Hopping in and out of the Shower

I was watering a section of new lawn at a back corner of our lot yesterday when My Bunny came dashing out of the long grass.

I hadn’t seen her there.

Some background. I gave this friendly little wild rabbit three showers with my garden hose in the very same area of our property on the hottest days of last summer.

So here we were again. She stopped by the tree and I slowly brought the mist over her, so as not to scare her off. She sat there absorbing a lot of water, eventually licking her lips and blinking her eyes.

Now here is a new wrinkle in these shower stories I presented here last year.

Seemingly all showered out, My Bunny dashed into some bushes by our wooden fence, a few feet away. I wasn’t surprised by that and just carried on watering the grass.

But I did a double take when the little critter left the bushes and returned to the very spot where I had just finished administering an over-the-top soaking. She stood there, facing me, looking right at me.

So, I did my duty and brought the mist over her again. For the next five or so minutes, she took in all the water I could toss her way.

Finally, she returned to the bushes.

But I had to water the grass back there too and I could see her little bum sticking out of the weeds, so I put the mist over her again.

No complaints.

I shouldn’t be surprised. This is a rabbit that comes and gets me when she is out of food and occasionally, will come hopping up to me when I call her.

But for my little friend to ask for “more water, please” is the strangest – and nicest – encounters I have ever had with a wild animal.

And I am grateful for the experience.

©2023 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.