I was standing at the kitchen sink by the window when suddenly Bogie tore out of the doggy
door. He raced to the southeast corner of the yard. In a flurry of dirt, he grabbed something and came trotting back towards the house.
A bunny!
I ran outside in my bare feet and yelled at him. He dropped it.
The bunny raced off but came up against the block wall where Bogie grabbed him
again. The poor bunny. How could he have known he wandered into a closed off area?
I yelled again. In fact, I was yelling No, No, No, No at the top of my voice.
Bogie dropped the bunny again. This time the bunny tore off towards the front of the yard and almost made
it to the front gate.
Almost.
I never realized before how fast Bogie can run.
I ran back inside to get shoes. When I came back out, Bogie was in
the grass, standing over the bunny on the ground.
Bogie didn't stop me from grabbing the bunny off the ground. But as I tried to move away with it, he came toward me.
Before Bogie could grab it back, I ran and dropped the bunny over the wall into the retention basin. That's at least a 6 foot drop.
I didn't even know if it was alive. There had been no time to check when I grabbed it out from under Bogie's nose.
I went out into the retention basin to check whether it was dead or how
badly it was hurt.
Stunned, of course. It lay there on the dirt looking broken.
I carefully picked it up and straightened it up, stroking it, talking to it.
There was lots and lots of slobbery fur, but no
blood.
No apparent broken bones. There was no way to tell if there was any internal damage.
It blinked at me. I wished it could tell me if it was okay.
I set it carefully in
a shady pile of vegetation under a tree and hoped for the best. It was looking around when I
walked away.
The next morning I went back out to check on it. The bunny was gone.
There was no signs of a struggle like a coyote or hawk had gotten it.
It just looked like the bunny had recovered from his trauma and hopped home to share his terrifying story.
I hope so.
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