So you know the tale of An A Bunnies, circa 2008. And you know that here in 2015, just minutes before 12 people showed up at my house for dinner, Bagel-Dog discovered a skunk living under the garden shed and took a big blast of Smell right in his face.
Here is what you do not know: Between 2008 and 2010, Bagel enthusiastically caught and held 3 or maybe 4 more An A Bunnies. We would hear Ansley trumpeting out triumphant barkings, and we would run to the yard to see Bagel standing mystified and weirded out with a rabbit in his mouth.
The rabbits were to a Lapin all fainted and damp and sure they were dead. We would go peel the moistened little fellows out of his face, and they would blink and drunkenly hop away, not understanding how they were alive. They were like the rabbit versions of THIS guy:
But. Alas. Then. One day. During the “snatching up An a Bunnies in his maw” part. The Inevitable happened. Bagel accidentally…pierced one a little.
Now, Bagel is literally the stupidest animal alive. Inside his head is white noise and joy, and that is all. He is like moss with feet.
But when he accidentally pierced the an a bunnies, he came to understand that the running thing he’d felt so compelled to chase and grab was actually a form of very fast food.
This was just a TERRIBLE discovery. TERRIBLE.
I remember the first time Ansley came panting and foaming and capering and leaping to the back door, barking and wagging, SO PROUD. In dog whole body language she was saying: I PROCLAIM THE MIGHT AND WISDOM OF MY ALPHA! FOR HE HATH CAUGHT THE RUNNING FOOD, AND LO, IT IS FOR EATING! SOON IT WILL BE MY TURN! COME AND SEE THE GLORY, THE GLORY OF BAGEL.
So we went out to see what had Ansley all lathery and smug, and the scene the flashlight picked out of the darkness was of course very terrible. One bad part was the dear and stupid worried face of Bagel. He was absolutely PANICKING. And GUILT SOAKED.
HELP ME, his desperate face said. HELP ME I CAN’T STOP EATING THIS AND SOMEHOW I KNOW IT IS WRONG TO BE EATING IT HELP ME I CANNOT STOP. All the while, Ansley capered and gibbered around him OUT OF HER TINY MIND with delight, completely unrepentant and eager for a go. I shall draw a veil over this and simply tell you that I went inside. Scott helped him stop eating it.
Now I will provide you with some information, mercifully using NO imagery, with NO attempt to paint a word picture. It is simply a single sentenceworth of information that you someday may find useful, though I hope for your sake and the sake of small furry innocents everywhere that you never need it. Ready? Here it is:
IF your dog eats the better part of a yard rabbit, then right around three am, you can expect to see said rabbit—or parts of it, anyway—appear IN YOUR BED and ON YOUR PERSON in a new and horrifying form. Here endeth the information. Do with it what you will.
I never TOLD you this for a very simple reason—It’s awful. This story begins with dismemberment and ends in SPECTACULAR diarrhea. Who wants to read that?
Worse, once Bagel learned that the an a bunnies was A FOOD – well. He understood that ALL yard animals are for eating. Rabbits, squirrels, deflated little moles, he has caught and killed and eaten UMPTY of them. A month or so ago, I watched him dash across the yard, take a twisting leap, and EAT A WHOLE SMALL BIRD right out of the air. It was like the dog version of THIS:
But—other than making sure his shots are VERY up to date—what can I do? It is his nature. He can’t NEVER GO OUTSIDE. Outside is where he poops, best case scenario. And, on nights when he eats a fat yard rabbit, the yard is ALSO where he sleeps.
I tell you this awful story now for two reasons.
First, so that you know how the skunk story ended. I solicited your advice, and indeed, we were going to call a skunk whisperer to relocate the fellow. But. Well.
Bagel— who is too stupid to have learned anything from having his face near-blasted off by foul gland fluids in his first skunk-encounter—relocated a goodly portion of the skunk to his belly and the rest of the skunk to various locations in and around the yard. It was terrible! Terrible! Terrible! on MANY level, not the least of which was that the skunk managed to thoroughly re-soak the dog in Smell as a protest.
Second, it’s a metaphor for why the blog has been so quiet thepast few years. As you have gathered, my life has been a little fraught with skunk stories. I have had more skunk stories than miraculous An A Bunnies stories, that’s for sure. I feel like in some ways I have lost the voice of the blog. There is a giddiness, an optimism, an odd certainty in the older FTK entries that I think may well be over now.
I am not sure how to find that voice again, or even if I should. Maybe the blog needs to evolve? Maybe it’s okay for the voice to change? Or maybe it should be a less frequent blog that I write when I CAN find that old voice, to try and preserve it? I am not sure, but I am open to responses.
I can tell you that I miss being here. I miss hearing from you, Oh my Best Beloveds.