A real live dust bunny!

Okay, its not really a dust bunny, its a cotton tail, and a tiny one at that.  My daughter's friend took it away from their dog who apparently thought it was a chew toy.  There's no question of putting it back where the mama rabbit can find it, the dogs will devour it before that could ever happen... and there's the matter of a raw furless patch just above the tail that needs to be cleaned and taken care of to prevent infection.  The little guy is so calm and trusting and daggone cute.... the trick will be not getting too attached making releasing it back into the wild hard.  My husband suggested putting it on a spit and roasting it now... (yeah, sure, this is the guy that was trying to revive the hermit crab!)

Which brings to mind the Easter Bunny story!  (sorry, but this is a classic in my house!)

Its a well known fact that mine is a hunting family.  We hunt everything and anything that is in season.  One year my husband went rabbit hunting and brought home 2 cottontails which he laid on the garage floor until he was ready to clean them.  My daughters went out to see them, as they always do when my husband brings home game... and my youngest started crying hysterically. 

"Daddy killed the Easter Bunny!"

It took me a while to convince her that the Easter Bunny was fine and well, and these were just wild rabbits that we like to eat.  Well, that was good enough for her and things were quiet .... until Easter morning.  I had just started my new job overnights at the store and had to work Saturday night, which is when my husband and I normally did the Easter Baskets.  My husband wasn't too enthusiastic about doing it himself (5 kids!) so we decided that it could wait until I returned home the following morning.  I got off at 8 and when I got home my 3 youngest children met me at the door.  I was sadly informed that the Easter Bunny hadn't come.  Then my youngest started howling about how her daddy killed the Easter Bunny and that we ate it and that's why it didn't come.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Instead I gave them all big hugs and kisses, then went to my room, quickly packed the baskets and sneaked them onto each of the childrens' beds.  When I came back the family was already sitting around the breakfast table.  When we finished eating I wondered out loud if maybe the Easter Bunny was just a little confused because we had moved since last Easter... and maybe he didn't know where to leave the baskets.  I had the children go to their rooms, and very soon after squeals of delight filled the house.  I looked at my husband and whispered 'Shame on you for killing the Easter Bunny!', and finally got to laugh out loud and long.  We tell the story every year now at Easter.  One day the kids will tire of it, but I don't think I ever will.