Dear Forest Animals,

Dear Forest Animals (especially the families of Bambi and Thumper),

I know you are probably still in shock at the loss of Thumper.  Especially after loosing Bambi just months ago.  I don't know if this letter will even make much of a difference coming from the wife of the man that slaughtered your furry family.  But I must at least try.

I should have seen the red flags years ago.  I specifically remember before our wedding vows, hearing the story of his teenage years and how one bright and unsuspecting summer day, there was an "accident" involving a lawn mower and a turtle.  Little did I know it was the start of something sinister.

Years later, a bunny rabbit and her babies were enjoying the new life spring brings.  Laying out under a pile of grass, staying warm, the bunnies again had no idea their lives would soon change forever. With the same weapon of destruction, the vicious blades of the mower spun rapidly toward their little home.  The sound would have drowned out any screams the babies could have made. Before they knew it, the big, red machine was recklessly over them and all they could do was duck and cover.  When it was all said and done, one bunny was bleeding, the others forever traumatized.

Here's the thing, little baby bunnies, once precious animal blood has been shed, there is a thirst for more.  The desire may lay dormant for months, even years... But it does come back.

Last year, after a day of frolicking through the meadows and quiet drinks by the stream, Bambi took an evening stroll.  She quickly crossed the street, only to be met with a beastly vehicle and bright lights.  Hopefully it was quick and the bright lights of the car were forever replaced with the shining light of deer heaven.  But perhaps Bambi's death was not quite so disturbing as the comments made by the man just shortly after the atrocity, "What kind of animal runs right in front of a car?" ...I kid you not.  I can only hope the pain lies somewhere deep inside.

Flash forward to last night.  While lying in bed, the perpetrator says rather casually and without concern, "I hit a rabbit tonight." Ummm, okay. Let's rewind, sir.  "What?!" I said in shock and disbelief, "you killed a rabbit?" and without skipping a beat he said, "He zigged when he should of zagged."

So, there you have it forest creatures. I want to say it will never happen again.  I want to say there's a morsel of good left in this world.  But I cannot.  All  I can do is leave you with this stern warning: Keep your loved ones close.

Your Friend,

The Wife