The days of egg hunts and the Easter Bunny surreptitiously straying to our house have ended. How do I know this? Our Bunny is dead. I found the body and plausible evidence.
On Easter Sunday morning a few years ago, I was busy tidying up in readiness for my friend’s little girls who were coming to partake in an egg hunt. Tipping rubbish into the bin I spotted a sodden furry pile on the nearby paving. A dead rat? Oh no! (relief, really) On closer inspection it transpired to be a lifeless rabbit.
What to do? Seal off the crime scene with yellow and black striped tape. Chalk the corpse outline, then search for clues. Did those exposed entrails point towards a purring puss? Should we process pawprints, put up wanted posters and be on the lookout for our prime suspect? It’s homicide outside the house!
Reluctant to touch the mess of blood and guts, I called for backup. My boys rushed out to scrutinise the corpse. “Good old Felix!” commended elder son. “Uugh, get rid of it!” I pleaded. A shovel was procured and the mauled carcass mysteriously disappeared.
Without an eye witness, the suspected assassin got off scot free. Our cat, however, now sports a collar. Its tinkling bell won’t keep her under house arrest, but unsuspecting wildlife might be warned.
Even though my kids have long outgrown egg hunts and our carnivorous cat continues to prowl, here’s hoping that the Easter Bunny could still drop by!
©Maeve O’Keeffe 2017 www.facebook.com/frazzledmammycork