There is a family of bunnies that lives in the backyard of my apartment fourplex. They essentially live in plain site, barely concealed under a tangle of weeds surrounding a tree. Sometimes I'll spot a little guy crouched there, motionless, camouflaged, staring straight ahead and sending out a quiet, rabbity vibe that, "Of course you do not see me, human. Move along."

I found one of the babies by the trash the other day. It was a tiny thing, lying on its side, stretched out long like it was in mid-bound. I don't know how it got there, or why it died. There didn't appear to be any damage or cause for its passing. In fact, it just kind of looked like it laid down, stretched out and was just hoping to take a little rest. 

It bothered me a lot to see it there. I hated passing by it when I would take the dogs for a walk. It reminded me of darker, sad things, stuff that we pretend isn't happening all around us every day, because if we really thought about it all in depth, and how useless we are to protect everything and everyone from hurtful things, we'd curl up in our beds and never leave. 

Its little body was finally gone this morning. I was glad. It's not like I imagined that it was bounding in a happier place. I was just grateful that the absence of the reminder of its death meant that my daily walks could be a little less sad.

Maybe that makes me a bad person. "Out of sight, out of mind."

I'd like to think that there's only so many dead baby bunnies one can see in a week and still keep a bounce in one's step. I don't think that makes me bad...just human.