Visitors

Outside our front door is an area off the porch and between the walkway for plants. I don't remember now if that area had plants in it when we moved here, but I do remember running a soaking hose under the dirt and planting things in it. It has now become a smorgasbord of mismatched plants from palm trees to some tree I received as a thank you for volunteering in Madison's first grade class room. My husband grows peppers in there and experiments with various plants he runs across at Home Depot, and the whole area is encircled with three layers of brick that draws kids to walk across it as a tightrope.

It is a favorite spot of Elliot's when we go outside each day because lizards congregate there and he exits the front door and immediately pounces into the area to chase the geckos. He did that recently as I took him outside for his daily urination and as he pounced and dug I played on my phone. Exactly two minutes later I heard a very high pitched tiny scream of fright that refused to end. Being a mother, and having gone through this very scenario once before, my motherly instincts kicked in and I began pulling the dog from his discovery. I was frantic, screaming his name and tugging on the retractable leash because I knew what was making that horrible noise. We had a bunny nest.

I could see two hand sized pink, hairless, eyes not even open yet animals in a shallow hole that Elliot had dug up, and one of the animals was frantically squealing, and as I watched he/she worked her way back into the hole to cuddle up next to her nest mate. I began kicking some of the leaves back over the hole until I worried that wasn't the right thing to do, but for some reason I was concerned not only about predators, but about sunburn. Hello, we live in Florida and it is a real concern.

I left the nest alone, but Elliot was very concerned. He spent the entire day with his nose pressed against the front door, peering out at them and whining. ALL DAY. I tried very hard to explain that what he had found was a nest of bunnies and that while I understood he was a dog, an animal, a carnivore, despite his love for salad, we had higher expectations for him than a bunny killer. Not on my watch, dog.

The next morning the hole was covered with fur. I briefly wondered if part of that clump included some of my dog's hair that tends to blow around our yard, but I decided not and was impressed that the mother had taken care of covering up her peeps. Elliot, of course, wanted to exam the fur and the hole and the bunnies, and Tom and I had to steer him clear of the area each time we took him outside. He would take to acting nonchalant as we walked past the area, but his nose was constantly twitching and he didn't fool us one bit.

Two days after that the leaves were covered over the fur, but because Elliot continuing hanging his head over the bricks and sniffing, I knew the babies were still there. I continued my protection of them, banging on the kitchen window when I saw my husband inside the area picking up handfuls of leaves and bagging them.

Me: "What are you doing? The bunnies are there."
Tom: "Look at all these leaves. It's fine. I'm cleaning this up."
Me: "You don't even know where the nest is so stop it. Get out of there. Jeez, you're worse than the dog."

Last night as they returned from there nightly walk Tom let Elliot hop into the area. This is the kind of thing that sets me into a tailspin because, what? Why?

Tom: "I just wanted to see what he would do. If they were still there."
Me: "Of course, they are still there. What about tiny, pink, and hairless did you not get? They aren't done growing yet."

Apparently, Elliot pawed until the hole was once again exposed (AAHHH) and one of the babies popped its head out of the hole and stuck his/her nose right up against Elliot's nose in a "Are You My Mother" sort of way. Realizing that no he was not the right species, the bunny popped back into the hole and burrowed once again next to his nest mate.

Tom: "So, they are still there."

And I wonder why I have anxiety about leaving...