It was something one of our killer cats might have done. Lord knows they’ve wiped out half the wildlife in Osage County; birds, lizards, snakes, pretty much anything that moves including baby rabbits. Now before you jump on me and tell me to keep the serial killers inside, let me direct you to the Missus. She’s the cat lady. My only interaction with the “little darlings” is to throw heavy objects in their direction when they misbehave, which is like…constantly.
So when I get a desperate call from my daughter that one of her cats has captured a young rabbit and the cuddly cottontail is now somewhere under her refrigerator, I was not surprised, cats being cats. I ignored the message hoping the problem would work itself out, but no. The rabbit was not only still under the massive fridge, but had died a slow–– and I assume–– agonizing death. Damn cats. The kitchen was taking on the aroma of dead rabbit, enough to make a buzzard puke I’m told, and would I please get over there and get it out? I had a mental image of Mike Rowe in Dirty Jobs cleaning the most vile things imaginable. If Mike could do it and hold his lunch…
Two steps inside the door, the severity of the problem hit me, right square in the olfactory center. Sweet Baby Jesus. Where was Mike Rowe when I needed him? With one last breath of fresh air, I fought my way through the stench to the kitchen where I used my trusty flashlight to search for the remains. Nothing, no sign of it, except for the smell of course.
Who knew refrigerators had so many tubes and coils and lumpy objects cramped and crammed in their underbellies? After much searching, lying in the water, oh, did I forget to tell you that the water line for the icemaker was leaking? I did find the shutoff valve, but not before the flooding occurred. Anyway, after more searching, the fluffy remains were spotted, behind a wire grill with about a one inch spacing. No way to remove the bunny from that direction, unless…Yes, you guessed it, pull it though the grill piece by stinkin’ piece. I suppose an appliance repair guy could have done it in a more orderly and professional fashion, removing whatever coils needed removing, but Mike Rowe would have laughed at me. “Woosy! Little girly man can’t take the smell? C’mon, suck it up.”
Let’s raise our hands. How many out there have ever used a pair of long nose pliers to pull putrid rabbit remains from beneath a refridgerator? That’s what I thought. I did it. Once. Never again. I’m positive my sense of smell suffered permanent damage. Sensors, thousands of them, were seared closed, never to function again. My nostrils are still twitching, sort of like, well,… a bunny rabbit.