Our bunny died on Easter

Seriously. Isn't that awful? It will make for great Easter memories, I'm sure.

Our German Shepherd puppy, Bandit, loves animals. He likes to hold the cat, the one who will let him, and the bunny, and lick them until they're soaking wet piles of fur. He doesn't mean to hurt them. Unfortunately, yesterday after dinner, Bandit opened the bunny cage (yes, he opened it by himself) and decided to take the bunny out. There was no blood, thank goodness, but the bunny didn't survive. Katie cried and cried while John took care of things and dug a grave. As is our tradition now (we've lost a lot of small pets in the last few years), we each said something we remember about our bunny Gretel, then we shoveled the dirt into the grave. John dug it nice and deep so we don't have to deal with Bandit digging it back up later. That would be awful!

I've nicknamed Bandit Lennie. You know, from Of Mice and Men? But it's not really funny. I'm just grateful that the dog didn't get the taste of blood. Now we'll have to watch him closely and not let him play with the cat.

 

So now we have the first grave in our new pet cemetery. Katie doesn't do death well, not that a 9-year-old should. But she still cries over small pets who've been gone for years. Her sadness is what hit me the hardest, but I'll also miss the boys carrying the bunny around and feeding it carrots and lettuce. It's really sweet seeing your kids being so loving to a little animal.