This one little rabbit, this class-clown of a coney, a gutsy little bugger, has been gunning for Duncan for days now. I've seen him huddled along the fence between the apartment and Bowles. He waits for my ambling dog, waits until Duncan is almost upon him and then springs straight up and dashes off across the lawn. If my life was a cartoon there'd be loud sound effects accompanying him, a SPRONG and a puff of smoke as his feet leave the earth along with a KA-ZING and a trail of dust as he speeds away in manic little zigs and psychotic little zags.
Tonight, though, the little beast ratcheted it up a notch, as if the challenge of waiting until the lumbering oaf was almost upon him wasn't enough. I'm not quite sure where he was but both Duncan and I missed him. We walked right down the middle of the yard, me whistling that damn "Sleigh Ride" song again (read: still), Duncan pulling on his leash, crossing back and forth in front of me, checking out the brown little calling cards of all the dogs in the neighborhood. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked down to see this damn little show-off hopping along right beside me, no more than three feet away, moving only slightly faster than me until he was just about dead even with Duncan, who, as usual, didn't notice him until I said, rather stupidly, "Hey... !" Only then did he look up and over his shoulder at me and right into the prancing little face of the world's cockiest hare, who immediately pulled his SPRONG KA-ZING routine and took off in frenetic little hops toward the safety of the shrubs. Duncan, suddenly oblivious to the leash and collar he wears whenever we're out, rushed after him, pulled on the leash until his feet were yanked out from under him, went down in a gagging, choking heap, jumped back up and dragged me right along with him.
We never caught him but I'm telling you, one of these days I'll open a can of Fudd on his butt, let go of Duncan and see just how far he gets. No fear, though; Duncan doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He'd probably just lick him to death.
Tonight, though, the little beast ratcheted it up a notch, as if the challenge of waiting until the lumbering oaf was almost upon him wasn't enough. I'm not quite sure where he was but both Duncan and I missed him. We walked right down the middle of the yard, me whistling that damn "Sleigh Ride" song again (read: still), Duncan pulling on his leash, crossing back and forth in front of me, checking out the brown little calling cards of all the dogs in the neighborhood. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked down to see this damn little show-off hopping along right beside me, no more than three feet away, moving only slightly faster than me until he was just about dead even with Duncan, who, as usual, didn't notice him until I said, rather stupidly, "Hey... !" Only then did he look up and over his shoulder at me and right into the prancing little face of the world's cockiest hare, who immediately pulled his SPRONG KA-ZING routine and took off in frenetic little hops toward the safety of the shrubs. Duncan, suddenly oblivious to the leash and collar he wears whenever we're out, rushed after him, pulled on the leash until his feet were yanked out from under him, went down in a gagging, choking heap, jumped back up and dragged me right along with him.
We never caught him but I'm telling you, one of these days I'll open a can of Fudd on his butt, let go of Duncan and see just how far he gets. No fear, though; Duncan doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He'd probably just lick him to death.
1 comment:
I am absolutely confident that Dunc simply wants to add the silly furry thing to his collection of B toys (Bunny!)...if it would only slow down long enough to be loved.
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