Happy Easter Meets Fatal Attraction

We lived out in the country, and anyone who has lived near a farm, or near farming hunter types, knows that animals in your neighborhood don't usually have long lives. Indeed, at the passing of an animal, you rarely hear things about good lives and times to go and the like.

No, it's usually some tragic, often horrific and untimely end. Cars hit your cats, dogs eat your chickens, the slaughter truck pulls up at the cow farm across the street. Dump trucks cut the neighbor's dog in half, cats die from eating rats that have been poisoned and are then found during your birthday party, your dad accidentally backs over family goat. Parakeet kills two mates, lays an egg months later and dies - that was weird and still unexplained but a totally different kind of story. Still, all true.

Anyway, as a kid, you have to get used to the carnage. What you don't have to get used to, but what makes you popular with the other country kids, is a mom who - god knows why - freezes dead animals in the basement freezer along side the summer berries and Popsicles. On any given day you could usually find an animal from each species: a salamander, a chickadee, a snake, and/or turtle and/or cat, fish, whatever. That was the decade of the little old lady asking, "Where's the beef?" and believe you me, that's what we were asking, too.

All this leads me to my Easter story. My mom might have been a crazed Ms. Hyde in the freezer, but she was a genius Dr. Jekyll when it came to holidays and birthdays. We had themes and events and games and you name it. For some reason Easter was a particular favorite, and I know to this day, at the ages of 32 and 38 (holy crap, Josh, 38?), were we to live near my mom we would still not only get baskets, but would be sent on an egg hunt as well. So there I was, seven or thereabouts, big Easter party planned, families and kids coming over, and my parents decide to barbecue rabbit. And there I was, seven or thereabouts, and I thought nothing of it. Wouldn't most little girls have cried? Perhaps yet another cat had recently died and I was all out of tears, or maybe it was just another in a long line of dead animals, but it didn't phase me one iota. I suppose I just thought, "Bunny. It's what's for dinner."

Happy Easter, everyone. Enjoy it for it's true meaning: chocolate, candy and egg hunts.