All that nesting fuss produced two healthy babies. Virginia is fine and seems to be doing excellent mothering.
I have been going outside to do barn chores through the front door because Buster is having a hard time making it down the back steps to come with me. This morning, if I hadn't gone out the front door, I wouldn't have found this little guy by the steps.
Hell, I saw spattered blood and thought he was dead. Picked him up and found him to be weak and scared but still kicking. There is a puncture wound on his neck and one front leg is useless. I tried to clip the bloody wool off, but when I got near the wound he let out that awful bunny squeal and struggled mightily to get away. I was able to put a little anti-robotic on him, and he ate several pieces of banana, so I'm thinking that he'll be okay if he makes it through tonight. I'll have to watch for infection. He might be a little crippled.
I don't know what got him. It wasn't Reeses, and I hope it wasn't Milly since she was raised by rabbits. Another cat? A neighbor's cat? Whatever tried to kill this one is probably the same thing that took all of the new babies next door. Every single one. So. Sweetie is on the warpath with the live traps again.
