C.P.R.

Snow swirled past my eyes pushed by an early March wind, the thermometer read twenty one degrees and the ice began to melt and soak through the knees of my jeans. I cradled her in my hands, tilted her head back, and breathed hard into her mouth, one, two, three times. Putting her head quickly but gently down I began the compressions placing one of my palms two fingers below the top of her breastbone and covering it with the other, locking my elbows, and thrusting down. Fifteen compressions. Is that what they said in CPR? I couldn't remember for sure. Tilting her head back, I began breathing again. Three more times. I felt panic and frantically tried the compressions once more. There was no response. I started to cry silently but breathed again into that still face. More compressions. Desperate.

Carol stood on the porch overlooking the frozen back yard, cradling her arms against herself to try and form a shield against the wind and snow. She hollered that it was no use, it was over, let it go. She was crying too. I laid the lifeless body down and stood up, brushing the snow away from my legs as I turned to face her. She just shook her head, turned, and walked back through the door. She started to laugh and commented that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever seen. I watched the door close behind her and was alone. Alone and afraid, standing there in that snow, knowing I had no choice but to face the inevitable.

I pushed the door open and found several nurses and a doctor standing in the hall and they were laughing also. I couldn't breathe, I was caught up in all the emotion and staring at those faces was more than any man should have to bear. I asked after Carol and the doctor said she had gone out the front, out to the car. He put his arm on my shoulder and explained to me that it was just an expression. They don't use real rabbits, the one out behind the clinic was just a coincidence. When he said the rabbit died it simple meant that Carol was pregnant. No one had ever actually ran out back, found a dead rabbit, and tried to breathe life into it before. She was pregnant and that's all there was to it. There was nothing I could do; saving a rabbit could not un-do a pregnancy.

Well what the hell, gave it a shot. I hopped in the car and told Carol how elated I was to get the news. Another child, our fourth, Yippee!

My dad said that a fellow he knew summed it up pretty well one time. The guy had ten kids and when he was asked what he thought of their brand new baby he said, "Wouldn't take a million dollars for him, wouldn't give a dime for another one just like him, but wouldn't take a million."

You may love your children as much as I do mine but you don't love them more. That would be impossible. If you see one of my kids, don't mention the rabbit thing. Wouldn't want that getting out. You understand.



Driving Tip: If you ever have to back up a trailer, go to a big empty parking lot and practice before you try to put it between your Cadillac and the neighbor's Mercedes. Put your hand on the bottom of the steering wheel instead of the top. If you want the trailer to go left, pull the bottom of your steering wheel to the left. GO SLOW. If the thing starts to go the wrong way, stop. Pull ahead a couple feet and try again. Remember! "YOU ARE SMARTER THAN A TRAILER!" Keep telling yourself that.