NIMBY

Laurie came from a large, close-knit family, so backyard holiday gatherings were nothing new to her. A Labor Day barbecue with a wolf pack, that was new, for both her and Digger’s kin. The wolves kept looking askance at Digger’s other guests.

“Dog,” his fellow delta-ranker, Stefan, said in a mutter that nevertheless carried the length of Digger’s yard, “those are bunnies.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, are they appetizers or what?”

“That’s Lorelei and her buck and some of their friends. They’re cleaning out the garden for me. The growing season’s pretty much over.”

“Yeah,” Stefan said uncomfortably, “about that. The garden, okay. It’s a rabbit trap. That’s good. The flowers, I dunno, I guess if you say they’re for your she. It’s okay if you want to date a human—scat, who hasn’t?—but palling around with bunny shifters? I don’t know about that.”

“It’s not your house, or your yard, or your life. You don’t have to know about it.”

“I get that, dog. But word’s getting back to Boone.”

“Boone’s not here,” Digger said. “You want a wiener or a burger?”

He opted for the burger. No matter how they felt about the bunnies, Laurie noticed the wolves had no trouble helping themselves to Digger’s grilled venison burgers and home-made sausage. They also raved about the taste, the result of additions from Digger’s veggie and herb gardens. Laurie herself quickly adjusted to the lack of alcoholic beverages. The wolves drank beef broth and blood-based drinks. The bunnies had brought kegs of carrot juice and V-8, which they shared with Laurie. Digger even let them use the grill for their veggies. “Just don’t blame me for any meat aftertaste,” he warned them.

When Laurie first came to Talbot’s Peak, in the wake of her sister’s marriage to a grizzly shifter, she’d wondered how a human could fit in when the carnies and the herbies barely got on with each other. The bunnies here mostly kept to themselves (and the garden), but none of the wolves had tried to eat them, and a couple of brief but non-aggressive conversations had already taken place. It gave her hope for the future, in particular a future with Digger.

Until the alpha showed up.

No one had to point him out. His swagger announced his rank. The other wolves’ reaction served as Laurie’s head’s-up. Every wolf went still, like a game of Statues, then sidled away from Digger. The bunnies retreated to the veggie garden and formed a line around it.

The alpha had two betas with him, big, burly wolves who flanked him and glared the pack into submission on their leader’s behalf. None of Digger’s guests stepped up to provide similar support, so Laurie moved to Digger’s side and pointedly took his arm. The alpha flicked a glance her way, then proceeded to ignore her.

“So this is where everybody got to,” the alpha said. “What’s up, Digger? Backyard barbecue? I don’t recall getting an invitation.”

“That’s because I didn’t send you one. This is a private party, Boone. No alphas.”

“There’s no such thing as private in a pack. You know that, Digger.” He swept his glare around the yard, at the huddled bunnies in particular. “So the rumors are true. Or are they on the buffet?”

“They’re guests, Boone. You’re not. If you’re here to see throat, you’re scat out of luck. That’s only at the lodge and for pack meetings. This is my party, my yard, my guests, my turf. It’s only half an acre, but it’s mine. I’m the alpha here.” He took a step toward Boone, and Laurie went with him. “Say your good-byes and be on your way.”

Boone shook his head. “This is what we get for letting the pack spread out. The low-ranks start getting delusions. We should have stuck to communes. Those were the days. Let me refresh your memory. I’m alpha of the pack. I own you dogs. If I want to drop in unannounced for a burger, you’ll serve it up with a smile. Unless you think you can challenge me?”

“Excuse me.”

The alpha looked around, then down. Lorelei’s buck, Bobby, was big for a rabbit shifter, but still only came up to Boone’s collarbone. “On behalf of our host, and since wolves can’t even scratch fleas without orders, I’d like to invite you to go hump yourself.”

Boone sneered. “So this is the new pack you’d rather run with, instead of your own alpha. You’re a bunny, aren’t you, shorty?”

“Yep,” Bobby said. “Y’know why bunnies have big feet?”

He demonstrated without waiting for a guess. Along with big feet, Bobby had excellent aim. Laurie, herself a mistress of the time-honored knee maneuver, winced at the impact. Boone howled and hit the ground.

The betas stared nonplussed at their writhing alpha, then looked up to find themselves ringed by rabbits. The does had moved to the forefront. They flexed their long, lacquered nails. The betas swallowed hard and took a long step backward in tandem.

Digger nodded to Bobby. “Thanks.”

“Forget it. We owe you for the free salad bar. That, and you’re the only wolf in Talbot’s Peak who isn’t a dick. You like to dig. We relate.”

“Uh-huh, right. Just please don’t say those things in front of the pack again, okay? Dogs,” Digger said to the betas. “Let me get you something for the road.”

The betas left, carrying their groaning alpha and a chinette platter with three burgers and two sausages in buns. “Happy Labor Day,” Digger called after them.

With the alpha’s departure, the festive mood quickly returned to Digger’s yard. The wolves seemed a lot more at ease with the bunnies now, Laurie noticed. Maybe it was spurred by self-preservation, but hey, whatever worked.

“And now,” Digger announced, “it’s time for the traditional Labor Day touch football game. We’ll be moving the party over to the high school athletic field, where we’re going to trounce your puffy little tails.”

“In your dreams. Rabbits invented broken-field running.”

“And wolves invented teamwork. Losers clean up the yard.”

Lorelei sashayed over to Laurie and offered her a cup of juice. “Wolf or bunny,” the doe remarked, “men are always men.”

“Amen to that,” Laurie said. They clinked their plastic cups together, grinning.

Boot Scootin' Bunny...

Okay, I'll continue the bunny theme of the week.  May I introduce Reggie Rabbit - a misunderstood and maligned Miss from the Doomed Love Club.

~~

Reggie walked down Main Street, her well worn and much loved cowboy boots slapping to a beat only she could hear.  Her nose twitched on more than one occasion even though she’d given strict cease and desist instructions to the little bugger.  Where she was going, any outward signs of her shifter nature would not be welcome. 

As luck would have it spring had sprung into the mid-seventies weather yesterday—a perfect put a smile on your face day.  The kind of smile Reggie needed desperately these days.  Unfortunately, today brought back the low forties, typical for this time of the year, but it froze the fluffy little tail under her short, gauzy – perfect for spring – skirt she’d chosen for this adventure.   

Valentine’s Day had sucked, the day after sucked, the week after sucked and the week after that sucked, as well.  Lately, all of her weeks sucked, but today would change that—as long as she no one asked her where she was going.  Reggie hated to lie, loathed to lie if the truth be known, yet everyone she knew instinctively thought the worst of her.  Years ago, the town had decided she was a lying Lolita and the reputation held, though wholly undeserved.

“Regiiiina Teluska, out and about, in such an inappropriate outfit…considering the weather and all.”

Meriym ‘The Perfectly Putrid’ Link, Mayor’s cousin and the bane of Reggie’s existence all the way through school, drew out her name just as she had in high school.  Regiiiina the vagina her detested nickname all four years lingered on, even into adulthood.  Kids were cruel, but Meriym was vicious.  It probably had a lot to do with Reggie stealing Meriym’s boyfriend, but in her own defense she’d not known they were still dating.  The dweeb had lied to her and she’d fallen for it—hook, line and carrot.

Reggie continued to walk—as she’d always done—away from the mean-spirited ape.  She didn’t have time to engage the lice picker in a war of words, nor did she want to bring herself down before the audition.

“Ooh, is Regiiiina gonna ignore me?”

Cadillac, black jack, baby take me outback…   Reggie fought to keep the tune in her head over the snark coming from Ms. Putrid.  She slowed at the corner and continued to ignore her unwanted entourage.

“A bus stop…  Oh, is it too much to hope you’ve finally decided to take your slutty bunny butt to a different town and leave our good men alone?”

…We’re gonna boogie. The song continued and her toes tapped as she filtered the dance steps through her head.  She would not be pulled into this woman’s spitefulness.  She had more important things to think about…like the possibility of a job, dancing at the new hunter bar that went up across the county line.

“Well?  Are you going to answer me, Regiiiina.”

Reggie bit the inside of her lip so as not to laugh at the other woman’s angst.  The truth was Meriym might be quite likeable if she would find some self-confidence and a scrap of decency. Hell Reggie might even like her if Ms. Putrid would get laid by a non cheating man once in a while.  Not that it mattered one bit; Meriym could never like herself long enough for that to happen.

As the bus pulled up to the corner, Reggie shot the unhappy monkey her best ‘I’m bored now’ look and boarded the bus out of town.  She made her way to the back, knowing full well she was breaking a rule that every alpha in town, male and female alike, had imposed upon the betas on down. 

‘Do not go near the hunter’s new bar!’   

She had to though.  If she wanted her life to change she needed to grab the bull by the horns—not an easy task with some of the brutes she knew—and make it so.  She’d considered approaching the  always fair Dante about adding a night or two of country music to the dance club, then offering to set the mood with some line dancing and yee hawing.  However, since the town males refused to come near her anymore for fear of their women’s wrath, she hated to put the big man in such a crappy position.

The bus rumbled beneath Reggie’s feet and Meriym became smaller and smaller in the back window.  She could do this.  She could fool a room full of hunter’s into thinking she was nothing more than human, she thought.  Even as her little bunny nose twitched.

~~

 Reggie, Reggie, Reggie...

May ya'll find a little boot scootin' of your own this weekend!  Yee Haw!

Serena

One Man's Trash ...

“Scat, not again.” Digger upended the cage trap and dumped his “catch” onto the lawn. The fluffy bunny righted itself and glared up at him over such disrespectful treatment. “You might as well switch,” he told the rabbit. “I don’t eat sentients. Lucky for you my nose can tell the difference.”

The rabbit fastidiously brushed its paws over its long, silky fur, straightened up on its hind legs and shifted into a petite golden blonde with curvy hips and big feet. She continued to brush dirt and dew off her skin, all the while growling in a most unrabbitty manner.

“A trap?” she snapped at the wolf, with a curt gesture at the offending apparatus. “You use traps?”

“Sometimes I don’t feel like chasing my dinner. Which is real rabbits, not you guys. You should know better than to raid a wolf’s garden anyway. Look, there’s a sign right there.”

“Since when do wolves grow veggies?” the rabbit retorted, pointedly ignoring the prominent “Herbies keep out, this means YOU” sign right behind her. “You probably don’t even eat half this stuff.”

“No, but the things I do eat love it. So does the human I’m dating. Oh, get that look off your face. Everybody dates a human at least once. Mine likes salads and home-made spaghetti, so stay away from the tomatoes.”

The rabbit eyed the rows of lettuce slyly. “She can’t eat that much. What happens to the rest of it? You just let it rot?”

Digger glared at the sassy bunny. “Okay, just this once. Take what you want and get out, before I haul you inside for breakfast, and not in a good way, either.”

# # #

Lorelei hustled home with her booty, an armful of Romaine lettuce. She had big plans for both the lettuce and the evening. Tonight was her anniversary with her boyfriend Bobby, and she intended to make the party unforgettable.

She probably shouldn’t have been so hard on the wolf for liking to play in the dirt. Everyone should have a hobby. Lorelei’s was creating her own garments, using her own fur—a major advantage to being an Angora rabbit. She’d been wondering what kind of dress to sew to tantalize Bobby with when her nose had drawn her to the wolf’s garden, and inspiration struck.

She added a little skip to her gait as she dashed through the woods to her cottage. She didn’t have much time. If all went well, this would be a dinner to remember.

# # #

“Hey, baby.” Bobby breezed into Lorelei’s cottage and tossed his leather jacket over a chair. Knowing Lorelei’s appetites, the rest of his outfit would probably join it before they got halfway through dinner. “Your big bad buck is here.”

“Just a minute,” Lorelei sang from the kitchen. “I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner.”

Bobby flopped onto the sofa and began to loosen his belt. He knew that tone in Lorelei’s voice. Among rabbits, “hello” counted as foreplay. “What are we having?”

Lorelei stepped out of the kitchen and posed provocatively in the doorway. “Greens.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped. She’d made herself a skimpy minidress that just barely covered the hot bunny bits—all out of broad lettuce leaves. A ring of ranch dressing around her neck and down into her cleavage served in lieu of a necklace. She twirled to give him the full effect. “What do you think?”

Bobby had already stopped thinking with his upper head. He bounded off the sofa and over to Lorelei and took in a deep-lunged sniff. “Farm fresh,” he pronounced huskily. “Where’d you get this? Not from the supermarket.”

“Some wolf’s put in a veggie plot. He’s growing it for his girlfriend or something.” She waved a leaf of her “bra” under his nose. “You like?”

“Me like.” The big buck nibbled at her Romaine bodice. His tongue kept slipping off the greens and onto her bosom. Lorelei didn’t complain. “So this is dinner?”

“This is dinner. Once you finish your vegetables … ” She tore a strip off her skirt and chewed on it suggestively. “Then you get dessert.”

He buried his nose in the dressing dripping between her boobs. “Here’s to vegetarianism.”