THIS MORNING my pet rabbit was sitting on her favorite bunny-bottom-shaped bald spot in the back yard, looking at the fence and thinking rabbit thoughts. When I called her for her morning peanut, she didn't turn around. I called her softly, "Dolly, peanut. C'mer, Miss Dolly. It's your morning peanut," and rattled the peanut bag, but that didn't work, either. She was too sad. So I crept over to her and gently held a peanut under her nose, and she ate it from my hand, delicate pink rabbit tongue thanking my fingers. She didn't want another one, but after a moment she leaped into the air and frisked about a bit, then dashed into her hole. I'm pretty sure that it cheered her up. She's been despondent, on and off, ever since her sister disappeared. Later in the morning I saw her sharing birdseed with a flock of finches, so whatever was bothering her may have been assuaged by a little loving attention. When you're sad, don't you wish that a big hand would come out of the sky and give you a peanut?

May 4, 1994

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Peanut Joy

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