Walking backward up the slope that leads to the RV garage, which the animatronic zoo calls home for 11.75 months, the 7-foot Hopper Zombie Rabbit heavily rests its upper body on my shoulder while I rock the base in a stepping motion. As I try to get the mutant bunny out of the morning rain, I think about how easily I could die doing this.
The Dumb Ways to Die song starts chirping through my brain. Well, let’s see. My feet are, of course, still dreadful and twisted, and thus my balance is consistently off, walking backward with a top-heavy, 40-pound creature cutting into my upper ribcage. Heels scuff on the pavement, tossing my balance off further; I go backward, hitting my head hard on the concrete, then the animal’s heavy noggin falls full-force on mine, crushing my skull. My last thought, as my consciousness fades to black, is, “These weren’t supposed to be set up until a week before Halloween! Why did they drag out my petting zoo this early knowing it could rain . . . ?”
But I didn’t fall. Nor did I fall last week walking up the mountain home steps carrying glass bowls that, if I’d stumbled, could shatter, slicing my jugular as I splashed down. I also didn’t die while wielding a heavy knife to cut down some stubborn weeds the week before that, picturing it slipping and severing my femoral artery. I can’t help but wonder: Could I, would I be brave enough (as my grandfather was when he’d done as much) to reach inside my bloody thigh and clamp it off until help arrived?
The one constant about these incidents is that I’m alone and will be for several hours or even a couple of days. It’s the flip-side of treasuring the peace and serenity of being by myself. I picture knowing full well that I’m going to die and trying to pose my soon-to-be-corpse in a somewhat attractive position for when I’m found; it’s the price I pay for semisanity, I suppose.
As brutal as my imagination is when perceiving possible death throes over silly, everyday missteps, I am now oddly confident I won’t be murdered in my home by some random or nonrandom perpetrator. Thanks to chicken murders and break-ins, we now have cameras linked everywhere. Besides, I have my trusty boars, deer and of course Norther Winslow (elk) watching over me, grateful to spend an eternity looking upon the beautiful nature they love, coming to life and leaping from the walls, flying toward the evil to slice the intruder to bits with antlers and heavy rubber teeth!
Irrational? Sure! Although I do believe that since we are all energy and all things are made of energy, their latent energy coming to my defense is conceivable. Unlikely, sure, but hey, weirder things have happened!
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