Marco SansPolo (MSP), the relatively tiny, rat-like creature that passes for a dog in the Roth Haus, got uncharacteristically active the other day. He went all "My Ancestors Were Wolves!" on a pair of baby bunnies in our back yard.
One bunny was rendered bloody, immobile, and breathing in shallow gasps, leaving me the inglorious task of putting him out of his misery. The second seemed not so much injured as just frozen in fear.
When I bent down to give Bunny Number Two a closer look, she scampered away and, perhaps thinking it was a tunnel to a land devoid of giant bloggers, ran into an empty flower pot that was resting on its side. It was a small flower pot, but the rabbit kept working her legs as if still running away, even though her head was firmly pressed against the bottom of the flower pot.
That's when the single egg that hadn't been found by the grandkids on Easter popped out of the pot.
Beloved and I tried to be sad for the plight of the bunnies, but we couldn't stop laughing for a good two minutes.
No comments:
Post a Comment