Open buffet for bunnies

It is a glorious day for freedom. This morning at 4.34 I unshackled myself from that pink Bastille and ran into the wilderness. It must have been the drowsiness of sleep that had temporarily unchained the iron manacles of Carrot Madness. This, by the way, is a well-documented disease among rabbits. It manifests itself by a seeming inability to move away from the locus at which fresh carrots are supplied on a regular basis. Another symptom is that the rabbit concerned is very often not aware of his or her affliction until he or she no longer reside in the locus at which said vegetables abound. As I said, I woke up before dusk, as I am wont to do – for those that care to know a bit more about rabbits, the scientific term for this is “crepuscular.” Suddenly I wondered what I was doing underneath a bed in an appallingly pink room. The door was slightly ajar and I hesitated not, hopped away, downstairs, through the living room and into the kitchen. After helping myself to some Cocao Krispies I jumped off the kitchen counter (don’t ask how I got up there) and made for the little trap door when I suddenly froze. It wasn’t a second after I realized what the trap door was for that a cat emerged from the darkness. Its eyes shone a radioactive green. Its fur, to a large extent invisible, but as far as I could see, was black like mine. “Did you read the sign saying open buffet for bunnies at the door?” said the cat. “Well, no,” I said, because I hadn’t. “Oh,” said the cat, licking its paw matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry,”I tried, “maybe… um, is the buffet not open yet, then?” I believe one of my hind legs beat the floor in nervous incertitude as to what this feline wanted from me. “No, no, no,… You’re messing up my pun here. You’re supposed to say; ‘no’.” “Okay; no.” “Good. Thank you. What was I gonna say? Oh, right, yes. That’s because there is no… Oh, forget about it. The moment’s gone.” “No, please, go on,” I said, getting increasingly confused. “No, it’s ok. It’s not important. Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?” “I’m Ben,” I said. “Don’t I recognize you from somewhere?” “I couldn’t say, it’s very dark in here…” “Oh, is that how it works..” “How what works?” “Never mind, my name’s Cassandra.” “Nice to meet you Cassandra,” I said.

I shall not relate the whole conversation here but Cassandra turned out to be a fairly gentle creature, if somewhat confused at times. She’d been living with the Knudsens for over a year now (in fact she couldn’t remember having lived anywhere else). She had a fairly good relationship with the little girl although she didn’t much enjoyed being driven about in the pink Rolls. The man in dark chinos and heels was a different matter. He occasionally forgot to feed her and Cassandra had never been able to bring herself to trust him fully. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I don’t know exactly.” “Mind if I come along?” “Not really.” And off we went, through the trapdoor and into the night. “So, what was the thing with the buffet?” I asked. “There is no buffet.” “Oh, I see,” I said. Indeed, she gets confused at times.