Published in the Charlotte Sun Herald – April 28, 1995
I never wanted any rabbits. I made that clear. It was the old man that got them. He saw the boy’s face light up at the fair, trying to win one – spent nearly ten dollars.
I never wanted any rabbits. If it had been up to me, I would have told the boy to earn some money mowing lawns or maybe washing cars. He could have built the cage first and gone out and bought himself a rabbit. The way I figured it, he would have lost interest after washing two or three cars. Then we wouldn’t have any rabbits.
I never wanted any rabbits. The old man did. He probably always wanted rabbits but was deprived as a child. The old man’s daddy never took him to the fair, much less bought him rabbits. One thing his daddy did do was to take him hunting and he taught him how to skin whatever he shot.
I never wanted any rabbits. Two days before Easter, he brought them home, three pedigrees. The plan was the boy would pick one to be his and the old man would take care of the other two. That’s when the girl decided she wanted one.
I never wanted any rabbits. The new plan was that they would work on the cage on the weekends when the old man was home. For now they were fine on the patio chasing each other and procreating. The old man hadn’t asked about the genders of the new family members.
Now we’ve got rabbits – lots of rabbits. I look out over my patio watching the sun rise with all its glory and splendor. Then I see them, little brown pellets covering the stone decking.
And I think to myself…Cacciatore!
 © Karen J Adams August 8, 2019
