As usual, I was in the backyard watching the girls play on the swingset, practice on the circus barrels and climb the apple tree.  I went inside for a glass of tea, and when I came back, Chelsea was sitting on the slide hugging something small and furry.

I went over.

What do you have honey?

Its my friend, she said.

I got closer. She was hugging a rabbit. A week old perhaps. Not much bigger than her hands.

I leaned over and inspected it. It was dead, all right. But there were no blood nor injuries.

Where did you find that sweetie?

Under there, she pointed to the slide. I sang them a lullaby and put them to sleep.

Them?

At the top of the slide there were four more lifeless rabbits. Lined up neatly in a row. I poked each one to be sure they were dead. Again, no blood and no wounds.

Oh, honey. Did you hurt them? I imagined her hugging the life out of them. Killing them with kindness, as they say.

No, she said. Beyla found them.

The dog was beneath the slide sniffing the upended nest of fur and dried grass.  Usually she would eat the rabbits. A fresh kill! But this time she didn’t even touch them. Which meant she didn’t dispatch them herself…I wondered if they starved, or suffocated, or worse, succumbed to some disease!

This is how it begins, I thought. With five dead rabbits and a little girl. The entire world wiped out by an interspecies virus. Rabbit flu. Bunny-bola.  Hopefully the first ones exposed would build an immunity.

A year ago, I found my toddler kissing a dead carp on the shore of Lake Michigan. “Don’t kiss dead fish!” I told her. Apparently, the lesson didn’t stick.

I told her not to kiss dead rabbits and went inside to get my camera. When I got back, my older daughter had joined in. They had chosen their favorites. Named them. And even planned on how to keep them.

We can put them in a cage in our room, my little one said.

- Nah, they’ll decompose and get really smelly.

We can do an experiment. We can put them in a dish with dirt and then dig up their bones and put them back together, the older one said.

- That would take a long, long time honey.

I watched as they played with the limp creatures. As I said, there was no blood or bile or bodily juices. Just five little rabbits that died a mysterious death.

I found it harmless. Educational, even. Had we been on a farm, this would be a normal occurrence. We’d find dead kittens or puppies or other animals all the time. But because we are in town, we’re supposed to avoid all dead things. To fear them. And that fear just leads to more fear. I think it is better to take away that mystery. As long as they keep their lips off the bunnies, I saw it as a good lesson.

After about twenty-minutes of morbid discovery, I told them it was time to bury them so I dug a hole. The girls placed two dead bunnies inside. I tossed dirt and my eldest put a few dandelion flowers on top. I think she even whispered a prayer.

Then I sent them inside to wash up. Plenty of anti-bacterial soap.

While they were gone, I took the other three rabbits and placed them strategically in front of my lettuce patch. I would have crucified the dead little bastards if I could. Put their head on a stake to scare away any other invaders to my garden. But, the little girls came back outside and saw me. So I let them decorate around the body with pine cones, rocks and flowers.

A few weeks has passed, and the rabbit-memorials seem to be doing the job. Along with the fake snakes and owl decoy. I may just have to take the girls to the shelter and rescue one of the forgotten Easter rabbits. Bring this lesson full-circle. But I guess if the world ends from rabbit-fever, it will all be for naught anyway.