Now, it seems that life has taken an ironic turn. It always does, doesn't it?
Since getting a cat a few years ago, and letting him out in the back yard, I no longer see rabbits taunting me from the patio. Instead they appear in my house, some alive and frightened out of their wits and others half-eaten or laid outside my home office in a moment of cat pride.
My cat, true to his species, is a hunter. Over the last year, he's caught several mice, a bird, and now rabbits. Hasenpfeffer is his favorite dish.
I used to shriek whenever I saw a mouse in the house. Now, I reserve it for rabbits, dead or alive. Living with three males helps. They take it in stride. My younger son, obviously influenced by video games, seems to see the hunting thing as a natural part of being an animal. "That's what cats do, Mom. They are animals of prey." My older son surprised me when he cleaned up the remains of a mostly eaten rabbit a few weeks ago, knowing that my husband was on a long bike ride and I was completely useless.
And this morning....well, this morning can only be described as a light thud in the hallway outside my office, followed by the sound of a cat licking his lips. Not only had he killed a rabbit; the cat had inadvertently trapped me inside my office. After a short shriek (fear has a way of manifesting itself in visceral expression), I shut the office door. I woke my husband, fast asleep in our bed, by phone.
A minute later, I heard my husband say to the cat, "Did you get a bunny this morning? Nice job!" He cheerfully took away the remains, clearing the path for me to leave my office.
I would much rather see live rabbits from a distance than dead ones up close. Be careful for what you wish for.