An English In Kentucky


















June 3rd 2010    Tim Candler

    Now that we are alone again, the Grey Cat and I managed nineteen hours of reasonableness.   Then last night I heard commotion in the downstairs.  It sounded like Kangaroo.

    Perhaps it was the sight of me in the soft pink nightie which gives me comfort to sleep in.  Perhaps it was the pleasure I get from urinating in Bad Rabbit scrapes which dominate the near ground beyond the garden fences.  And perhaps the Bad rabbit had found his own way into the house via the Grey Cat's invisible cat-flap.   Because it seemed to me that far from the Grey Cat chasing the Bad Rabbit around the living room floor, the Bad Rabbit was chasing the Grey Cat around the living room floor.  This scenario was made worse when I stepped barefoot on traditional Little Rabbit remains of back legs, tail and colon.

       The obvious thing for me to have done was return to the safety of my room, reacquire sleep and deal with the issue in the morning.  But I think of the grey cat as fearless defender and the sight of him vanquished made me nervous.  A rabid bunny in the living room leaping for my neck, with consequent incessant visits to medical professionals filled me with a sense of emergency.   In those images that are guessed to pass through mind just prior to final release I pictured my answer to the question.  "Yes," I replied, "I was bitten by a very large rabbit."   And there was laughter from a cigar smoking Host.

     Armed with the broom that lives on the back porch I was eventually able to re-establish some order by persuading the Bad Rabbit to leave the building, which he did I think with great dignity.    Nor did the Grey cat follow him out into the night. 

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