I'd been doing a little belated spring cleaning at my rabbits'
web site recently - unfortunately, I haven't had much time to
keep it in good order and it's gotten a bit dusty. Sorting
through the old photo albums, scribblings, and knickknacks
that have accumulated over the years, I came across the old
Day Books of Esther, my first rabbit companion and home office
assistant.
Reading the dusty old pages really opened up the floodgates
of
memories of our times together, and I thought others might
enjoy a few excerpts from her prolific collected works. Here's
a small sampling from her diary:
It rained all day today. I love rainy days - mom can't do any
gardening so she stays in a plays with me.
We read the Sunday paper and listened to our attic squirrels
complain in the morning. Then after lunch mom gave me a great
massage - just the thing to work out all the tensions from the
week. Most people don't know how hard it is to be a bunny.
We're wired to stay alert all the time, always listening and
watching for danger. That can really take its toll on the
nerves!
By the evening I was ready to kick back and enjoy some lovely
Mozart concertos while mom caught up on her work. A perfect
ending to a perfect day!
Let me tell you the REAL story before you hear any distorted
versions from other sources.
All through the night the attic squirrels were hatching plots,
and the invasion was launched at the crack of dawn, as the
advance forces entered through the hole in the kitchen
ceiling. It was a diabolical plan, and everything went like
clockwork from the beginning. Mom was still asleep and
sweeping through the first floor like a well-oiled . . . uhm,
. . . a well-oiled tornado, the sinister rodents rampaged,
breaking and chewing everything in their path and sending
chills through my heart with their bloodcurdling squeaks -
"eerk, eerk, eerk!"
Always on the alert, I cleverly dashed up to the third floor
as the squirrel troop thundered up to the second floor - there
must have been hundreds of them - and I quickly took a
defensive position at the top of the stairs.
Still no signs of life from mom - was she DEAF?!?! I thumped
a
message - "Hey wake up, the barbarians are at the gates!"
As
the swarm overran the second floor, I was bravely guarding the
third floor . . . yeah, that's it . . I was protecting the
office. There's lots of important stuff there.
A final ear-splitting CRASH followed by the hysterical
chattering of the unruly mob at last aroused mom from her
peaceful slumber and she launched a clever counteroffensive,
chasing the varmints out the door - one escaped out the
bedroom window.
Mom had a slightly different interpretation of the morning's
events. As she demonstrated how one of the whacked-out
squirrels bounced off the bed and literally flew past her face
into the closet in its desperation to escape, she claimed the
misguided rodents had ACCIDENTALLY FALLEN through the hole and
in their panicky search for an exit had knocked ONE wooden cat
off a window sill. Three exited through the front door when
mom propped it open and circled around to herd them out. The
fourth went out the bedroom window, almost taking a nearby
lamp with it as it sailed through the opening. Yeah. Sure.
Four panicked squirrels ("they were just babies, too,"
mom
added), trying to get out. I don't think so!
Anyway, you can understand why after that exhausting adventure
I just wanted to curl up in the security of my favorite box.
But, because I was so concerned about mom's state of mind, I
decided to stick very close by her for the day. Yeah, that's
it, I had to protect mom.
It was about 99 degrees in the house today - way too hot to
work. This kind of weather seems to occur every year around
this time, and I've learned the best thing to do when it's too
hot to hop is absolutely nothing. So that's what I did.
Of course, mom decided this was the perfect day to paint the
kitchen. Soon she was back, looking considerably worse for the
wear, complaining the "the paint keeps dripping down the
wall.
I give up!"
Gee, mom, why do you suppose it's doing that? Could it be,
maybe, because IT'S HOT!?!?! Hellooo! Wake up and smell your
brain frying!
Honestly, I love my mom, and all, but sometimes I can't help
thinking she's just a few lettuce leaves short of a head . . .
if you know what I mean.
Yes, I was the one who moved mom's shoe into the doorway -
in
exactly the spot she wasn't expecting it to be. I thought it
looked better there than tucked up against the wall with its
mate. I'm sure you'd agree if you'd seen the way I'd
artistically draped the partly chewed laces over the top and
delicately balanced the shoe on its side.
It was a real work of art - until mom walked in an stumbled
over it! Was it my fault mom is a clutz? No, I'm not going to
let mom make me feel guilty, even if she does her best to limp
around and try to look pathetic. A rabbit just has to have a
little creative license around the house. Am I right?
I'm starting to get that itch to shed again - not the routine
kind of shedding all furry creatures practice on a daily
basis, but the heavy-duty molting that we're preoccupied with
once or twice a year. The kind that produces those handsful of
floating fur that settle all over the house like so many dust
bunnies.
Mom doesn't approve. She suggested that, just to be different,
I try keeping my old fur and just growing in my winter coat
over the summer coat. Obviously, she knows nothing about
maintaining a healthy, luxurious coat. No self-respecting
bunny would even think of hanging on to an out-of-season coat
- it's just not done! Also, shedding is lots of fun. When the
urge comes we just can't resist it! I feel my fur loosening up
already.
I just don't trust that big black plastic trash can in the
office. Just this morning I was minding my own business,
nibbling on the rug in the hall when, out of the corner of my
eye I saw it creeping down the stairs. Mom said she was
carrying it down to empty the trash, but I don't buy it.
There's something sinister about its black shiny surface - you
never know what it's thinking.
Later I discovered it sitting in my favorite sunning spot,
on
the second floor landing. I was just hopping over for a nice
sunbath when suddenly, without a word of warning, it was
towering over me, blocking my sun! Sure mom claimed she left
it there 'cause she didn't feel like going up to the third
floor to put it in its corner, but all the same I felt a lot
safer under the bed until it was gone. I just don't trust it.
What a fuss over a little late night panic attack! You'd think
a rabbit never woke her human up at 4 a.m. with the sound of
claws scraping frantically on bare floor trying to get some
traction, the fur-muffled crash of a close encounter with the
door on her hasty retreat, and the clang of her food dish
sliding into the storage cabinet as she skidded past on the
way to safety! It's true I can't say exactly what it was that
spooked me, but I'm sure it was really scary.
What's the big deal? How hard could it be to get back into
a
sound sleep after being startled awake? I don't know anything
about that "adrenaline" mom said was keeping her awake
or how
it got into her system at the time. Maybe she's been drinking
too much coffee.
Anyway I couldn't do anything about it. I was sound asleep
again by 4:02 a.m.
Esther continued to write in her Day Book and producing
monthly columns right up to her passage over the Rainbow
Bridge later in October 1997.
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