Not My Best Week

The usual morning of waking from the troubled sleep with blurry eyes and raspy cough trying to separate the news from the classical music. After a strong cup of coffee trying to shake the spider webs, I lace up the daily attire and check the back yard. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, as expected but something is different. The yard is very quiet. The usual outside songs are not being sung. Something is wrong.

I look over to the pink azalea bush and see what appears to be something out of the ordinary. Instead of a dove or a squirrel lapping up the leftovers, there appears to be some small black bugs flying around. Then I see it. A furry tan leg sticking out under the bush was drawing flies. This can’t be good.

I lock up the house and walk down the path to find what I expected. The carcass of a bunny lay quietly under the spring flowers as the flies picked at the remains. I thought for sure it was the yard boss who must have become involved with some night creature but I walked further and saw another rabbit in its usual spot sunning in the ivy. Closer to the studio I saw where it must have begun. Clumps of fur and a little white cottontail were scattered in the square used for seed.

This didn’t look like a hawk because they escape with their victims. It could have been a cat or an owl but it was probably a raccoon. Whatever decided to attack this creature and leave the remains was quiet or at least I didn’t hear the ruckus last night.

I allowed the yard and the crows to do what had to be done then dug a pit and buried the critter. With a shovel of dirt and a tear another grave filled the yard.

As soon as I put out seed, the yard started getting back to its natural behavior. A little timid at first, but everyone got into their daily rhythm and everything began to looked as if the natural order of life was taking it’s course. Even the clumps of fur were gone in the breeze or someone will have a soft bed tonight. Perhaps the rain tonight will wash away the day and prepare for tomorrow.

Like the reflections of last week, tomorrow will be getting back to normal.

Then again there was poor little Andy or was it Randy or maybe Howie or Wilber or even Ruford whining on the Internet. One would think if a person is secure in his own talents and abilities and was a professional with a strong skin ready for the critics he wouldn’t have to seek out his social media friends for self-assurance. Maybe he got his ego boosted enough to become self righteous or able to face the mirror.

Tomorrow is just another day and life goes on whether we are here or not.