Look at All These Bunnies!

Oh hey there, it’s me—Brigette. Yes, Brigette.The Basset hound extraordinaire, rabbit chaser by trade, napper by passion. Let me tell you about the absolute chaos that unfolded in my yard this morning. Buckle up, it’s a wild ride. Or, well, a moderately brisk trot.

So I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, birds chirping, and I’m still in that glorious post-dream haze where I’m chasing rabbits in slow motion and somehow winning. I stretch, I yawn (it’s a full-body event), and I step outside like the queen I am. And what do I see?
Rabbits. Everywhere. Like someone opened a bunny buffet and forgot to tell me. There’s one doing a little hop-hop near the rose bush. Another just straight-up lounging on my patio like he pays rent. I swear one winked at me. The disrespect.

Now, as a basset, I am genetically engineered to hunt rabbits. It’s in my blood. My ancestors were legends. But let’s be honest—first thing in the morning? I’m basically a furry pancake with legs. I gave them my best “I’ll get you later” glare and flopped down for a pre-chase nap.

Fast forward to mid-morning. I’m awake. I’m alert. I’ve had my kibble. I’m READY.
I launch myself across the yard like a majestic, low-flying sausage. My ears are flapping, my nose is locked in, and I am in the zone. The rabbits scatter like popcorn in a hot pan. I’m gaining on one. I can taste victory. And suddenly, it turns left…..

I do not turn left. I sort of… slide. Gracefully. Into a bush.
The rabbit’s gone. Again. Probably writing a memoir about how it escaped the sleepy basset with delusions of grandeur.
But listen—I’m not giving up. Tomorrow’s a new day. I’ll rise. I’ll stretch. I’ll chase. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll catch one. Or at least corner it long enough to ask where it gets those adorable little feet.

🐾 Yours in floppy-eared determination,
Brigette the Bounding Basset