It was over so fast I didn’t even have time to get the camera, so I am illustrating this story with a similar photo from my recent past. similar baby rabbit

I had just finished cooking my dinner (technically I was having my dessert first, but all together it would’ve been dinner).

I hear squeaking and see Allie the cat coming onto the porch at a pretty good clip.

Carrying a baby rabbit…

She started—shaking it vigorously. Part of me is thinking “Oh, so THAT’S how they do it,” the horrified part of me is saying “On the porch AGAIN?!” and another part of me is just squealing and hopping up & down.

I called my sister 1st, but I don’t know why—-she’s on vacation eating shrimp by the beach, and of course didn’t answer her phone.

Then I called my behind-me neighbors, clearly—um—distressed, and say something like “My cat caught a baby rabbit and has just walked by the BRED-TO-BE-A-RABBIT-HUNTER beagle, who’s obliviously gnawing on a marrow bone. Do you have a kid or 2 who can come over?”

I could hear the laughter through the walls of their house.

So the dad or mom (I was upset & it was a voice—I didn’t pay attention to the details) asks the youngest daughter if she wants to come over, and WHILE I’M ON THE PHONE (probably caused by my girly squealing), Girl the Beagle looks up, comes onto the porch, takes the rabbit from Allie and brings it outside and starts sniffing and licking it. Then she lies down and the meal began.

I tell Dad/Mom to tell the kids it’s gonna be a recovery, not a rescue, operation. We hang up with me begging them and thanking them.

How humiliating for a 44 year-old woman. Who can and does, BTW, get rid of m/voles all by herself, and do other grownup things, thank you very much. I just don’t do snakes, squirrels or squeaking baby rabbits. We all have our limits.

I say (in my best “I am your COMMANDER” voice) “LEAVE IT,” but the stupid dog (who I give credit for even listening) picks up the rabbit and starts coming towards me with it.

I am clearly not too proud to admit this, but I ran went inside and slammed closed the door.

I called neighbors back—usually they all just hop over the fence, so I suspect they’re walking around the block, and get the mom, who says the dad is on the way w/the girls. I ask her if she’ll stay on the phone with me because OH MY GOD, Girl is EATING THE RABBIT. TEARING ITS LIMBS, GNAWING ON IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, that about sent her over, laughter-wise, but once I convinced her I wasn’t kidding she was quite supportive. I said how great it is that their girls are so “interested” in this, and she remarked how funny it was that they’re vegetarians yet this doesn’t bother them in the least.

I must’ve said ‘thank you for staying on the phone with me’ about 500 times.

I kept her apprised, moment by moment, horrified squeal by horrified squeal that it was gonna be too late. At this rate there would be nothing for them to recover, and darned if I wasn’t right. She ate it down like it was a freakin’ Greenie.

And when Allie—the cat without front claws who caught the da** thing—came over to just sniff, Girl BARKED at her! Can you believe the nerve of that dog???!!! Girl the Beagle acted like she was the one who’d done all the work.

Finally, after what seemed like a good 2.34 hours minutes they all arrived, one of them in a dress-up dress, the other with mismatched shoes, both adorable as always, dad walking after them.

I told them the current situation but that made them just more eager to see it (can you tell this is completely foreign to me?). They ran in, with the dad pointing out (literally) what Girl was doing and pulling apart, and the girls excitedly telling me “There’s blood!” I stopped listening—I just had to.

Just like that—there was nothing left and they were ready to leave. I asked that they check to make sure I wouldn’t find little eyeballs on the ground or something, but was reassured there was nothing left.

Although I pointed out the blood on the porch they looked but didn’t offer to clean it up. Both the dog and the cat went to look too, so I hope it’s gone by tomorrow.

On my stove, on the other hand, is a delicious dinner that will go uneaten tonight, a bowl of melted sherbet on the counter, a dog who’s sleeping it off, and a “poor” Allie cat just wandering around wondering what the hell went wrong…

…me too…