A few minutes later, I looked up to find that Duchess had finally lived up to her bunnicidal mini-dachshund heritage, and the only thing left of Fluffy was a head, which she was happily chewing on. She glared mightily and defiantly swallowed that sad remnant when I tried to take it from her. Given the lack of further squeeking, I assume it was a quick death at least, but why didn't the idiot creature just stay hidden? Horrid dogs will no doubt be especially flatulent tonight.
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