The Rabbit Head

Recently, Bahb and Big L were visting from Texas [sorry, I forgot to host a fabulous "Meet Bahb and Big L" party. What can I say? I'm much more apt to go to a party than host one]. After gorging ourselves at Perkins, we thought it would be prudent to take the dogs for a walk to burn off the 48 pieces of French toast consumed.

Health Fact: There is no amount of walking that can help you after consuming that kind of [delectable] carb/sugar load.

It was a truly GOR-GEOUS  November day. I really can't get enough of those. The dogs were sashaying like champs as we rounded the corner from my favorite street in Danville. Now, I comfortably admit that I was more interested in the soakage of Vitamin D than watching my dogs' every move.  I have since regretted this.

While I was day-dreaming about my TV Husband and simultaneously kicking myself in the head for eating so much, I happened to glance down at the road to see what looked like a dead bird. I commanded them to "leave it", but Loxley had already snatched up the rotting carcass.

fml.

As I leaned down and told Lox to drop it, I realized that I was not looking at feathers. I was looking at FUR...from a rabbit head. just the head. not the body. Ummm, why would a rabbit head be laying in the middle of the road? I scanned the ground in disbelief searching for the body. This was a two-part mission: first, to discover the location of the body and second, to remove it from the dog's line of sight. FAIL: no visual. Luckily, it was not already in one of the dogs' mouth.

For a split second, I wondered how in the hell could this rabbit head have spontaneously decapitated from its body? I then briefly considered what it would be like to live in a world where there is only one kind of death: Spontaneous Decapitation. Could you imagine walking around and seeing someone's head fall off? Jeeeeee-SUS.

The crunching of the rabbit skull snapped me out of that fantastical nightmare. I realized that this poor rabbit was probably a victim of a sacrificial ritual and/or the work of Queenie, the River Cat*. Bahb assured me that it was just a cat or a large bird of prey. Big L promptly began to gag and dry-heave while Bahb and I yelled at Lox to drop the rabbit head. I knew he wouldn't. I mean, really....that's an amazing find for a dog. I almost couldn't believe it myself.

After several unsuccessful attempts of commanding Lox to drop the fucking rabbit head, I knew this situation called for drastic measures. I had to pry his mouth open and shake the head out. MUCH easier said than done. Dog jaws are ridiculously strong, especially when you're also trying to avoid touching the head, brain matter, and eye goo that was oozing all over the damn place. VOM.IT. I grabbed Lox's adorable face and began prying. It was touch-and-go for awhile because his molars were doing some serious work on the skull. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I puked in my mouth at least 4 times. The smell was bad enough, but when the bunny brains started coming out the side of Lox's mouth, I could barely hold down my delicious breakfast. I fought like hell to keep my food where it belongs. I didn't just destroy Perkins French Toast so my dickhead dog could ruin it. Fuck that.

I didn't want to, but I HAD to look down to see what kind of progress I was making. I saw this:

Gag.

Eventually, I got the rabbit head out. It slimed all over my hand. Siiiiiiiiiiiick.


*Queenie the River Cat will be covered in a later installment. Just know that she is the oldest cat in the history of cats and she came from the Susquehanna River. I'm not kidding.