Barnie Prepares for the Easter Parade

     The sun was out, the temperature was above 40 and spring seemed to be beckoning to me this morning.
     I felt wonderful given that over the past 48 hours, I had been dealing with a nasty stomach virus.  Now that it had subsided, I felt like a new woman.  
     But I emerged from my sick bed with a question:  Just who breathed sickness on me while I was away this past weekend?  Did the little girl with curly red ringlets, wearing a flowered dress, who looked a little green around the gills, commit germ warfare at a family function I attended?
     Channeling my best Mother Theresa/Ghandi/Oprah persona, I decided to abandon my quest for culpability.
     Instead, I fired up the red Mercedes and drove over to Home Depot for grass seed, mulch and fertilizer.
     This year, despite having three dogs who do unspeakable things to my lawn, the least of which is grazing on it, I am determined to improve its appearance from large patches of dirt and some green grass with lots of green weeds to an expanse of green (any way I can get it). 
     I decided that I needed to consult a professional, and I was referred to a Home Depot employee who appeared to be up there in years (experienced!) wearing thick aqua eye liner on her eyelids that looked, frankly, bizarre.  Despite the fact that we were outdoors and there was a breeze, she wore a paper mask that covered her mouth and nose.  I thought, "why am I buying garden supplies when this woman knows a plague is about to kill us?" but then I thought, "who would stop to put on eyeliner when a plague is imminent?"
      So rather than dash on out of there to find a safe house in the Galapagos, I told Aqua Eyes of my lawn troubles.  Somehow we communicated through the mask, and I bought several items, excluding pesticides, as I'm trying to cut down on carcinogens.
      I returned home with my supplies, and did my lawn thing, which sadly seemed laughable as the seed and fertilizer went everywhere.  I expect that there will be grass in the flower beds but nothing on the lawn.  To try and counteract that possibility, I started spreading mulch around the beds, and what did I discover?  It's so awful, I almost can't put it in writing:  A rabbit warren.  Yes, dear readers, a rabbit warren.
      Every year, at least one insane rabbit builds a warren in my yard where there are three, count them, three dogs, who though domesticated and often act like babies, still have a solid prey drive.  I feel it is my duty to watch over the baby rabbits, who are totally helpless in the warren and then hop around relatively slowly when they first emerge from it.  I am morally bound to assist the rabbits until it dawns on them (and it does pretty quickly) that they better get their rabbit butts out of this dog infested property.
       So last night, when my oldest dog,Tony, had to go out at 4 in the morning, I told Edward that he needed to accompany him to make certain that Tony did not disturb the rabbit warren.
        Let me sum up Edward's reaction by simply saying that he is not a rabbit lover.
        I'm in this alone, folks.