Floop thwit, floop thwit!!! Un-ravioli. Hopper chopper. Ear shears.
Chop floppy. John Deere letters. Whirly birds. Fur balls. Bits and fleeces. Bunny Boner. Floppy flipper. Flopulation control.
Yes. I imagine a doggone thing like that sticks in your memory, Bunny Gunner. (And your grass bag.) It will stick in mine, now.
I personally think it's a bummer when life does stuff like that to you that you can't prevent. It's not very fair. You were minding your own business, and heck so were they, and fwoop.
It's hard not to picture it from their perspective.
"What's that noise?"
"Don't run, Silbur! It'll see you!"
FWEET WEET weet weet.
Famous last words.
Momma Rabbit comes home. "Goodness. Where are the boys?"
God put those bunnies in the grass. Well, someone did. It wasn't you, was it?
Now they're just Bummer Bunnies. Gone, except in your memory, where they truly live. I can't think of, though I try, what one should/could do after an incident like that. To try to wash out the pain. You know? To make it okay; a little better. I mean, it's so obvious it's not our fault, and yet we still feel like crap. Not very nice on the part of destiny. No sir. No syrup.
What are ya sposed to do? Run through all of the grass ("Before work, on your own time, Timpson") with a broom, scaring out the rabbits? With people watching? Bolt sets of converted metal leaf rake ground-clinging tine-flingers on an arc radius in front of the wheels? Write John Deere asking what to do? (That might be interesting.) Learn the secret Mower-Panic Call of Bunnie? (Those guys didn't know it, though.)
But sometimes an "action" makes one feel better. A ritual, of sorts. Like carving in a tree, "I never meant to hit those bunnies. Really."
I think kitties would all run away. Except Keet, who is deaf now. And old and ugly, and smelly too, so I wouldn't mind. But thank goodness you didn't have to explain that to Mrs Spaulding.
"I hit your cat."
"Is she okay?"
Lots of little rabbits are just food for other animals. You just cut up their meat for them. Which, really, is kind of maternal, parental, in a way. So you did good. You're the Bunny Butcher. The Forest's Friend.
Just a matter of perspective, you see. |
