Recently I wrote about the unfortunate demise of a small bunny in my garden. I’m not sure what the cause of death was, but I suspect it’s related to the smallness of the bunny, because a number of smallish likely predators scout the place, and a coyote would have taken it away. By the time I happened on it, crows were busy redistributing portions of it into the birdbath. Various guts appeared on the edge of the raised concrete beds, prominently, like a warning to other stray abdominal tissue to stay the hell away. It was a situation.

So, I reasoned that if I was allowed to put chicken bones in my yard debris container, I could put the bunny in there too. After all, people eat bunnies.

As it happens, that was not the correct thing to do with my ex-bunny. I looked it up. I looked it up, in fact, in time to rectify the situation, but the critter was buried under two feet of yard debris and I wasn’t of a mind to dig for it. The garbage company has not reached out to me about it and it’s been a week, so I think I’m in the clear.

What I was supposed to do was triple-bag the late lagomorph in plastic and put it in the garbage can. This offends my plastic-avoiding soul. I’ve been reusing the same ten Ziploc bags for years. The reasoning behind the egregious plastic use is to prevent offensive odors from fouling the neighborhood before garbage day, which is valid, although I have a flowering plant that does exactly that.

There are a number of interesting items in the city code website. For instance, I am under no circumstances to bury a cow, horse, or other large deceased animal in the city limits. This situation doesn’t come up often, but I made a note of it. I could bury a small animal on my property, and burying it the yard debris bin doesn’t count. Also? I am never to spit on the sidewalk, even though there is no designated loogie zone provided. I am never to burn clothes in any burial ground in the city, or scrape a skeleton. You wouldn’t think such a thing would come up often around here, but, speaking of offensive odors, I once observed a neighbor tanning a deer hide in a boiling vat of her own urine right across the alley. (I was fascinated.)

I am responsible for the prompt lawful disposal of any carcass on my own property although the city will pick it up if it’s on public land, which is why you occasionally see squirrel squirtage skid-marks down people’s driveways and into the gutter. The county website adds: “We encourage finders of deceased animals to be as specific as possible to describe the location and nature of each find, position relative to the curb, and any bags or containers used, as face-to-face clarifications with officers are to be avoided as much as possible.” I don’t know what this is about, but perhaps the occupation of carrion-scooper attracts a sociopathic element.

But wait! What’s this? Right in the middle of the what-to-do-with-your-dead-animal page is a whole section just about bunnies. Apparently I was supposed to contact the Oregon Department of Agriculture, which is tracking the spread of rabbit hemorrhagic disease virus 2. Honestly. I messed this up big time.

That’s about it, except I was pleased to run into the word “deadstock,” as opposed to livestock, and the following question on a forum: “I found a large dead animal in my compost. Can I still use it?”

No. It is no longer in operating condition.