Rabbit Goobers


So today I ended up working from home.  It’s payroll and I have a ton of other stuff that needs doing, all computer-based, and our favorite siding-wallah Kenny was coming to do some stuff to the house.  (More on that later)  So if I’m going to be chained to a desk, it might as well be at home, right?

Eventually I stumbled blearily into the kitchen to fire up the French press for some of Mama’s Special Coffee (French roast with a heaping tablespoon of cocoa powder — sooo good).  It takes the water a few minutes to boil so I wandered over to the back slider to enjoy the bucolic Monday morning backyardiness of the whole thing.

And then I spied what looked at first, judging by color and size, like a deceased squirrel languishing on the cement of the back patio.


Then I looked again, because who couldn’t?  And found that no, it was not a squirrel.  It was a poor sweet little fuzzy wuzzy brown baby bunny rabbit.

With a precious little fuzzy white tail.

And also: no head.

At first I thought that maybe the deceased had been there a while, judging from the parade of local insect life to-ing and fro-ing all over the furry little corpse, and this gave me solace.  For this morning one of the cats had come into the house and insinuated himself into the bedroom, rolling all over me and rubbing what were probably fresh rabbit goobers all over my face.  If the body had been there for a while, it probably wasn’t Mr. At Least He’s Decorative.  He’s fairly incompetent so it would have to be a baby rabbit suffering from brain damage anyway, to end up in his bumbling clutches.

So, I surmised, it was probably the other manly male cat.  (I’m excluding our female cat Hermione only because she rarely leaves the house long enough to make any difference, and I’ve never seen her chase anything more interesting than a spider.)   Mr. Manly Man Cat did crash for an extended period yesterday afternoon on a shirt that had missed the laundry basket in our room.  Perhaps he’d had a lengthy chase with the bunny and then had to drag its lifeless body back to the patio.  Yeah, that was probably it.

Then I realized that The Lovely Rhonda had fed the dog last night and surely would have noticed a hairy little stiff on the patio, right?

So yeah.  I’m not sure I’ll ever feel clean again.

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