I thought I would talk about bunnies today. There is a reason.

Years ago, Aunt Nonnie trained a little bunnie to actually come and eat out of her fingers. It was quite cute. Aunt Nonnie was a strange little person but she did love babies and animals.

The nest story I have to tell is a sad one.

I was walking with Chelsea this morning and ran into a gentleman in front of his house. He told me that he had let his son's dog out the back door that morning and immediately saw a mother bunny running away trying to distract the dog. Then he saw several babies running the opposite direction just as the dog saw them. A couple of the babies were killed by the dog and he felt so bad. It is hard to be angry with a dog who is just acting according to his nature. And we certainly are not going to miss a bunny or two in this neighborhood. But one does feel so bad that a poor little creature dies so violently.

Zero, my previous dog, did that once. He got a baby bunny coming out of its hole and he was terribly proud. He carried it all the way home and immediately forgot about it.

One day, shortley after we moved to this address, Chelsea and I took a walk around the house and as rounded the corner, I saw a baby bunny huddled up next to the house. Chelsea is NO hunter and is not too observant either. Thank Heavens. I was so startled and when it didn't move, I reached down and stroked its little back. It was trembling and absolutely paralized with fear. All I could see was a grey little body and big black eyes. Then I suddenly realized that if Chelsea DID see it she would hurt it just by exuberance so we continued on our way.

So two stories of life and two of death. All part of the scheme of things I guess.

Mother's neighbor found a rabbit's nest in her garden last year. She decided that she was going to just dispose of those babies before they could grow to become destroyers of her plants. She lifted them out of the nest and set them aside. Then she looked at them and they were so cute that she put them back. I like that. Three stories of life are better than two.

D. H. Lawrence said that "I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself."

Mary