How Did I Wind Up As the Grave Digger

My girlfriend has asked me to dig a grave for a friend's pet rabbit, again. Not exactly on my list of favorite things to do. How did I wind up needing to dig the holes for her friend's rabbits? Logical question isn't it? See if you can follow this. The most recent deceased rabbit is the offspring of my girlfriend's rabbit (a rabbit we believed to be male until it had bunnies). The other rabbit was this rabbit's sire. She gave both rabbits to her friend at the same time if I remember correctly. So naturally it is up to us to see that these rabbits' are taken care of when they go to the great prairie in the sky. I don't mind digging the hole, really I don't. I will do whatever Christina wants me to do within reason and some things without reason. I don't even mind the funeral service that will ensue tonight once Christina gets home from work. We will put the rabbit in the hole. Christina will say a few words, then she will pour out a good amount of beer from a 40oz Old English, take a drink herself and cover the hole with dirt. If I were still a drinking man, I would be appalled at the waste. I am not so I am not. I love the way she loves her, and her friends' animals. I like animals. I take good care of my d o g. I will be miserable for a long time when it is his time to go, but I have difficulty extending that to other domestic animals including rabbits. Pretty much anything that is not a dog or a horse. Maybe a miniature goat would be different. I don't know. I have never had a goat, but I could see myself as a goat person. Anyway, I am off to dig a hole. BTW, Christina still has her rabbit. Her name is Pepper. She is a cool rabbit and really likes Cheerios.