As a child, I was pretty much on the gullible side
– or perhaps just wanted so much to believe in the unreal that I tried to make
it real.
I recall an Easter when my Aunt Alice purchased
two white bunnies. She gave the bunnies
to the children of her two brothers.
Patrick and I called ours “Pinky” (though Patrick himself most likely
didn’t have anything to do with the naming; it sounds like I came up with the
name and forced him to go along) and Kevin and Michelle named their rabbit
“Greenfeet” or so I believed.
I was fascinated by both Dr. Seuss “Horton”
stories – in the latter, the egg hatched at the end of the story and out came a
bird that had Horton’s head. How
fascinating. I wondered if it would work
on rabbits as well. It doesn’t.
Never mind that Pinky was only three or four weeks, totally uncooperative
and wouldn’t sit on the egg unless I was holding her on top of it (or him. I don’t think I really knew if Pinky was male
or female. I don’t really guess I
thought about it one way or the other. I
never thought of Horton as male or female.
I was not all that bright) but I had taken the egg from the
refrigerator. Placed it outside near a
bush in our backyard (Pinky was usually in a cage on the inside of the house)
but I didn’t want my mom to find out what I was doing.
I don’t recall how many weeks went by before a
rotten odor was detected coming from the direction of that bush. Not only was I not getting a half bird/half
bunny. I had wasted (and forgotten
about) the egg.
Pinky and Greenfeet both died within the first
three months. I think they were “loved”
to death. All that I have left now is this story. I don’t even know if Pinky's bones remain in my
mom’s former backyard. Probably.
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