Little Bunny BooBoo

My little backyard has a view of a sparkling pond in the golf course below.  A swinging chair is positioned for enjoying the sunshine reflecting off the water. This is where I like to relax and unwind at the end of the day, watching the ducks splash and frolic, and snickering at the golfers who accidentally slice their golf balls into the pond. 

So I was swinging peacefully in my chair, enthralled in a good book and listening to the sounds of the ducks, the birds in the trees, and a strange squeaky toy sound.  Wait, what?  I looked up from my book to see my Golden Retriever, Chelsea, nudging the source of the squeaky sound around on the ground. Only it wasn’t a chew toy, it was a cute, tiny little bunny squealing in terror!  I shrieked at Chelsea, who reluctantly backed away. The poor creature was lying on its back, flailing its tiny legs helplessly in the air. 

Don't let that innocent face fool you. This is Chelsea. Currently serving Hard Time for bunny terrorizing.

I picked him up and set him on his feet, expecting him to scurry off, but he just sat there, stunned, unmoving. One of his legs looked like it might be hurt. He was so cute and tiny, he fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.   He looked just like a little toy, so I could understand Chelsea's momentary confusion. Snuggling him against my chest, he still didn’t move or complain, just stared straight ahead wiggling his cutesy-wutsey little nose.  I couldn’t really tell if he was sick, hurt, or just terrorized,  and I know how fragile bunnies are.  They can literally be scared to death.  So I rocked in my swinging chair in the sunshine, trying to comfort Tiny Bunny BooBoo.  

That's Chester in the background. He's innocent.

First I put him in a box lined with paper towels.  

Then I decided he wouldn’t survive if I left him outside in the cold night air so I put him in an old bird cage with grass, shredded carrot and sugar water and brought him inside.  I put a cushy towel in there and he snuggled inside like it was a nest.  I kept talking to him and petting his velvety little ears but he just sat there, unblinking, unmoving.  His little eyes were only half open and I hoped he wasn’t in pain.  How do you tell?  I just couldn’t get him to open up to me.  Hmmmm, same problem I have with my son.  He just doesn’t want to tell me what’s on his mind.   

The dogs were somewhat curious, sniffing at him occasionally and my parrot kept getting off her perch, clicking her little bird nails across the tile floor and climbing on Bunny’s cage for closer examination. 

This is Tangerine. She has a long rap sheet. Her crimes: Disturbing the Peace, Vandalism, Food Theft, Invading Bunny's Privacy

I shooed everybody away, covered the cage with a big beach towel and hoped he’d survive the night. 

Fearing the worst, I lifted the corner of the towel the next morning.  To my great relief, his nose was still wiggling, his eyes were bright and clear and he seemed more alert.   

 

I placed the cage outside in the sunshine so he would be in familiar surroundings.  Later that afternoon, I returned to the swinging chair, cradling him in my lap.  I petted and talked to him and asked if he was OK.  I was pleased to see him looking so much better and put him on the ground to see what he’d do.   

His leg seemed better, and he hopped tentatively at first, then disappeared in a flash, off to points unknown in my yard.  I was relieved, wished him well and tried not to be sad that he didn’t bother to say thank you or goodbye.  Kids.