Meet the grim reaper:
Right. Not much to look at, I know. At least in terms of threat.
But let me back up a little.
Two years ago we rescued a dog that looks frighteningly similar to a dingo. Within days, the dingo began behaving like she had always been part of the family. Rescued from a concrete prison, days away from euthanasia, she followed us around and lavished love upon us. She was obviously grateful for her new life, and new family, and she took on the role of self-appointed protector of the kingdom.
Now since it’s not much of a kingdom, per se, but more of a modest suburban house with a medium-sized back yard, her role was significantly reduced from warding off grizzly bears and rabid porcupines, to merely keeping feral cats or stray opossums from getting near the trashcans at the side of the house.
But since she loves us SOOOOOO MUCH, even that miniscule job was taken very, very seriously.
Because, see, even in suburbia, you just never know when some shit is gonna go down.
So when she wasn’t busy guarding this:
Or doing this:
Then she was doing this:
And as a result, you may remember this post, wherein there is a bird casualty.
So really, it should come as no surprise to anyone, least of all me, when I find myself having the following text exchange with hubs:
But no. See, hubs is just as much a wussy as I am.
So now we had a very mangled and distraught wild rabbit, in a bucket, in our bathtub, and hubs had to go get Connor from school.
And I was at work.
So first I called an after-hours vet clinic, but they told me they don’t treat rabbits and directed me to call wildlife rescue. So then I called wildlife rescue, and they said an injured wild rabbit would probably not survive long because, apparently, they don’t manage stress well and basically give themselves fatal heart attacks. But they said they could come get it, so I called hubs.
Hubs had picked up Connor, and put a movie on for him. He said he went to check on Thumper, but in the 15 minutes he was gone, Thumper’s ticker had given out.
And so while Connor watched a movie, unbeknownst to him, hubs was disposing of the body.
When I got home, the dingo greeted me at the door by dancing around like a cheap Bangkok hooker.
No offense to Bangkok hookers. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
Presently, the death scorecard looks something like this:
It’s hard not to feel bad that all this bloodshed happens because she loves us SOOOOOOO much. And she wants to protect us. You know, from rabbits. And birds. At least there was a snake in there, right? It kind of evens it all out.
But still, sometimes it feels like we adopted Tony Soprano.