The reason why you never see rabbits drinking tea is because the cups are too large. When you are small, furry, and incredibly silly, something of that size is just too unwieldy. You will end up with hot liquid all over your torso.
You are proud of your fur, it makes you look cute. And if you are a rabbit, being cute is the only thing you have going for you.
Leverage takes brains. As wells as dexterity.
The rabbits are excited enough already.
Manifestly NOT tea-drinkers.
They congregate at the local Starbucks instead, where there are flavours like mocha-raspberry frappucino, high-fructose cornsyrup hazelnut Latte bombs, and blueberry muffin soy grandes. Hot hippity bevies, plus WiFi.
If you ever wondered why those drinks come in tall paper cups with lids that have a small opening at the top for sucking, now you know. Rabbits.
It's that early morning rutting behaviour that keeps me out of the local Starbucks, what with being a sensitive man and all. I should rather find a place where calm thoughtful badgers and vibrant little weasels gather for mid-afternoon tea, except that badgers are more solitarily inclined, and weasels are very full of beans and never stick around anywhere long.
Bus to catch, shoe-store to raid, and rabbits to torment.
So much to do! So much to do!
The quiet and reserved weasel will make her own pot of tea; Darjeeling or Assam to enjoy while reading for a few hours. And the pensive badger, in his loamy dwelling, has a cup or two of fragrant keemun while devouring The Cathedral by Hugh Walpole.
The only occasion you might see them is when they wander down to the cheese shop at Polk and Pacific.
But they are too intent on snackies at that time to talk.
A hunk of Wensleydale, and some crackers.
Perhaps a little sherry.
I've run out of sherry.
Need to get another bottle.
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