Hello everyone! Right after the seven 12-hour days as a "Crash Test Dummy" I started full-time in the local Lowe's garden center. Stop by if you're in the area! Anyway, still haven't had the chance to put together my notes and write about the testing experience. Since this week is Easter, I thought you would enjoy a story that occurred (and was written) on an Easter Eve long, long ago...
"Darby Creek Down"
My husband Mark has a string of working Jack Russell Terriers. I’ve had many adventures (often unpleasant) with them. Here is my latest sad, but true, tale that could be a “Watership Down’s” sequel. Get a tissue!
It was a sunny “Easter Eve” Saturday. I was doing my spring yard work in the flowerbeds up against the house. I often allow Ivy our 8 ½ year old female to join me. She has finally decided if she’s alone she would rather hang out at home than take off (or at least she comes back shortly.) I had Tucker our stud dog in the triple fenced (and electrified) backyard.
I was finishing up when I noticed I hadn’t seen Ivy in a few minutes and started to call for her. (Doesn’t usually do any good, but it’s a habit.) I walked around the house to the daylily bed and much to my horror Ivy had a baby bunny in her mouth. Three other bunnies were scrambling away. One however, chose to hop through the fence to the waiting Tucker (who couldn’t believe his luck…that was a very “dumb bunny.”) There was nothing I could do but shut my eyes. I called a reluctant Ivy (now aka “Ms. Bunny Breath) and put her in her pen. Tucker (Mr. Bunny Breath) was loping around carrying his prize. He has got to quit playing with his food!
First, I had to decide what to do with the two live bunnies I managed to save. I put them in a bucket and carried them back to the field hoping they would eventually run into mom and dad bunny. Not realistic, but the best I could do. Meanwhile, my eight-year-old son Taylor came outside. He said, “I hope one of those wasn’t the Easter Bunny!” I assured him the Easter Bunny was white and these were wild brown bunnies.
Now then, what to do with the two dead ones Ivy got? I decided to leave them until Mark returned. I don’t do dead or bloody and this was both. Mark came home a few minutes later and disposed of four, not just two, bunnies. (I told you my eyes were shut.). Ivy isn’t the hunting diva for nothing. If you are keeping score, that is now five dead rabbits.
Later in the house I told Taylor he had better get back to cleaning his room or the Easter Bunny wasn’t coming. He said, “Mom, why would he come here now? He knows the dogs will tear him limb to limb!” I told him not to worry and clean his room anyway.
That evening I came home to find out that the death toll had risen to six. Apparently, there was another living bunny who wandered into the backyard and my golden retriever Jordan (now “big Bunny Breath”) got it. I asked him if it really “tastes like chicken.”
After telling some friends about the massacre the next morning one said, “Geez, remind me not to be at your place Christmas! I can just see a ton of little elf carcasses with their little hats lying around in the snow….” (Author’s note: Don’t worry. Dogs will be in lock down Christmas Eve!!!)
Until next time, I wish you a very Happy Easter!
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