You know what SHOULD be better than a snake in the yard?
You know what, oddly, ISN’T better than a snake in the yard?
You know why?
Here’s what happened:
This morning I went out to check on the flowers that I planted on the outside of our fence when I saw, right smack in the middle of the flowers, a bunny:
A cute little baby bunny reminiscent of the bunnies I used to get in my yard back in St. Louis when all they had to fear was a fat Chihuahua with a bad heart. The kind of bunny we never get in our yard here because woodland animals far and wide point their paws at our fence and talk in hushed whispers about the squirderer behind the walls.
Unfortunately, this bunny either didn’t get the memo or he is not the wisest wabbit in the warren.
It is interesting to note that "wabbit" is NOT a typo. I’m just a helpless slave to alliteration…but I digress…
The point is, the bunny decided that our yard is eight kinds of awesome and sometime this morning wandered his way inside.
Which I didn’t realize until I opened the door to let The Bub outside.
Luckily, the lawn guy had just mowed so Bubba was intent on running out and rolling in as much dried grass as caninely possible and he didn’t immediately notice the bunny.
Unluckily, the lawn guy had just mowed so Bubba—clearly still miffed that I hadn’t let him out earlier to eat the lawn guy—decided to pretend he couldn’t hear me calling his name and ordering him back into the house.
Seriously, he is turning into the worst lying liar of a dog.
Anyway, that’s when I decided to unpack the big guns and run out to the yard while offering him a treat. And the stupid bunny says to himself "Treat? I could go for a treat.” And hops closer.
Which is when Bubba saw him.
I will now pause and let you imagine all the things that could go horribly wrong with that scenario.
Now try to imagine Bub and I engaged in a little game called “Bunny Ball.” In which Bubba is tearing around the yard after the bunny and I—clearly playing defense—am flinging myself between him and the bunny, screaming his name, cursing and literally physically blocking him at every turn.
How I did this in flip-flops without breaking a leg is a mystery for the ages.
Meanwhile the stupid bunny didn’t realize that he wasn’t just playing ball, he WAS the ball, and instead of looking for a way to escape was scampering around the yard like the dumbest bunny to ever draw breath.
And it was only through the divine intervention of some guardian angel of bunnies that I somehow managed to grab The Bub around the waist and wrestle him in the house.
I went back outside and tried to convince the bunny that he is, in the eyes of big dogs everywhere, food. And he should scurry along for safer pastures.
The bunny was unimpressed.
Then I tried to explain to the bunny that not only was the carrot section of the garden a poor hiding place but also reinforced the worst bunny stereotypes and that in the interest of species sensitivity, he should go somewhere else.
Unfortunately, that particular bunny is incredibly self-involved and could not care less about species stereotypes.
I even went so far as to get the hose and spray the bunny with a little water…I mean, I didn’t put it on jet because it really is a tiny bunny and I didn’t want to practically waterboard it after all the trouble I went to to rescue it from Bubba but come on! Even a little water should have sent any reasonable bunny packing.
Not this bunny.
This stupid bunny decided he had discovered the best bunny bath of all times and is EVEN NOW still in the garden.
And in case you think I’m exaggerating the ridiculous overconfidence of the bunny in question, please note that I have not only sent a picture of the bunny in the garden, I have included a picture of the bunny GROOMING ITSELF even AFTER it was chased all over the yard by the Bub.
So, I had to come in to work, the bunny is still in the garden and Bubba is not speaking to me.