The Escape of Indy and Felix

Bunnies, doing hard time. Look at that hutch. How could they have possibly escaped?

On Friday afternoon, I'm a bit dazed and hungry, decide I'll cook up something tasty for dinner, grab my coat and go lock the house door. When I go to lock the house door, I look through the French windows and see Felix hopping about.  I don't really think twice about it at first. Felix and Indy go outside every day to hop in the run. In the run. I double take. Felix was OUTside the run. Holy smokes, batman.

Felix looks at me. He's just beside his hutch looking at me, perhaps pleasantly.  I unlock the door, push out his cage, and hope he'll run into it as a place of safety. As I go to corner him off, Fly comes out in the yard. Most days, he just sniffs at Felix and Indy.  One day he ate their food, but that's about as far as it goes. Each day there are about a hundred rabbits on their lawn, grazing away. Fly doesn't blink at them ever. But today, when he sees Felix outside, he wants to play. I order him to sit and stay, and then turn my back. Before I know it Fly zooms up to Felix and performs the deepest play bow ever. Mentally I'm preparing to lose him, lose them both.  Fly would just have to play a little too hard, and whoops, it's Of Mice and Men, oh shucks, didn't mean to do that, all over. 

Felix, not paralyzed like I am, runs to the back of his cage to investigate. I grab him and shove him in.  He looks rather pitiful there.

I quickly look around to see if Indy is about. No sign of her. I wallow through the entire perimeter of their yard.  It is a huge yard, and the crannies and crevices she could be in are endless. I begin to cry and then cry harder because I'm cross with myself for crying

. Indy has always had a penchant for escaping. I almost wish she could have babies so if she runs away for ever at least I can see her black and fluffy offspring grazing on the lawn. But wait, how did they escape?

And then I see it.  A patch of uneven ground I put the hutch on forms a perfect gap to squeeze through. The height of the grass hid this when I moved it that morning.  That morning, what had I said to the bunnies? "I know you probably don't like me very much and want to run away, but I like you and you make me happy. I'm glad I own you." Geeeeeez. I need to quite my 9-5 and open my own shrink line I'm so prophetic.

No sign of Indy and I give her up for lost. Fran's family take turns in consoling me. I run to the store to take my mind off of things. I begin to cook and keep glancing at Felix's cage; he seems so forlorn and it'll just be him and me.  Why on earth do I love these stupid animals.  Crrrriickey I'm never having kids.

Then, Fran's mum comes down the stairs and beams that she has seen Indy, in the neighbor's garden, munching away on grass.  About five of us troop out, and to my delight, she's just grazing in a walled garden. She didn't run away into the nettle patch after all!

Next what ensues is practically a scene from Peter Rabbit in Mr. McGregor's garden. We get out a hoe and a rake, rusty English ones.  We chase Indy, that dern fast critter, until she runs under some piling between us and the wall. By shoving the rake handle down, we gently prod her out.  Fran's mom stands at the hole, ready for Indy to run.  And she bolts out! Bolts like Usain so fast there's no chance of catching her, and she's out of the walled garden.

We heard her back in and creep up like those injuns in the movies on a cowboy at a campfire, 'cept Indy can see us and those cowboys never knew what was coming.  Sizing up the weakest one of us, she runs, at me, nearly past me, until I pull out my ol' soccer-goalie skills and make a dive that would have easily bested Robert Green.  And I have her in my arms, her heart pounding like a choo-choo train. I want to cry and laugh and sing and whoop and holler and collapse with a bottle of gin-- all at once. Dern, stupid animals. Wriggling their way into humans hearts and then leaving without a fare-ye-well. They should be ashamed.