Die, Bunnies, Die! Confessions of Cruelty to Cottontails

I'm not proud of this. I don't expect you to understand. I just ask that you walk a mile in my shoes without stepping in bunny poo.

The other day I went to the hardware store looking for a humane method to scare the patootie out of bunnies. Here's why:

• Dogs pee on grass and kill it.
• I replant grass.
• Bunnies eat new grass.
• Bunnies poop in new grass.
• Dogs eat bunny poo.
• Dogs barf bunny poo on carpet.

The circle of life needed to stay off my living room rug.

Normal dogs chase bunnies. My dogs chase shadows and people with macaroni & cheese. Knowing this, the bunny family invited their extended family, the ground squirrels, who in turn informed the local sparrow gang that grass seed was being served fresh daily. After gorging on Marathon Pro II seed, the birds would gather to bicker about whether my patio furniture would look more appealing in puce or taupe, literally dropping many 'hints' that the current color could use an improvement.

It was getting downright insulting. I'd come home from work to find bunnies lounging in the yard, literally lying down as they ate. All they needed was a sixpack and a Packer game on tv. The squirrel family let their bratty kids run roughshod through my impatiens. I'd point this out to the dogs and they would give me the "What do you want from us? We're dogs" look. That's basically their look all the time, but at this point, it was a pretty shoddy excuse.

The hardware store had an array of scare-em tactics. I found myself purveying a large inflatable snake for $12.99, until I realized I would probably forget it was fake and freak my own self out more than the animals. (And I'm not even addressing the Freudian aspects of that.) No good - the sparrows would have a fit, since the snake clashed with the patio furniture. There was also:

• some sour stuff you could spray on the grass - after a doggy taste test, I could see that being hacked up on the living room carpet tout-suite.
• Chicken wire fencing - nope - last Easter, the squirrels had given the bunnies a custom-made rapelling set. Might as well install a jungle gym for Junior Bunny.
• Motion-detector sprinkler - this held promise, until I remembered the time I used a hose in an attempt to flush the squirrels from their underground lair. They just converted their rec room into a spa, and their property value doubled.

As much as I didn't want to hurt the bunnies, I was getting desperate. My lawn was disappearing - I had to kick cottontail ass or risk, horror of horrors, admonishment from the homeowners' association.

I found my solution in the strangest of places - the clearance rack at the local music store. Apparently small, suburban furry folk abhor Barry Manilow tunes as much as the rest of us. And if they somehow develop a tolerance for that (twitch!) music, I've readied a recording of ESPN's Stuart Scott. To be on the safe side, does anyone have a David Hasselhoff album I could borrow? Please don't tell PETA.