When last we met, I told you about six bunnies who had appeared, as if by magic, in our backyard, how we had successfully encouraged five of them to move on, and that I suspected one lone baby rabbit remained.
Turned out, I was right. The last bunny standing proved to be a worthy match and, while we came oh-so-close to catching the little fella so Gerry could relocate him to the field across the street where he could live his best life away from our garden, he foiled us at every turn.
It became a challenge. Us vs bunny. Gerry devised different strategies, and a few times every day we would take up the chase. He became more than a wild bunny to us; and more like a cheeky nemesis. Dare I say, a little wild pet, even.
Until today.
I checked our backyard camera this morning and I saw a visitor around 2 a.m., and a few minutes later, said feline visitor reappeared—with our bunny limp in his mouth. Gawd, nature is cruel. We wanted him gone, but not that way.
Softies that we are, we’re mourning the little guy today and, to be honest, missing the chase.
Anyway, we now return to regularly scheduled programming (with heavy hearts).