Run, Rabbit, Run

Am Absolutely Not saving any more rabbits.
As much as I love them. And all. Fluffy little bunnies.
But am not going to run round the garden in my T-shirt and knickers, leaping like a mad woman through the Broad Beans in the vegetable garden, in order to save a small baby bunny from our cat, Toby.
Let me explain...
Was brushing my hair the other morning. Looking fondly out of the window at Daughter feeding chickens in her nightie. Rubbed some fake tan ( an absolute must for those with Pale Skin) into my now rather Brown Legs, and was looking admiringly at the back of the calves, when heard Blood Curdling Screams. Emanating from the Vegetable Garden.
In Blind Panic threw window open and yelled out at Daughter,
'WHAT IS THE MATTER?'
Daughter was then seen, running full pelt, past the greenhouse and appeared to have thrown herself under the hedge. Throughout her run, she Screamed,'TOBEEEEEEE. NO!!!!!!!'
I yelled again.
Daughter answered, rather muffled, from the Depths of the hedge,
'He's got another rabbit... NNOOOOOO, TOBEEEEEE!'
At this point was leaning so far out of window that became a little anxious that I might fall out, so made the Sensible Decision to go down and Save The Rabbit. Again.
Toby, our cat, has had an awful lot of fun with the Bunnies in our garden, particularly with the Baby Ones. Which seems awfully mean of him. But then again, he is a Cat. And that's what they Do.
Heave open Back Door, always quite a Feat, as is old and warped.
Daughter still under hedge, and still shouting.
Suddenly she emerges. Shouting momentarily stopped.
In her arms is a small, badly frightened and injured baby rabbit.
Daughter is in tears.
'Poor little thing,' she says. 'Bad Toby.'
At this point I am aware that I am wearing a small, light-blue T-shirt and a pair of rather racy knickers.
May I say that this is Highly Unusual.
For some Very Strange Reason, I had run out of the normal M & S knickers normally worn on an Ordinary sort of day. They had all Disappeared off the Face of the Earth. Not in drawer. Not in wash. Not on line. Not in Hot Cupboard. Not Bloody Anywhere. Had someone Eaten them?
So. Had to find Alternative Arrangements. It was Racy Lacy or Very Large Black Pants. Very large ones were tortuously tight and hot. Had rejected those in favour of something cooler.
Hence the Lacy Racy Pair I was Adorning.
Pulling T-shirt down and hoping the post man wouldn't make his appearance any minute, I made Sympathetic Noises re. the rabbit and suggested we put it somewhere quiet.
Gently lifted it from Daughter and carried it over the lawn.
Blood all over the T-Shirt. Hands. Daughter. Rather keen not to get it on Pants.
Rabbit then promply died.
Poor little thing.
Daughter cried.
Youngest and Middle Son came out to inspect the damage. Mildly astonished at my Attire.
'Mummy, why are you wearing no trousers?' sort of questions.
Replied rather tersely that had had no time to find trousers when Saving Rabbits.
We all helped lay rabbit under the beech hedge that surrounds the garden.
Poor little rabbit. It looked so tiny.
All felt rather sad.
Then we all trooped in to the house.
Toby was on the window sill in the kitchen, cleaning his paws and looking adorable.
Grrrrrr, we all said.
Phone rang.
Husband already at work.
'We've just saved a bunny but it died,' I told him.
Marvellous, he said.
Honestly. Husbands. Didn't bother telling him about the Racy Lacy knickers. Would have put him off his work and raised his blood pressure.
Washed head to toe...again... and made breakfast for everyone.
Where's Toby? asked Daughter.
Oh, Christ.
Out we all dash again... TOBEEEE,NOOOOOOO!

Can't wait for the Bloody Winter.


(Toby Himself...on top of the hedge, under which he inevitably finds his Rabbit Victims. )