Karma is coming to get me. But before it does, thanks to CaneWife of Three Pugs and a Baby
for inspiring the title.
A few nights ago I evicted five juvenile rabbits from their nest. In my defense it was a foot from Felix's sandbox. They are known carriers of parasites, disease and deer ticks. They are an obvious threat to my burgeoning vegetable garden.
Their huge damp eyes and shivering paws as they ran off to recolonize under our shed will haunt me at least until tomorrow.
There's been neither hide nor hair (hare?) of their mother, nor had we seen them before the night in question, despite their close proximity to a regular backyard haunt, which led me to wonder if she's merely done rearing them, or if something nefarious happened to her. Either way, I had Mark shoo them from the area, and we pulled apart the nest with a stick. They headed for under our shed, but I figured they'd eventually head under the fence for the big, bad woods and marshland behind our neighbors house.
Lo, not three hours later, there they all are, huddled along the fence near the now demolished nest. I am picturing myself with a construction order, a hard hat, and a wrecking ball while the bunnies cower and weep at my cruelty. I am seriously doubting my earlier eviction notice. I scatter them, gently nudging them with a leafy branch, until they head for the safety of under the shed.
Next morning, three of them have returned. They are healthy, cheeky, and no longer frightened of me. I have visions of Watership Down. I feel awful, but mostly? Still afraid of deer ticks and parasites. Sigh. So, I upped the ante. I sicced my dogs on them.
Oh, don't get all horrified. Have you met my dogs
? Their natural enemy is their own bed. Dangerous predators they are not. They made a big show of barking and chasing, but all three bunnies left the property alive and relatively unharmed.
I say relatively because if bunnies have pride, theirs is shattered. They ought to send me their bunny therapy bills. One decided the best route to safety was through the spokes of Felix's tricycle wheel. Maurice caught it trying to squeeze through, and nipped at it's tail. It ran off with tail intact. No harm, no foul. Amelie got as far as getting her mouth (her soft, gentle, Golden Retriever mouth) around a bunny. It squeaked (for those who don't know, rabbits scream when they're hurt, so I was largely unconcerned), and she jumped like she'd been stung. I called them off, and inspected the victim. It was breathing and unmarked, but still.
I said very softly, "It's okay, but you should go now."
Then, as if the little guy heard me, he rolled back onto his feet, shook himself (yuck! dog drool!
), and hopped, as nonchalantly as possible, to the gap in the fence, where he squeezed under and was never seen again.
Labels: Pugs, Ramblings