Monday, 26 November 2001 | Dead animals

Dear driver-side door,

Please refrain from jamming, so that I am no longer forced to climb over the gear shift, getting the strap of my bag caught on the emergency brake while bumping my head and knee and filling the air with curses.

Thank you.

***

For the last few weeks, I've noticed two white bunnies hanging out along my street, predominately congregating in a certain corner of the Y parking lot. I'm not sure who they belong to, but they're certainly not wild. Their fur is bright and dangerous, their ears especially long, and their build, big. Perhaps their owner feels they need time outside of the cage, or perhaps they escaped when the owner opened the cage at mealtime. Although I've enjoyed watching their strange movements, I've been a little concerned that one would dart out in front of me as I drove by, or that Leeches would bring one home, dragging the poor creature up the back steps with her teeth.

But neither of those things has happened. No, instead, someone else hit one of the bunnies, smacking it with rubber and throwing it to the side, and someone else laid it—stretched out—over a stump just by that corner of the Y parking lot. And, the next day, instead of a bunny, Leeches delivered a dead sparrow to my back door.