Okay, first off, I was just minding my own business, watching TV last night, when I heard an "eee eee EEE" from the garage.
Oh, shit, I thought. I wonder what Little Girl's caught now. I should go shut the pet door before she brings it ...
WHAM! goes the pet door, as Little Girl comes barreling into the kitchen with a baby rabbit in her mouth.
Now, I know I said in an earlier post that while Little Girl will chase the rabbits, she doesn't actually try to catch them, and that is true - for the adult rabbits, who are as big as she is. But the baby rabbits?
Oh, she loves her a baby rabbit.
And by "love", I mean she wants to love them and pet them and name them George. She catches the baby rabbits and carries them around and plays and plays and PLAYS with them, until the rabbit gets away or she loses interest.
So! It's ten o'clock at night, which, let's face it, is the middle of the damn night for us old folks, and Little Girl's now in the living room with a rabbit, which she promptly drops on the floor.
And chaos ensues. The rabbit's tearing around the living room, Little Girl's tearing around after the rabbit, and I'm scrambling for my small-animal-catching equipment, i.e., a dollar-store butterfly net, an empty Cool Whip container, and a piece of cardboard.
The first order of business was to grab Little Girl and shut her in the spare bedroom, taking her out of the equation. Next up was catching the rabbit, which wasn't that tough, because frankly, rabbits aren't all that smart. They'll just huddle up in a corner, figuring that if they can't see YOU, you can't see THEM. Dipshits.
(I'm beginning to realize that I have absolutely no idea how to tell a story without turning it into a novel. I need to learn how to do the abridged versions, or something.)
But! So! Okay! I have the baby rabbit, who is frightened but uninjured, in the Cool Whip container, with the cardboard on top. I'm off to the park to set him free. Except it's pitch dark over there, and I can't really see where I'm going, but I know I need to get far enough away from the house so that Little Girl can't run right over and catch the rabbit again.
And then, I'm in the park, walking toward the creek, when out of the corner of my eye, I see ... something. A vague, shadowy, large figure over by the brush line. And I'm thinking, okay, what is THAT? when I hear a snort.
SNORT. SNORT. STAMP. STAMP. STAMP.
Oh, f*ck. It's a damn deer. A damn deer who is NOT HAPPY that I am in HER PARK, and is now snorting and stamping her disapproval.
And moving closer.
"SHIT, BAMBI!" I yell. "I'M TRYING TO SAVE THUMPER OVER HERE, ALL RIGHT? CHRIST!"
And the deer gave one final snort and faded into the brush line, and I let the rabbit go and it went frolicking off into the high grass, and I went back to the house and let a highly indignant Little Girl out of the spare room, making sure to give her great praise for her marvelous catch, and then I brushed my teeth and went to bed.
Just another evening here in RockyCat land. C'mon over!