We walked out to the hay field to see if it was high enough for a second cutting. Probably not, but maybe.
Then we started to bag up our onions in the hoophouse.We were chatting about this and that and then Khaiti was making astonished noises. I looked over at what she had seen and behold, there was Rabbit. He seemed nonchalant, and started to close his eyes to nap. This was strange behavior. Now that he had ventured into our gardens, we thought it was time to see if I could end this stalemate
I walked out and Rabbit stayed put. I went inside the house and got my .22 long rifle, the one my grandma used to shoot squirrels with. I loaded 2 bullets and walked back out to the hoophouse and stopped at the entrance. Rabbit sat, one eye on me. I raised the gun to my shoulder and sighted down the barrel, right onto his head. Khaiti pretended nothing was going on, continuing to bag onions. I shot.
Rabbit flopped over, dead. I was stunned. We walked over and I could discern no wound. When I dressed him I found that I had shot through the rib cage into the heart, exploding it. Instant death, no bleeding because there was no heart to pump blood. I pondered.
Now he will be roasted in the crock pot with sauerkraut.