Xiao Tai Bei Tu Zi
I walked out of my apartment door this evening to take Frankie on his last walk of the day. In the middle of the common driveway between my building and the identical one next door sat a little bunny rabbit. I stopped. Frankie bristled and grew still. We watched the bunny for a few minutes. I wished I had my camera, but I knew that if we turned around to get it, he would be gone when we came back. So we just stared. How odd, I thought. Little bunny, how did you get to my urban front door?
Finally, Frankie and I moved towards the “yard,” turning left around the corner. Simultaneously, the bunny twitched and ran; we watched him go. Then from a dark corner in the left, a little lady shrieked and tore after the bunny. She stared at us like we were monsters, aliens. Two big white beings who materialized out of the darkness.
It dawned on me: This was her bunny, her pet. She had come down in the night to let him roam free. Free to run in the street if startled, free to be hit by a car or lost. And she looked at us like we were the weirdos – we who were safely joined by halter and leash.