The Tail of Robert Smith

About a year ago, when Avery was newly 4 years old, we were looking out into the yard and saw a couple of bunnies frolicking. I noted that we had seen the same one in particular several days in a row and said “Hey, maybe we should give him a name. How about Stew?” (Yes, I do find myself amusing. Yes, I am the only one.)

Avery said matter-of-factly, “That’s not appropriate. How about Robert Smith?”

(In case you’re wondering, she named the second one Marshmallow. Not Marshmallow Smith. I know because I asked.)

So Robert Smith lives in our backyard. When our dog George barks, one of the kids will say, “Oh, he’s barking at Robert Smith.” Sometimes over coffee, Kevin will look out and remark, “Robert Smith is out and about bright and early today.” Basically if our daily life were a sitcom, the opening credits would say, “and featuring Robert Smith.”

So on a family walk two nights ago, Savvy (2) stopped in her tracks and said, “Look at the bunny sleeping with bugs on him!” Avery took one look at the limp, eyeless, bug-infested rabbit carcass on the curb and said, “It’s not sleeping, Savvy, it’s dead. It’s probably Robert Smith.”

I was immediately like, “Nooo, I’m sure it’s not Robert Smith! It’s probably just a random bunny traveling through town!” (Yes, that is what I said verbatim. I have no idea why.)

She replied sadly, “Or maybe it’s his kid.”

The hell, Debbie Downer? I’m trying to make this easier.

Cut to yesterday, we are walking to the pool and as we pass the scene of the “accident” (in quotes because we have yet to rule out fowl play, by which I obviously mean a hawk) I start to notice little bits of fur scattered around in the grass. And then I see it: a tiny rabbit claw still attached to a long leg bone.

Savvy, who misses nothing (perhaps because she’s the closest to the ground) pointed and said, “Oh no, his leg! The bunny that got dead! We gotta fix him tomorrow at the doctor!”

The three of us stared at the scattered, mutilated bunny bits. After a moment, Avery started to walk on and said over her shoulder, “Actually Savvy, it’s sad, but he’s dead forever. Probably got eaten by a coyote. Or hit by a car. Or struck by lightning. Or a mower…but life is nature, Savvy, and nature is life.”

Alrighty then. My 5 year old realist.

(I feel it’s important to note that the identity of the body in question has not been verified, but Robert Smith has not notified us of his whereabouts. I will obviously keep everyone posted as the case unfolds.)

Alternate titles for this post:

Life is Nature. Nature is Life.

Making a Murderhare

Who Framed Robert Rabbit?

Unhoppy Endings

Debbie Down-er the Rabbit Hole

A Bunny Thing Happened On the Way to The Pool

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