Whatever That Word Is

About a week and a half ago my solitude was disturbed by some hobo with a bike knocking on my front door. After rousing my dog, Minardi, to a fevered pitch and forcing me to slip on a shirt and shoes to answer the door, he let me know that he saw my rabbit running across the street.

!@(rabbit.jpg)

That I owned a rabbit was news to me, as was the fact that he or she had escaped. I thanked my informer and wandered back in the house to avoid doing housework and pretty much put the matter out of my mind. It would be nice if Mother Nature chose to begin reclaiming this part of the world, but I question her choice of albino rabbits as the first wave. I, personally, would have preferred wild boar.

My avoidance of the rabbit issue, however, only lasted some six hours. Around three in the afternoon I heard some hooting and hollering and went outside to investigate. My next-door neighbors were having their dog washed by one of those mobile dog-washing services, and one of the people involved with that enterprise was chasing something with the aid of our letter carrier. If the United States Postal Service was involved, as they were, I figured this to be national effort and joined them.

The dog-washing girl and the postal carrier were chasing the rabbit, but with limited success. It turns out that rabbits, even ones frightened out of their wits, can do a fairly effective job of being uncaught when they choose. This particular rabbit was very good at hiding under cars as well as scooting like the dickens, and we chased it across the street several times and under no fewer than six cars.

The rabbit, naturally, had some grease spots on it, but that in no way explained our inability to capture it. After chasing it for a good fifteen minutes, another neighbor came out and let us know that the rabbit was a pet of the little girl who lives directly across the street from me. This, while informative, did nothing to further our efforts to catch the rabbit, but the neighbor joined the pursuit, swelling our group to four.

Eventually we gave up and the rabbit just sat in the yard, waiting for its owner to return. I tried out the picture feature of my phone, with the above result. I suppose it's unnecessary to mention I take fewer pictures with my phone than I do answering calls.

A few hours later I saw half the household across the street chasing down the rabbit, and I guess they caught it. It could be that they know its name and can call it, or it could be that they're more practiced at this or the rabbit is more used to them. While the dog-washer girl and our letter carrier demonstrated massive efforts, we were unsuccesful where the family soon cornered and claimed the prize.

Since then, some ten days ago, I've twice seen that family chasing the rabbit around. That the little bunny has an unquenchable thirst for freedom is no doubt a good thing, but what disturbs me is that I can't remember that word used to describe something one starts seeing everywhere once one learns of it.

In this case, I didn't know my neighbors had a rabbit and had never seen them trying to catch it. Since inviting myself into the pursuit, I can no longer even look out my window without seeing a group of waving, shouting people chasing this white ball of fluff. I'm sure it was happening all the time before, but I never noticed.

Still, there are no signs of wild boars.