Rabbit

When I was 16 there was this boy I worked with who was just so cool. He hung out with the cool kids and he went to the cool parties and he was nice to me, which made him infinitely cooler, in my eyes. And I still remember when I had the realization that his little floppy hairdo had gone out of style a year or two earlier and that maybe he was only invited to those cool parties because he was willing to throw so many parties and maybe he was only nice to me because he wasn’t actually that cool and neither was I. Quite a realization.

When I was 26 (fyi, I am 26 now) my family’s dog who was so sweet and stupid that you would be crazy not to love her. She had few desires in life: walks, treats and puh-lease throw that damn ball. When you watched TV she would curl up in the crook of you waist and when you slept she find fin the warmest spot in your lap. She was pure sweet.

And then it happened. The change.

This little sweet bundle of black and white fur was up the street playing with you cousin or stepsister or some related dog – it’s all very convoluted – when it was noticed she had been gone for a while. My mother went to track her down and instead of a sweet little dog, found a teeth-bearing ferocious dog. Well, as ferocious as an animal who weighs 13 pounds can be. My mom dragged her hairy little ass back to the front of the house where this little fur ball proceeded to chomp no something crunchy for a good while. Upon closer inspection with a flashlight (it was dark), this sweet little dog was found to be chomping on a rabbit’s foot.

She’s a rabbit killer!

So now at 26, 10 years after that shocking revelation about the cool guy, I am once again going through the trauma of disillusionment.