Sounds like the title of a Lou Reed album, doesn't it? But it isn't. Drusilla, as some of you may recall, is a rabbit. I was having my mid-morning blended feed today, just chillin' idly, as you do when you're waiting for gravity to do its magic work through the syringe, when she suddenly spoke up:
Drusilla: "I know you'll eat me eventually. Like you did Hamish."
Here's me: "Well, I don't know about that. I mean, I didn't put you in this blend, did I?"
Drusilla: "It's alright, I don't mind. Just like you, I was born to die."
Here's me: "Deep philosophy from a rabbit now, huh?"
Drusilla: "What, you don't remember Watership Down?"
Here's me: "Attitude, too. Is it that you actually want me to eat you?"
Drusilla: "Like I said, I don't mind. It's certain that I will eventually go The Way Of All Things. When is unimportant."
Here's me: "Look, for starters, I gave you to Meeta for Easter so it's her call in the first place."
Drusilla: "You want to get into the moral philosophy of owning another lifeform?"
Here's me: "You're a chocolate rabbit."
Drusilla: "You're talking to me."
Here's me: "Yeah, but you started it."
Drusilla was silent for a moment. It actually seemed she turned a little away from me.
Here's me again: "I'm guessing that you consider yourself alive, then."
Drusilla: "Isn't it you who claims that everything is the same stuff - that I'm as much God as you are?"
Here's me: "Fair enough. I had to put up with Hamish banging on about his supposed past exploits and bragging about how he could best Niagara Falls and survive the Vitamix unscathed so it's not incongruent chatting with you, I guess. You didn't seem upset in the least when he got smashed to bits, I must say."
Drusilla: "He knew exactly what would happen. You talk about 'supposed' exploits; all that stuff was real, you know - what would you know of the soul of a chocolate rabbit?"
Here's me: "Only as much as I'd know about my own, I suppose. But really, you weren't upset, and it does seem you actually want to get eaten. Why is this? Doesn't life always want to go on? Isn't that the definition of life - a mode whose only constant is the move towards continuance?"
Drusilla: "I have no reason to be upset at the inevitable, and besides, it's what he wanted - what he was made for. Same as me, except I'm not a daredevil rabbit. You could say I'm more of a philosopher. Or a stirrer, at any rate. Yes, I want to be eaten. It is what best fulfils my purpose. I would rather not be just forgotten in a cupboard or left to melt on a windowsill; but if that's my fate, well, so be it. I just have an aesthetic preference for outcomes to match design purposes. I am chocolate, after all."
Drusilla's non-preferred final form.
Can't fault the logic there and I find myself admiring her integrity of being. I start to wish that I could be as integrated with my thoughts and feelings as this small milk chocolate rabbit is. As in touch with my sense of purpose, as at ease with the notion of death being ideally a mirror of the life that went before, but that if it isn't, then that doesn't matter either. Life would be a lot simpler for a chocolate rabbit, I'm thinking.
Here's me: "Maybe you're a bit like that creature in the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe, the one who's been bred especially to want to be eaten - even suggests good cuts to it's prospective diners."
Drusilla: "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just a chocolate rabbit."
Here's me: (with an idea) "You are what you eat, they say."
Here's me: "Thanks, I do believe I will eat you. Or at least a bit of you. I'm sure Meeta won't mind. It'll be a couple of days though, alright?"
Drusilla: "Dude, like....whatever."
Clearly, some people have a more literal take on this concept.
I shall post pictures and any final words when Drusilla's time comes.