A sad pre-Easter tale
Yesterday.
Half way through a boring day at work my other half phoned. She was in floods of tears. We live in the country and one of the four cats, Percy (Sir Perseus Plumb-Puss, a big black bruiser of a softy) had brought in a baby Bunny. Alive.
I arrived home in trepidation. I'm the man (chortle) and as such, and if required, I'm the bastard who has to put poor defenceless beasties out of their misery. Spiders I don't have a problem with: Glass on top, magazine beneath and then a swift lope to the garden. Slugs: no problem either, but Bunnies...
I just managed to get my coat off before I was ushered in to see said Bunny and proclaim its fate. E.D. (Eduardo Domanic Wouk-Wouk, black and white) and Percy were circling the bathroom, while the other two feline killing machines were sunning themselves by the fire.
There, by the bath, I fell in love. He was sooo cute, with a huge head and soulful brown eyes. Unfortunately he was terrified and hurt, and the Cats meowling outside the door didn't help at all. I picked him up and held him in my hand. He looked at me as if to say 'Help!'
After a lot grief, including discussions of vets vs vets fees vs four cats and a countryside full of baby Bunnies vs bankruptcy, I finally took him up to the woods and let him go. He sat there looking really sad and didn't move as I left.
Nature is so damn cruel.
Camy.
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