We found the Easter Bunny (or perhaps one of his offspring) on our back patio this morning. Dead. There was no basket of brightly colored eggs, marshmallow Peeps or other evidence of tomorrow’s happy holiday. Just a dead baby rabbit, lying there with its eyes open. So maybe it wasn’t the real Easter Bunny. But the timing is awfully suspicious.
Bruce doesn’t think Salsa did it – this time (remind me to tell you about the other time). I’m not so sure. She was the one who had been out running around like a demon before Bruce got up. And she has killed before.
It doesn’t matter who did it. The important thing is that we discovered it before it started to smell like a dead bunny. I don’t know if I would have been able to scoop it up if it had been stinky. I am known to gag at such atrocities.
But it was fresh yard-kill – so fresh that I was half expecting it to move when I touched it with the shovel. Its eyes were wide open, after all. Thank the Lord, it didn’t move.
I triple bagged it (hey, there really is an appropriate use for plastic bags!), knotted the bags tightly, placed Little Bunny in the car and took him to the local animal shelter. The woman there didn’t bat an eye when she came to the door. I said, “My dog killed the Easter Bunny,” and she simply replied, “I’ll take care of it for you.” She took the bag, I expressed my appreciation, and she closed the door.
Thank you, North Little Rock Animal Shelter Lady. You spared me a lot of unpleasantness.
So was it the Easter Bunny, or one of his family members, in that plastic bag?
Report back to me if your colored eggs don’t show up tomorrow morning as expected. Then we’ll know for sure.