My dogs are murderers.  It’s true.  Savage killers with no regard to the precious delicacy of life.  We keep finding dead things in the backyard, with the two of them jumping around, happily yipping at the unmoving forms of dead creatures, and it all started rather innocently one Sunday afternoon.

     I had just spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to get my dogs in the house and away from whatever obviously had their undivided attention.  Squinting across the yard at the dark lump, I thought, “Oh, no!  They’ve killed a cat!”  As I craned my neck and scanned the sight, an eerie silence fell over the yard.  I stood there, afraid to actually go any closer, but knowing, eventually, I would.  I decided to get my husband.

     I brought him out and pointed to the still form.  We stayed on the porch, putting off the inevitable approach to what I imagined would be a horribly mutilated animal.  I spotted a small hole under the fence, where something had obviously made its way, unknowingly, to its own grisly demise.  The gap between fence and ground suggested a small creature.  I knew it!  A cat!  Oh, my heart broke for the terror the poor thing surely went through when it realized its ghastly mistake.

     My husband, brave man that he is, took a few steps toward the crime scene.  Infused by his bravery, I followed.  We stopped and peered again, still guessing at what animal it could be.  The closer we got, the more I was convinced it was not a cat.  Too small.  We couldn't see any blood, and that encouraged us to move closer.  Soon, we stood over the lifeless thing.  Grey fur, matted with dog slobber and dirt, stuck out in patches.  Still, we saw no blood.

     Grabbing a stick, my husband turned it over.  OH!  I gasped as my hands flew to cover my face.  I heard my husband say he couldn’t find any bite marks, which prompted me to uncover my eyes and peek at it.  My eyes widened as I recognized what I was seeing.  A rabbit.  I looked at my husband and said, “The neighbors have rabbits!”  I saw it dawn on him, his face sobered and went slack as we looked dumbly at one another.

     We never found any trauma on that poor rabbit.  Our dogs obviously scared it, literally, to death.  I imagined they chased it around, tossed it about with their mouths and teased it with nips that caused no physical damage.  So, not only were my dogs murderers, they were heartless torturers of cuddly, cute bunny rabbits!  I felt so ashamed, and I said as much to my husband, who only nodded in agreement.  We looked at it in silence a few more moments.  Finally, my husband cleared his throat and looked at me.

     “So, do we tell them or not?”