OMYGOD! The poor rabbit. I had to do something….if I hadn’t, it could have continued like that for maybe hours. I went inside to consult Brenda…asked her if I should drown it in a bucket. She suggested the shovel…and calling the neighbor. I didn’t want to trouble the neighbor. The shovel entered my mind on my way into the house—but I dismissed it, not an option. How would I hit it? The sharp way? Break it’s neck? Cut it’s head off?! Or the flat way? I called my parents on their cell as they’re headed out of town—my dad has a knack for killing things. Asked them how they thought I should proceed. Two votes for the shovel. A broad-side blow would do the job.

So I went out to the shed. My mind went blank, couldn’t remember the combination for the padlock. Had to go back inside to check where I had hidden the digits. I slowly entered the comb—the disk spinning coarsely against the corroded metal. The door, swollen with the moisture of the rain, required a tug before it relented and swung shakily open. I reached for the shovel…it looked small and I wondered if I could do it, but as I lifted it, I felt the heft of the implement in my hands and I knew it would require little momentum to complete the task at hand…it was my aim I had to worry about.

I looked across the yard to where I left the rabbit. Even at that distance, I could see he had commenced flopping again. I had to do this. I couldn’t let him continue like that. I walked across the yard. I took a few test swings. Good God, I didn’t want to miss. I told myself “Don’t miss, don’t miss, don’t miss…” as I raised the weight of the shovel over my head and brought it down with all the force I could muster. BAM! I missed. Hit the stupid landscaping log of the raised garden. I terrified the poor rabbit, again. I swung, again and again….I hit him three times, I think. It didn’t go as well as I had hoped. In the end, his scull was visibly crushed and his eyeball protruding.

I scooped him up with my instrument of death and put him in a paper bag…that I suppose I’ll put out to the road with next week’s garbage.

Sobbing, I finished planting my herbs in the rain. Dear lord, I’m just not cut out for killing bunnies.