CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Sometimes I get the feeling my Creator was inspired by Disney since I have far more than the average person's share of Bambi and Thumper moments.
Case in point: Last week, I went outside to collect my Gazette, and there in my front yard was Stew, our oversize yellow rabbit.
(A Disneyesque aside: Stew was supposed to be a dwarf rabbit, but the only thing small about her is her 14th chin. And she's working on that.)
So Stew was stretched out in the yard, lazily nibbling clover, when I disrupted her early-morning repose. The expression on her face was an easy-to-read, "Oh, crap. Busted." I saw her tensing to run.
Now, Stew has escaped a few times before, and the last thing I felt like doing was chasing an obese rabbit around the neighborhood at 6 in the morning. Granted, she's fat, but she's still far faster than me, so rather than race, I returned to the house and got a package of Pop-Tarts. The s'mores-flavored kind. Her favorite.
I returned to the yard, tore open the package and broke the Pop-Tart in half. I held up the half in one hand, then pointed to the backyard. Said, "Get back there and you can have this."
Without a moment's hesitation, Stew raced around the side of the house, squirted her girth under her freshly dug fence hole, and then turned immediately around on the other side. I tossed her the Pop-Tart.
Wishing like heck someone was around to witness what just happened.
I had ordered a rabbit and it followed my instructions.
But no such luck. I was alone.
When I turned around, there in front of me was our new little black rabbit, sitting right about where Stew had been just moments before.