Reflections on the Fourth Week of Summer – Bunny Quiet

   Friday morning started country quiet. The cats' water fountain burbled, a robin sang “cheery-up, cheerily,” and a baby bunny scampered across the deck past the sliding glass door.

    I tiptoed through the great room, grabbed my camera, and slowly opened the deck door.

   The bunny hid behind a planter. When it stuck its head around the corner, I focused the camera, but the bunny pulled back and crouched among the hop leaves.

    I inched forward. The hider peeked over the edge of the deck.

    Was it considering a fifteen foot drop to avoid me?

    I backed away, and the bunny ran onto the porch. As if skating on the cement, it slid past the ash bucket and around the wicker chairs.

    I clicked three photos then retreated though the side door to let the bunny's heart calm down.

    Our cat George moseyed to the front door, looked at me, then looked at the door.

    Alone on the porch, the bunny hopped toward the thatched welcome mat.

    George merowed.

    The bunny took two more hops toward the mat.

    George gave me the you-know-what-I-want-so-open-the-damn-door look.

    The bunny leaped closer.

    I knocked on the door.

    George blinked and twitched his ears.

    The bunny dashed to the deck.

    I let George out and followed him. No bunny in sight. George sprawled on the deck and yawned. I left him in the cool breeze.

    Since Spence attended a meeting with Senator Sherrod Brown's staff in DC that morning, I climbed the circular stairs to do yoga without the accompanying sound of his computer keys clicking. No pans clattered in the kitchen. No one said “gobble, gobble” when the yoga DVD led me through cobbler's pose. The cats, bunny, and kitchen stayed country quiet.