Duck season. Rabbit season!

Back to reality. After a week off and four days of watching golf (five if you count today watching on TV) it's back to work and the drudgery of everyday life.

I chose not to return to Bulle Rock for today's final round for a few reasons. (1) Paula wasn't in contention. (2) It's hot, and I'm tired of being baked by the Sun. (3) After four days of 7am to 8pm traveling, I needed to refresh at home. (4) The final round is best enjoyed on TV.

Meanwhile, the cat seems to be relishing his new found freedom. He's been cooped-up here for the week, and a trip outdoors this morning brought back his primal instincts.

Shortly after leaving him outside for what I thought would be a nice breath of fresh air, he returned with a baby rabbit in his teeth. I saw him on the porch, but I disregarded what I thought I saw in his tiny teeth as he nonchalantly strolled in the house and deposited the little critter on my living room floor.

Not knowing if it was dead or merely unconscious, I quickly ran for a nearby box to scoop it up before the inevitable ptomaine or some Rabbit Flu set in. And yes, I cleaned the carpet.

The cat, to his credit, spent the ensuing minutes sniffing it and walking around in a circle, apparently proud of his accomplishment. I put the little guy in a box (shown) and unceremoniously pitched him into the common area for the birds to peck at. He's a baby - about 4 inches long - and it seems he never had a chance. As far as I know about such things, cats pounce on them and bite the back of their neck and sever some artery, quickly killing their prey.

What's odd is that, every morning, I come across an adult rabbit on the way to my car. Had I known, I'd have warned him (her?) that a killer cat could be on the prowl, and it might be wise to impose a curfew on his (her?) kids.

Ain't nature wonderful?