We found a nest of baby bunnies in the back yard last week.
I say we, but what actually happened was that BabyDog stuck her nose into a burrow of baby bunnies and came out with a mouthful of bun babe. They were furred and almost ready to leave their mother, so rather than lying there helplessly, the other five ran around the backyard desperately screaming. Apparently when they’re newly furry they look like bunnies but still think like dumb-dumbs, so FluterPup was able to corner a second baby bunny, and they both trotted around the back yard very delicately holding a screaming baby rabbit until I could catch the dogs, release the bunnies, and re-install everyone back into their burrow. I am astounded how gentle the dogs were (and sympathetic to how terrified the bunnies must have been), and was pleased that when I checked the next morning everyone was alive and well. The dogs were banned from the back yard until the bunnies were ready to leave home for serious - hopefully no longer dumb-dumbs. We had some really terrible weather and they were gone the next morning; I hope they’re off bunny-ing around and that they didn’t drown or blow away, but I can say that they weren’t killed by marauding terriers.
AT ANY RATE. Two very active dogs with no yard was a pain in the butt, so I called my mother for a bit of sympathy. Her response: “You should just let them kill the bunnies. You’re just going to have another nest of them in a few weeks and they eat everything.”
I pointed out that that was a.) horrifying and b.) would result in me washing blood and bits of rabbit from the beards of my furry monsters and she relented.
A week later, we were discussing the last episode of GoT (SPOILER) and she remarked, “I hate that the (very fictional) dragon died, but beyond that I just couldn’t be bothered to care.”
So for those of you keeping score: fuck actual living baby bunnies but fictional dragon death is so sad