Rabbits
I was in the fourth grade, Mrs. Kosek's class, the same class where we made the solar system models that I found out in the past few years that couldn't possibly be to scale, you just can't do it, when we found the babies.
My brother and I were traipsing about the woods getting filthy and thwarting off enemy intruders when we stumbled upon a rabbit nest. Little crying, squealing milk chocolate colored puff balls filled a hole in a pricker bush. We quickly took to touching each and every baby bunny we could knowing full well the steadfast knowledge that their mother would return to the nest, take one good sniff of them and say, "You little shits! I told you to stay away from humans! I'm done with you!" would cause the state to leave them in our custody. I think I actually licked a few of them for good measure. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.....
We ran back to the house arms loaded with baby rabbits, a dozen in all, well that's how many made it back to our house, Lord knows how many we dropped along the way. Mom was of course mildly irritated that we were in the house and not doing chores, we had jobs and if our job were done our part-time job was to be outside. She took one look at the bunnies and said, "Oh Jesus Christ! Well now you've done it! Their mother will disown them and they will starve to death, I hope you're proud of yourselves!!!" I was crying by this point, but my brother, the consummate con-artist knew to hold steady. After a few minutes my mother turned into a baby rabbit triage nurse and began making the necessary arrangements.
A playpen that was used to cage me in my early years was hauled up from the basement and erected in the dining room. Eyedroppers were cleaned out and boiled for feedings and the dining room light in it's red glass shade and crystal droplet glory was tuned to dim.
We spent the evening feeding the babies and trying not to wake the monster living inside of my father that wanted to breath fire on the three of us embecils and our twelve little bastards. He, being raised on a farm, saw no need, want or purpose in saving wild rabbits. I thought I heard him mumble the word 'stew' but that was it.
We happily kept the bunnies and everything was progressing along nicely until I came home from school on Friday with my best friend Lisa in tow to spend the night eating pizza and talking about boys and found a hole chewed through the mesh playpen and no bunnies in site. We spent the next two hours on an Easter egg hunt for bunnies, how ironic? We were amazed at how far they made it. Behind the TV in the living room? Nice job! Into the laundry room? Check! Upstairs? Why not little dude! The last little rodent was found in the volume pedal of the organ (another blog, another time).
After the escape Dad took over and explained how it was in everyone's best interest to let the little guys and dolls go free. Yes most would probably be eaten by foxes, but that was life so stop crying for Christ's sake! Dad was just like Mr. Rogers that way, kind and sensitive. We set the bunnies free, but they didn't dart off like I expected, they just sat their looking at us like, "What the frig are we supposed to do NOW?" I worried about them missing the red wall to wall carpet and gold-veined mirrors that lined the stairway or the paneling, it was all very 70s and I was certain they didn't know what they had, just like my brother and I didn't, ungrateful little poops that we were. I sat and talked to them explaining that they had to go on their own and make families and grand bunnies until I fell asleep in the grass, filthy dirty and thwarting off enemies in my dreams.
My brother and I were traipsing about the woods getting filthy and thwarting off enemy intruders when we stumbled upon a rabbit nest. Little crying, squealing milk chocolate colored puff balls filled a hole in a pricker bush. We quickly took to touching each and every baby bunny we could knowing full well the steadfast knowledge that their mother would return to the nest, take one good sniff of them and say, "You little shits! I told you to stay away from humans! I'm done with you!" would cause the state to leave them in our custody. I think I actually licked a few of them for good measure. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.....
We ran back to the house arms loaded with baby rabbits, a dozen in all, well that's how many made it back to our house, Lord knows how many we dropped along the way. Mom was of course mildly irritated that we were in the house and not doing chores, we had jobs and if our job were done our part-time job was to be outside. She took one look at the bunnies and said, "Oh Jesus Christ! Well now you've done it! Their mother will disown them and they will starve to death, I hope you're proud of yourselves!!!" I was crying by this point, but my brother, the consummate con-artist knew to hold steady. After a few minutes my mother turned into a baby rabbit triage nurse and began making the necessary arrangements.
A playpen that was used to cage me in my early years was hauled up from the basement and erected in the dining room. Eyedroppers were cleaned out and boiled for feedings and the dining room light in it's red glass shade and crystal droplet glory was tuned to dim.
We spent the evening feeding the babies and trying not to wake the monster living inside of my father that wanted to breath fire on the three of us embecils and our twelve little bastards. He, being raised on a farm, saw no need, want or purpose in saving wild rabbits. I thought I heard him mumble the word 'stew' but that was it.
We happily kept the bunnies and everything was progressing along nicely until I came home from school on Friday with my best friend Lisa in tow to spend the night eating pizza and talking about boys and found a hole chewed through the mesh playpen and no bunnies in site. We spent the next two hours on an Easter egg hunt for bunnies, how ironic? We were amazed at how far they made it. Behind the TV in the living room? Nice job! Into the laundry room? Check! Upstairs? Why not little dude! The last little rodent was found in the volume pedal of the organ (another blog, another time).
After the escape Dad took over and explained how it was in everyone's best interest to let the little guys and dolls go free. Yes most would probably be eaten by foxes, but that was life so stop crying for Christ's sake! Dad was just like Mr. Rogers that way, kind and sensitive. We set the bunnies free, but they didn't dart off like I expected, they just sat their looking at us like, "What the frig are we supposed to do NOW?" I worried about them missing the red wall to wall carpet and gold-veined mirrors that lined the stairway or the paneling, it was all very 70s and I was certain they didn't know what they had, just like my brother and I didn't, ungrateful little poops that we were. I sat and talked to them explaining that they had to go on their own and make families and grand bunnies until I fell asleep in the grass, filthy dirty and thwarting off enemies in my dreams.
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