My dog found a rabbit's nest and killed 3 of the babies. The last baby hid under our air conditioner. Mr. Babe fished it out. It was the cutest thing ever, and actually fit in the palm of his hand. Of course, the girls begged us to keep it, and we foolishly let it in the house. We made a little home for it in a box and my daughter, against my advice, named it Rocket in honor of Roger Clemens. While I was at CVS buying a baby bottle to feed the damn thing, Mr. Babe called to say that Rocket had expired, apparently of fright.