And so as I walked, the rhythm of my feet moved to the quiet whisper in my heart that said, "Do the right thing." The entire walk... "Do the right thing."
And so upon my arrival home, I got a bag and a shovel, and I prayerfully removed the little one from the street. My car willingly took on the role of hearse, and we drove out to one of my favorite quiet places in the country. There I gazed at my mountains, prayed another small prayer for the small creature, and I fingered the little, fuzzy paws before laying the body between two strong trees. "This is all I know to do for you little rabbit."
Sometimes doing the right thing is so very hard, but it frees. It frees.