When Your Dog Awkwardly Kills Your Other Pet

This story actually has a happy ending. Don’t worry.

You know when you were little and your parents told you that your bunny hopped away? I hate to break it to you. Your parents were liars who didn’t think you could handle the truth. Today’s theme: forgiveness.

Last Friday night I was about to go out, when suddenly Dora the dog and her weirdo stray dog friends started barking their heads off around the car. I peak under and, lo and behold, a fluffy black bunny is staring right back at me! This is basically every girl’s fantasy: BUNNY RESCUE! (No, not Christian Grey, that’s real life!) I immediately switch into rabbit wrangling mode and grab the little guy in my heels.

Since I had a tight schedule of getting unnecessarily drunk that night, I forced the terrified creature to take selfies with me and put him inside. I showed everyone my new BFF. I am positive the menfolk were really into my crazed obsession.

I came back from the city the next day. I learned that the Airbnb guests had let the bunny go. He wouldn’t eat the carrot they were force feeding him. And they thought he “maybe has a disease”. I was sort of devastated. Especially since they told me in a letter. Werd. Cowards. But I forgave them.

A week later I was feeling unusually motivated and doing yoga outside. I had all but forgotten about Bunny, when the furry fuck hopped out from behind the bush and scared the shit out of me. My eyes turned into anime mode. Who gets a second chance? With a bunny?! The universe was definitely trying to tell me something. I pounced on him.

I hauled out a chicken coop and gently tucked Bunny in with some hay and spinach. I felt especially proud of myself for being an official Bunny Momma. I’m 28 now and my raging ovaries tell me to make little nests and cribs for anything cute and small. Dora loved Bunny too. Or so I thought.

Bunny nest.

A few days later, Dora and I decided to have some company. It’s just the two of us at the moment on a rural avocado farm, so I try to have guests to not seem like a hermit. Even though I love my beautiful solitude and don’t give a shit about company. See my How to Never be Lonely Again article.

That afternoon, a nice British girl came to visit. I tried my best to do what normal people do for British guests and offered her tea, almond cake, and homemade hummus. I thought it was a good combo. I had also bought the entire almond cake for myself on a whim and needed to get rid of it. Everything was going quite well, when suddenly, between the whirs of the blender and chickpea splatter, my Brit gasped in horror. There was Dora, trotting along with limp Bunny in her mouth.

Ugh. AWKWARD.

No better way to ruin a tea party than to have your pet casually murder your other pet.

I got Dora to drop the poor creature and me and Britty poked it a few times. I said “Bad dog! I’m mad at you!” weakly. I’m shitty at punishing. My British friend quickly left after claiming to have other plans.

Dora maybe having remorse. I’m feeling conflicted. We both have conflict eyebrows.

The feelings that ensued after left me conflicted. I was now living with a murderer. Sleeping with a murderer in fact. I stared at her from across the bed and wondered if dogs could have a guilty conscious. My idea of Dora being a divine creature shattered. This was MY BUNNY. HE CAME BACK TO ME. IT WAS A SIGN.

Whenever I let Dora out, she would run back to the bunny. Yes, I just left Bunny out there in the open. I was hoping that it was just pretending to be dead and would bounce back to life. I was terrified to bury it half alive and have it’s ears suddenly pop up out of it’s freshly dug grave like a zombie bunny.

Today I declared Bunny officially dead because he hadn’t moved for three days and smelled like my ex’s car. I’ve never needed to dig a grave before (thankfully?!) and it took me a really long time to pick a suitable spot. I made a tombstone. I put a cupcake on it to make it pretty. We had a memorial. Look how remorseful Dora looks. I guess I forgive her. I feel a lot better now.

Anyway, that’s the end of the story. It doesn’t really have a happy ending for Bunny. But it is happy in the sense that we learned to forgive! No hard feelings Dora. You are just a dog.

Xoxo,

The Survivalist

Related


Originally published at www.selfhelpsurvivalist.com on November 6, 2015.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.