Well folks.

It didn’t get all Hakuna Matata on us over her.

It went the way of the Circle of Life in a slightly more horrific way than I imagined.

If you recall, our backyard became a rabbit sanctuary for the past week ever since my 8 year old son discovered a nest of baby rabbits.

My sweet, sensitive eight year old who loves animals with all his heart.

Ugh. This story sucks.

Yesterday afternoon the kids were playing in the backyard when my son announced that the rabbits were gone. They were no where to be found. I immediately believed him because he has been checking on them with the religious fervor of a Texas baptist. Okay, maybe that went a little too far.

But he said they were gone.

So we let the dog out in the backyard.

And everyone played.

And everyone played.

And everyone played.

And then..everyone came in for bedtime.

And then…everyone woke up the next day to get ready for school.

And then…just as I was biting into my hot oatmeal breakfast my eight year old came running into the kitchen screaming, “Sophie killed the baby rabbit! She killed it! It’s laying on the floor!”

Tears. Tears. Hysterical tears.

I ran into the dining room to find the dog in her crate and an obviously dead baby bunny sprawled out on our dining room floor.

How did this happen? The dog hasn’t even gone outside yet today?

Tears. Tears. Hysterical tears.

Still I can’t seem to move. I just stare at this dead bunny on my dining room floor.

I don’t understand? How did, oh no, I know what happened!

Last night when I let the dog in she ran right to her crate without stopping to get water. Unusual but not completely out of the ordinary.

I locked her in her crate and went to my room.

As I read a little while later I turned to my husband and said, “What is Sophie doing in her crate? She’s moving around a lot.”

OH. MY. GOD.

SHE WAS PLAYING WITH A DEAD RABBIT IN HER CRATE.

Now I have 2 kids screaming.

I yell at the dog and lock her in her crate. I order my 11 year old to get a trash bag and I go to the garage and grab some rake contraption and a sheet. I tell my son to open up the trash bag as I try and scoop THE DEAD  RABBIT onto the rake.

I miss the first time but manage to scoop him up the second time.

My son is so disgusted by holding the bag he drops it before managing to open it up enough for me to drop THE  DEAD BUNNY and the sheet into the bag.

I tie the bag and rush it outside.

I order my son to wash his hands throughly three times while I do the same. I wash the dining room floor and wash my hands again many times. And I do a full body shiver.

I then talk with my 8 year old, the animal lover, and mumble something about animals, circle of life, Sophie thought it was a toy, and then agree to write a note to his teacher telling her what a tough morning he has had.

I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t call my husband after this experience and possibly semi-curse at him for not being home during this event. I may have forbidden him to ever leave the house again for work.

I think it’s safe to say that this experience has affected us all.

Later in the day my four year old told the Old Navy saleswoman and the grocery store clerk that our dog killed a rabbit.

My 11 year old has definitely ruled out a career in waste management.

I’m considering plans to demolish our dining room.

And my  8 year old wants to know when we are going to the SPCA to get another dog.

Yes. He is.

Apparently he has short term memory problems.

I assured him under no uncertain circumstances that we would never get another pet of any kind.

After all, I can still see that DEAD BUNNY on my dining room floor.