For your entertainment, this describes what happened at my house last night. My fourteen year old daughter, Natalie, wrote it. I think she's quite talented!
The Rabbit: A Retelling
by Natalie Estes
It was a calm, cool night. I was standing in the backyard, staring at the lightning bugs and wondering what it was like for your own butt to glow. Yes, these were the deep thoughts frolicking between my ears when, suddenly, Cocoa dashed across the yard to the fence. In the corner of my eye, I saw the dark, small shape of some critter dashing along the edge of the fence, Cocoa close at its heels. Then, I watched, horrified yet increasingly interested as Cocoa swept the critter up and into its teeth. I was about to cheer when something in me suddenly objected. I looked closer, and saw that Cocoa had not caught some varmin, that this was not a rat or a mole, but that this was, in fact, a baby bunny rabbit.
Before I could even form words of protest on my tongue, I watched in horror as Cocoa's jaws tightened, and listened to the pitiful last squeals for mercy and freedom the poor bunny cried before, at last, the jaws closed completely and ended its life.
Horrified and shocked, I fled like a deer, galloping over patio furniture and drink coolers to the door. I dashed inside, sliding on the hardwoods but staying upright as I sprinted to my mother's bedroom for answers, comfort, and protection.
I told the tale of what had happened to my slack-jawed mother. She quickly donned the appropriate attire for venturing outdoors- No doubt the neighbors would be drawn to peek over our fence after hearing my cries- and together we returned to the scene of the crime. At some point my curious sister Raegan must've heard our ruckus, because she soon joined us, as well.
Together, we three women ventured onto our lavishly furnished deck, which had been transformed into an outdoor world of death and merciless predators.
We searched the darkening grounds for the offender, and were quick to find her. Staring at us proudly, she held the limp, swaying body of the rabbit in her murderous maw.
The next instant seemed to last a lifetime.
My mother, always calm and collected, squealed not unlike the poor rabbit did in its last moments. Also like the rabbit, she dashes away from the deathly dachshund but, unlike the rabbit, she reached her abode safely. I followed her inside to find her sobbing into her hands.
Feeling as though our roles should be reversed, I consoled my mother until she was calm before returning outside. I stood on the deck, pondering what to do. Raegan hopelessly chased the hound, who, even as she worried deeply for my mother and ran for her life from my sister, still clutched the lifeless kit between her fangs.
This was when my mother, finally recollected, opened the door again.
Cocoa leaps into action. Seeing her chance not only to escape from Raegan, but to see her mother and make sure she was unharmed, Cocoa dashed inside.
My mother's recently-repaired psych shattered. Cocoa, terrified of my mother and no doubt worrying that her recent kill would be taken away, sprinted into her kennel and holed away. Safe for the moment, she began to eat.
I finally decided to ask for guidance from my wise father. I called him, and after a few moments of waiting and listening to the phone ring- meanwhile, my sister began to narrate our dog's meal, "She's torn it in half! It's going everywhere!"- my father answers.
I explained the situation, from the bunny inside the house to my mother's hysterical screaming and sobbing in the living room, and he instructs me what to do. I steel myself, set the phone on speaker and place it on the counter, enlist my sister, and set to work.
We lock the kennel door, entrapping both predator and prey within the confines of the wire shelter. It seemed Cocoa's house of refuge had turned against her, and she began to inhale the rabbit, sensing that the end to her escapades were near.
Together, we carried the kennel out the backdoor- Our mother squeal ed as the cage passed her- and closed the door behind us.
I unlocked the door and tilted the kennel, forcing the dog, after a final chomp, to exit. My sister and I then lifted the kennel and carried it, blood, blankets, and all, to the trashcan. We dumped the entirety of its contents into the disposal bin with relative ease- Our only issue being when the kennel, in a last attempt to resecure its belongings, snagged the edge of the bed, forcing us to dislodge the bed from the kennel's metal claws- before carrying it back, empty, to the deck.
I ventured inside to calm my mother, and give her the news that the rabbit was gone entirely. She seemed comforted slightly by this, but for the most part just worried for the dog. (No doubt this night had tore a permanent rift in their previously near-perfect relationship.) I assured her the dog would be taken care of, as long with the kennel.
I washed the kennel and the dog down with the hose outside (listening to the neighbors laugh at us over the fence) before carrying the dog inside for further scrubbing in the tub. Finally, the dog seemed clean of all remnants of its crime. The situation seemed controlled for the first time
all night, and at lastI permitted myself a laugh. Who else would this happen to but I?
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