At last I am happy with my garden, the lilies bloom, the roses blush, I can relax with a Pimms and survey my handiwork and sigh with middle aged contentment. Then I notice there is a small, cute rabbit who is nibbling the clover that is mixed in with the grass. How absolutely adorable, the children agree, to have a pet mowing the lawn!
The honeymoon period regarding the rabbit lasts about a day when I see him eating the leaves off the lilies. The scoundrel! I spend my day chasing him away. I don't want to tell my husband about it because he would probably dispose of it. He has offered to 'take care of' my friend Daisy's three retarded/psychotic pets:
Crazy Cat One: will launch herself at you with absolutely no provocation. They have to use gardening gloves to get her in the crate and she once hung from Daisy's husband Darren's nostril by one claw while he spurted blood.
Crazy Cat Two: Pisses in all plant pots but will not piss in the cat litter. Also has eczema.
Retarded Dog: Sleeps in the bed with them which may be why they never have sex. Frequently eats stuff and vomits all over the house.
By taking care of them, I of course mean that John has said that for $10 he will be an Animal Hit Man, and will take them away in the middle of the night, no questions asked, and they will never return. Animal Hit Man is definitely a lucrative home business, but I don't know if he would actually carry out these cold blooded killings or whether it is all front. So far Daisy is for at least some of the animals being murdered but Darren says he will not allow the hit nor will he have them put down by a vet since it is 'bad karma.' I keep reminding him that a house that smells of cat piss can be very bad karma too.
Anyway,I tell the kids I am angry with the rabbit and am going to try and make it relocate to the neighbor's garden. Then I go upstairs and, seizing the bull by the horns, have a quick romp in the hay (with John). When I come downstairs again both Sausage and Scarlett stare at me, looking very worried. Yes, they were meant to be playing in the garden, or so I thought....
Sausage says, "We heard you crying." She puts her arms around me.
Scarlett's lower lip starts quivering. "We heard you crying upstairs in your bedroom."
"Oh." What are they on about? Oh yes, I see, my yowling during sex, yes, I suppose it could be construed as crying.
"We know you're upset that the rabbit ate your flowers."
Right. Put on a sad clown face. "Yes I am, I'm very upset. And that's why I was, um, crying."
"It's going to be all right," says Scarlett, starting to cry.
"It will," I reply. "We're going to find a way to stop him eating the flowers."
We have a group hug while I wonder: is it wrong to lie to kids?
Also, to all the gardening nuts out there: any tips on how to stop rabbits eating your plants? A friend recommended sprinkling chili powder on them. Might try that.
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