Slightly before 6am yesterday morning I let the dogs outside to do their business before I left for work. Within moments Wellesley was trotting back to the sliding glass door, tail waggin’ with a mouthful of…rabbit.
I yelled for him to drop it and that is when I knew the rabbit, who I named Stewey, wasn’t dead yet. Wellesley isn’t the brightest crayon in the box so it is no wonder he didn’t have the natural instinct to shake Stewey to break his neck to put him out of his misery. Coda caught many rabbits when he lived in NY and he was a pro. Wells dropped the rabbit on the step outside the door and Coda, proud big brother that is, started wagging his stub of a tail as if he caught Stewey himself.
I hate to see an animal suffering but I also couldn’t bring myself to put him out of his misery so I did what any girl would do. I woke my husband up and told him to deal with it.
Bob dragged both dogs to the bathroom to wash their faces off, and I promptly left for work. Bob said by the time he finished bathing the dogs, the rabbit had passed away on its own time, so he threw it into the field behind out house so coyotes or hawks could feast.
Now the Easter Bunny police are after Wellesley for rabbit-slaughter so I’ve enrolled him in the witness protection program. They’ll never find him. Her.
We let Coda in on the secret of his undercover brother and he was shocked and appalled. “You mean I’m kissing my BROTHER?! Gross!”
