Chasing Bunnies

Popcorn!

Popcorn.  It's one of the best things in the world.  Fluffy, salty popcorn.  Sister and I have a game whenever she makes popcorn: it's called "Popcorn from Heaven."  Here's how it works.  I lay at Sister's feet and every time I look away (as in not begging), a piece of popcorn flies through the air and lands right in front of my snout.  I scoff it up and look up toward Sister who is silently munching on a handful of popcorn.  She doesn't make eye contact with me and appears unlikely to accidentally drop the rest of the bowl on the floor, so I turn away.  And what happens?  Another piece of popcorn appears at my feet.  Now before you think that Sister is hogging the popcorn (one piece for the dog, five pieces for her) rest assured that I collected plenty of kernels as they shot uncontrollably out of the air-popper and across the room when Sister popped the bowl.

But as delicious as popcorn is, it's not the reason why I'm writing today.  No, today's story is about a stupid little bunny and why Pa is such a cool guy.

This story takes place out east.  Pa and I were outside patrolling the backyard which was ripe with the smell of passing deer, squirrels, and bunnies.  I was annoyed.  How am I supposed to keep interlopers out of my yard when I'm only there on weekends?  I mean, I do my best, but I've got other responsibilities (the other house, ripping toys, causing general havoc) and I can't reach the pedals on the car to drive myself out east. 

Anyway, I was stewing in my anger when I turned toward the bulkhead and saw one of those stupid little bunnies standing in the grass.  He turned toward me and wiggled his stupid little nose and I stared back at him.  Then he turned and ran north across the yard.  I followed after.

For the entire length of the yard, I was about five feet behind his stupid little fluffy tail.  But the yard did not go on indefinitely.  In fact, it ended with a stockade fence.  When the stupid little bunny reached it with me still five feet behind him thinking "Now I've got him," he made the mistake of counting on there being a little dugout hole in which he could slip under the fence and get away.  Well, there wasn't a convenient cutout and with a dull thud, the stupid little bunny bounced backward into the yard.

Without hesitation, the bunny shook off the failure, made a hard right, and started running toward the east side of the property.  After turning right as well, the chase continued with me now about ten feet behind his stupid little fluffy tail.  But, as before, the yard did not go on indefinitely, and this time it ended with a chain link fence.  When the stupid little bunny reached it with me now fifteen feet behind him thinking "Now [gasp] I've got him [gasp]," he made the mistake of counting on there being a little dugout hole in which he could slip under the fence and get away.  Well, there wasn't a convenient cutout and with a metallic clink, the stupid little bunny bounced backward into the yard.

But the bunny shook off that failure as well.  He made another hard right and started running toward the south side of the property.  After turning right as well, the chase continued with me now about twenty feet behind his stupid little fluffy tail.  But the yard has boundaries and the south side ended with a picket fence.  When the stupid little bunny reached it with me now twenty-five feet behind him thinking "This [gasp] time [gasp] I've [gasp] got [gasp] him [gasp]," he once again put the fate of his furry little tale in the belief there was a little dugout hole in which he could slip under the fence and get away. 

This time, he was right.  He slipped under the fence and scurried away.

With the bunny gone, I came to a stop alongside Pa who had been watching the chase unfold.  He patted my heaving side and said "It's okay Squirt, you let him go.  If you wanted to catch him you would have."

And that's why Pa is so cool.  He always knows what to say.