I had what I thought was some very sad news to share with you about Carol, the bunny that lives beside our house in the winter. I had already been preparing myself for this bad news, because when Ellie and I were at an exotic animal show at the library this summer, one of the presenters mentioned offhandedly that wild bunnies usually only live for a couple of years, so I reminded myself of this fact a few times in the fall, taking comfort in the fact that we got to see her for three winters and that was probably more than I could have reasonably expected anyway. One day last week as Luna and I came home from our walk, she was sniffing and pulling rather insistently in the direction of a snowdrift at the end of our neighbour’s driveway, and I discovered there was a pair of bunny hind legs sticking out from the snow. Without going into too much graphic detail, foul play was definitely suspected. By me. Although I didn’t get too close, for obvious reasons.
After I dropped Ellie off the next morning and had to flap my arms and shriek “LEAVE CAROL ALONE!” to some menacing crows perched hungrily on top of the snowbank, Mike called animal control and they removed the body. I was really sad about the whole situation. Out of habit, every time I was at the sink in the kitchen, I glanced out the window to look for Carol, and then yesterday, she was there! I gasped so loudly I scared Mike. I was very relieved and continue to think about it with joy. So instead of a sad story about Carol, I have a sad story about another dead bunny. Merry Christmas!