. I'm carefully not squeezing him so hard he can't breath. That wouldn't be right to choke him to death but the thought has crossed my mind. I now have to struggle from a belly lying position to my feet with a bunny in one hand.

He is unceremoniously dumped into his little house and the door is checked to make sure it is secure; a great way to start the day.

He exits the house through the back opening taking him into his run. Running around the perimeter of this pen, he checks for any place he might use for an escape.

I plan on having a little talk with Carrie on the finer points of securing his door from his condo to the yard. I can't be chasing a bunny.