We’re So Sorry, Mr. Rabbit
As you read this post, please quietly hum the melody for that old Beatles’ favorite, “We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert.”
Several months ago Tom stormed into the house ranting and raving about some sort of crisis in the backyard. He demanded that I drop everything and follow him to view the huge catastrophe that had been visited upon us. I could hardly keep a straight face because he looks so cute when he’s livid - bulging neck veins, flushed face, clinched jaw; all this combined with the mush-mouthed spewing and sputtering. He stomped around the side of the house to an area by the back gate. When he stopped he pointed to a small cactus garden that he refers to as “the nursery.” It is here that he gently nurses pieces that have fallen from other cactus. He has an amazing success rate. This is what had caused his apoplexy.
Some sort of varmint had been chowing down on his babies. Without thinking, I suggested that maybe a javelina had caused the damage. I guess he thought I was being a smart-ass, because he replied, “Did this javalina jump the fence or unlatch the gate?” SCOWL. SCOWL.
Tom created a tiny contemplation garden to honor my donor. We call it the “Perpetua Garden.” Several weeks ago he planted beautiful roses under a mosaic of The Virgin of Guadalupe.
You guessed it. The mad chomper strikes again.
At this point Tom decided that rabbits must be the culprits. We have tons of ground squirrels and chipmunks in the yard, but Tom thought the bites and teeth marks were too big for these cute little guys to be blamed. Before Tom could launch a full attack (guns, traps, ground to air missiles, poison) on every rabbit that dared to cross our yard, our friend Randy suggested the R word. RATS. Dirty flippin’ RATS. Well ……………
Randy was right. By the way, this rat died of natural causes. He collapsed when he saw Tom brandishing a machete.
