Hare Ball

Note: The following post is not for the faint of heart, rabbit lovers, or anyone not blessed with an iron stomach.

Rabbit number five lost its life on Friday. The great black and white hunter struck again.

The only difference this time is that she ate the thing–not the whole thing but pretty much everything but the two hind legs. She was going nowhere until she’d had her fill so I was relegated to listening to her crack bones and tear flesh for about 30 minutes. I called Pete, “You want the good news or the bad news?”

“The good news? Stella won’t need to be fed for about a week.”

“The bad news? Ask the rabbit. ”

After waiting her out, I bagged the remains of the rabbit in a turd sack and put it in the trash. I was feeling like I had really gotten a stronger stomach from all this gore.

But not so fast.

While driving home I was cognizant of whether or not Stella smelled since I had to hose off some rabbit blood that got on her front legs during the feast. Fortunately, everything smelled okay. After I arrived, I ran up into my house briefly to grab a few things, leaving Stella alone in the car.

When I came back down and opened the car door the odor nearly knocked me off my feet. At first I wondered if maybe I hadn’t cleaned her off well enough. And then, I looked in the back seat and wondered no more.

There, sitting right beside Ms. Stella, was a steaming pile of mushy, bloody, regurgitated rabbit.

I let out a little scream. I contemplated whether or not that pile of puke would in turn spur me on to hurl which may have caused a hurlific, endless loop of sorts. It did not.

Stella of course looked nonplussed. Her usual self, sitting in the back seat, head bent down, eyes looking up, innocent. Dog live in dee moment, remember? She probably was questioning who deposited that vomit next to her and, had I given her time alone, how might it taste?

Miraculously, I remained calm and pulled the sheet that I use to cover the back seat up from underneath Stella. I gathered the sheet and the regurged rabbit all in one and stuffed it in a big Glad (or maybe not so “glad”) bag and tossed that into the outdoor trash making me realize that garbage guys can in no way make enough money to do that job, especially if the stench soaked through.

All clean, we drove to Pete’s place. Stella walked in and immediately went for a munch. She was starving.

The next morning she got up on the bed and I simply observed her. I think it’s very easy for most dog owners to fall into anthropomorphizing their pet–at least to some degree–especially when they’re on your bed, their head resting, just like a human’s would, on a pillow. But with a dog like Stella you see things differently: you see a lean, lightning fast, natural born killer–whether it be on your bed or in a savannah–resting up for her next hunt.


3 Responses to “Hare Ball”

  1. HandH Says:

    Eww – but at least it was fresh rabbit! She sounds to have all her hunting instincts intact. Holly’s caught a couple, but hasn’t known what to do with them once she’s caught them, so I usually exchange with her for a piece of ham, and the rabbit goes straight in the bin. Sula knows what to do – unfortunately for your car.

  2. HandH Says:

    Sorry, I meant Stella, don’t know what came over me there. Stella – beautiful star!

  3. Amy Says:

    I’m not sure why I wound up reading this one. At first I wasn’t so happy about it, the visuals alone… but then you said hurlific and I was so happy to have that new word. 🙂 You do paint quite a picture my dear. 😉

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