Our Delightful Little Visitor

For those who might be following The Incredible Adventures of Jim and the Bunny (my stories on Facebook), here is a new chapter:

Over the past few weeks, a bold little bunny in my backyard has been losing almost all its natural fear of me, as it waits for me to bring it and its sibling some feed a couple times every evening. The other night, it stood a few feet away as I approached with a cup of grain. I talked to the rabbit the whole time, then dumped the feed. Before I turned to leave, Bunny dove right in and started munching.

The next night, I walked through the back door to our garage and closed the door behind me. I looked out the window to see the rabbit had run right up to the door. It knew I was in there and that that was where its meals were coming from.

Last night, the topper. I went out into the backyard for something and left the garage door open. When I returned a little grey blur, also known as Bunny, came shooting out of the garage. It seems it has decided to fetch its own feed from now on.

Last summer, our son often sat in a lawnchair on nice days under a maple tree at the back of our lot, reading a book. Several times, a little rabbit headed straight for him and sat by the lawnchair as he read. We think it was this guy or gal.

I am not sure how long it will be before Bunny will be sitting on our couch watching TV with me, but whenever it happens, I will bring out the Looney Tunes tape I have, with Bugs and the gang.

I think My Bunny would like that.

©2021 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.