Little Miss Grownup

Last week David discovered a little nest of baby rabbits in the yard.

Monday, Hank had one of the rabbits in his mouth.  It was already dead; I saw him pick it up and it never moved.

There was one bunny left in the nest, and Hope and Naomi took spinach out to feed it.  We warned them that if the mom smelled human on the bunny, she might not go back to it.  So they were careful to not get too close and just throw spinach leaves in the grass.  Hope checked on it every day to make sure it was still there.

Today, thanks to the ComEd meter reader who never closes our gate and now has a complaint being forwarded to his supervisor, Hank got out of the back yard, and Hope happened to see him just as he was tearing the leg off the bunny.  On the sidewalk.  In view of the front door.

She came running into the house, sobbing and shrieking.  Of course, the other kids ran to the door to see what the issue was, so they got to see the dismembered baby rabbit on the sidewalk.

Good times, good times.

But as Joel and Naomi were telling Hank he was the worst dog ever, Hope came to Hank's rescue and said he wasn't a bad dog, it was just his instinct to go after animals.  He was only doing what he was bred to do.

I've heard that speech a hundred times with the cats and the birds they'd bring home, but it was her sobbing and petting her dog as she tried to explain to her siblings it wasn't his fault that did me in.

I asked her if she thought she could pick it up or if that would be too much, and she said she'd do it.  She put on a pair of my latex gloves and got a bag, picked up the pieces, and held the rabbit and petted it for a few minutes and cried some more.  Then she came in and wiped off Hank's face to get rid of any blood.

Pretty mature for a 2-year-old.  Oh wait, she's 10.  Still pretty mature.  But how the heck did she get to be 10...