MATH LESSON
I guess my sister got the math a little wrong. She thought that adding small animal into her day care program would equal a gentle, comforting learning environment. She just didn't factor in the dog.
My sister is a former teacher whose day care is at her house. She thought it might help young children experiencing a prolonged absence from their mothers for the first time to be around a small creature that they could care for. So she built a bunny pen and got a bunny.
She also got a lesson that the blood feud between bunnies and dogs remains in full vigor. Winnie, the family dog who tolerated two cats stoically but apparently draws the line at rabbits, managed to get into the bunny pen and tear the bunny limb from limb.
(This was something of a surprise to hear about. Winnie is usually a very patient animal, almost timid. Well, there was that dead raccoon found in the back yard a couple of years ago, but I always assumed that Winnie knew that tangling with raccoon was a quick ticket to the Old Yeller bullet in the brain. I chose to believe my sister when she said that nephew Jonah had slain the varmint during his Terrible Twos.)
Naturally, this was a setback for my sister, but one that I hoped could be overcome. As the old saying goes, when life hands you a dismembered rabbit, make Brunswick stew. Or something like that. I thought she could perhaps use the mutilated bunny to give her charges an anatomy lesson ... or a cooking lesson ... or a lesson in harvesting pelts, should any of them have ambitions to be fur traders in the Canadian wilderness. But near as I can make of the situation, the only person happy with the turn of events was Jonah. He was wonderstruck by the carnage and delighted in telling me about it. He might one day grow up to direct The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Part 29.
But my sister and brother-in-law now have bigger worries, I fear. Winnie's bloodlust has definitely stirred, and she might decide it's time to start moving up the food chain. I can see now the tragic series of events: my sister arriving home from the grocery store, fumbling at the front door with the bags and the keys, the first step inside distracted by her burden, then -- WHOOSH -- she's hanging upside down, her foot caught in a snare trap. The dog emerges triumphant from the kitchen ... and the
mask of canine devotion is gone forever. Or perhaps Winnie would slither cartoon-like across the floor one night, a butcher knife clinched in her teeth as she makes her way to my sister and brother-in-law's room. Or maybe Winnie will get the keys to the family van and try to run her prey down in the driveway.
Something must be done to stop her. I recently found this drawing lying about the house, and I thought it was the work of one of my nephew's fancy. I know realize it might have darker implications.
Man's best friend, indeed.
*****
The drawing is by Erin Ivanov
I guess my sister got the math a little wrong. She thought that adding small animal into her day care program would equal a gentle, comforting learning environment. She just didn't factor in the dog.
My sister is a former teacher whose day care is at her house. She thought it might help young children experiencing a prolonged absence from their mothers for the first time to be around a small creature that they could care for. So she built a bunny pen and got a bunny.
She also got a lesson that the blood feud between bunnies and dogs remains in full vigor. Winnie, the family dog who tolerated two cats stoically but apparently draws the line at rabbits, managed to get into the bunny pen and tear the bunny limb from limb.
(This was something of a surprise to hear about. Winnie is usually a very patient animal, almost timid. Well, there was that dead raccoon found in the back yard a couple of years ago, but I always assumed that Winnie knew that tangling with raccoon was a quick ticket to the Old Yeller bullet in the brain. I chose to believe my sister when she said that nephew Jonah had slain the varmint during his Terrible Twos.)
Naturally, this was a setback for my sister, but one that I hoped could be overcome. As the old saying goes, when life hands you a dismembered rabbit, make Brunswick stew. Or something like that. I thought she could perhaps use the mutilated bunny to give her charges an anatomy lesson ... or a cooking lesson ... or a lesson in harvesting pelts, should any of them have ambitions to be fur traders in the Canadian wilderness. But near as I can make of the situation, the only person happy with the turn of events was Jonah. He was wonderstruck by the carnage and delighted in telling me about it. He might one day grow up to direct The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Part 29.
But my sister and brother-in-law now have bigger worries, I fear. Winnie's bloodlust has definitely stirred, and she might decide it's time to start moving up the food chain. I can see now the tragic series of events: my sister arriving home from the grocery store, fumbling at the front door with the bags and the keys, the first step inside distracted by her burden, then -- WHOOSH -- she's hanging upside down, her foot caught in a snare trap. The dog emerges triumphant from the kitchen ... and the
mask of canine devotion is gone forever. Or perhaps Winnie would slither cartoon-like across the floor one night, a butcher knife clinched in her teeth as she makes her way to my sister and brother-in-law's room. Or maybe Winnie will get the keys to the family van and try to run her prey down in the driveway.Something must be done to stop her. I recently found this drawing lying about the house, and I thought it was the work of one of my nephew's fancy. I know realize it might have darker implications.
Man's best friend, indeed.
*****
The drawing is by Erin Ivanov
posted by John Parnell at 11:29 AM
1 Comments:
Good stuff, John! I'm happy to add you to People I Pretend to Know but only if there are more animal dismemberments in the deal.
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