Schifflebein's Folly

CHAPTER 6: RUDY AND LUCY

Most household pets are killers. It's not something people like to dwell on, but just ask any worm as it disappears down a bird's gullet. Ask the lizard with its tail protruding from the fluffy kitty's jaws. Ask the snake whose spine is crushed between a canine's canines, or the bird whose eggs the snake ate for breakfast. Even the harmless toad in the third grade class's terrarium consumes live insects. Killers, all of them.

Not so with bunny rabbits. Oh, they have other faults, to be sure: low intelligence, negligent toilet habits, over-developed curiosity, non-stop gnawing. But bunnies are vegetarians. They don't kill other animals in order to eat.

Moreover, there is a decided difference between predator animals and prey animals. Bunnies, like deer, sheep, or cows, are strictly prey animals. They live to turn plants into meat, which is then destined for the stomach of a predator.

Prey animals lack the bold confidence of the predators. Prey animals tend to shrink back or hide, rather than bound forward playfully, eager to interact with something bigger and stronger than themselves. Puppies or kittens may tumble and wrestle about, chewing and clawing at one another for sport. Rabbits would never be so gauche. A quiet cuddle, with perhaps some gentle ear-licking, constitutes polite social interaction between bunnies.

Lloyd Schifflebein had spent years reading and studying about pets before choosing the right ones for his expected children. He chose rabbits because of the similarities between prey animals and defenseless children. Lloyd had read and re-read manuals on rabbit husbandry and child rearing until he could recite passages from memory.

As Amy and Ray settled into life at the Schifflebein house, Lloyd found his familiarity with rabbit lore to be highly applicable. When he tucked Amy into her bed, he carefully avoided hugging or other close physical contact. He noted, but did not react, when the tiny girl flinched to avoid his hands that drew her sheet to her shoulders. He stepped back, smiled at Amy, and blew her a goodnight kiss.

If you try to pick up a rabbit, or attempt to hug it and pet it, you will only scare it away.

Ray was less squeamish about touching, but of course he remained silent when Lloyd tucked him in bed, told him good night, and shared not a hug but a restrained handshake.

Baby rabbits learn to be afraid, keep their distance, avoid high places, and run from anything that grabs at them.

Lloyd crawled into his futon, settling down for the night.

If you want to love a rabbit, you don't grab. Instead, keep quiet, sit or lie on the floor and wait. When he's ready, the rabbit will come to you.

Lloyd rolled over and went to sleep.

A few days later, shortly after midnight, a cloud rolled across the moon. Lightning flashed outside the Schifflebein house, and thunder rattled the windows. Heavy rain began pounding at the roof, windows, walls, and doors.

As the windows shook and lightning strobed across the floor of Lloyd's room, Amy and Ray darted in through the open door and scurried under Lloyd's covers. Without opening his eyes, Lloyd smiled and scooted aside, making room for them. All three settled down to sleep.

The thunderstorm hovered over the house. The rain continued to fall. Three people slept soundly on Lloyd's futon. None of them noticed that there was no rain or storm over any other house in the neighborhood.

Some days after the magically localized inclement weather, the family gathered in the bunny room. Some rabbits hopped about on the floor while others either tunneled through the hay bale or lay atop it, placidly munching. On a throw rug, Lloyd sat brushing a fat, white bunny called Marshmallow. Amy and Ray squatted alongside, watching. As small clouds of white hairs drifted through the air, Lloyd was saying, "When bunnies get scared, they release their fur. They're made that way so, if a hungry animal bites at a bunny, it might get a mouthful of fur while the bunny runs away."