Watership Dave

Something (and hopefully not someone) left us a present on our doorstep Wednesday morning. A dead rabbit. And it wasn't any rabbit, it was a baby rabbit. A cute little bunny, with ants crawling all over it's face and exploring it's cute bunny ears. Being the man I let Jen go to work and said I'd deal with it. What a guy.

Problem was, when I went to pick it up it kicked. Then it moved its head up and made some horrible noise. It wasn't a dead rabbit, but rather a dying rabbit. Bugger. I know that the right thing to do was to put it out of it's misery. I have quite vivid memories of my dad lobbing the head off a suffering bird with a spade and thinking nothing of it. Thing is, although sometimes it's feel like it, i'm not my dad. Yeah, I saw bits of wood on a Sunday, wire light fittings and drive a Skoda (don't laugh), but i'm still not my dad. So I did what any liberal wimp would do, re-housed it in a shoe box with food and water and spent half an hour picking off the ants from it's dying body so it would have some dignity in death. It was dead when I got back from work 8 hours later.

Despite leaving the rabbit to die an arduous and painful death, at least it had some dignity. I think that says something profound about the human condition, i'm just not mature enough to know what. After all, I'm not my dad.

Got satnav yesterday and then spent half an hour finding out how to get to work (I knew this already), how to get to mum and dad's house (I knew this already) and where the nearest petrol station was (I knew this already). Money well spent.