Just A Hare Old

I have several little concrete statues in my flower beds. Not those big tacky things that look like a bent over grandma, but small little critters tucked among the bushes, grasses and flowers. I like to place them where you almost have to stumble upon them to know they’re there. I’m all about surprises, ya’ know. Most of them are rabbits, and I’ve had most of them several years. You know how you look at something so long; you can’t see its flaws anymore? (I.e.…spouses) I think that’s what happened to my bunnies, because I realized this week as I surveyed the yard that most of them are really starting to show their age. In fact, they’re quite a motley little crew. I probably need to sort and toss a few concrete critters. Take a look.

This is Jack. He stands guard over my fourteen rose bushes. He’s a regal fellow, but he’s lost his features. The weather has worn him smooth. That’s okay. Who needs eyes anyway? He can stay.

This little fellow curled up in my weed covered peony bed has lost his features, too. And he has a crack on his bottom. Not that kind of crack, silly. A real crack. I’m afraid to pick him up. He might fall apart. I hope he goes peacefully in his sleep, and I hope I’m not there to see it.

This bashful guy looks good at first glance, but he has a big crack, too. Stop that! A crack in his foot. Not the kind…oh, you know what I mean. Poor guy. I’d hide my face too, if I had bird poop on my head.

This guy isn’t so bad. He just has a chipped ear, but hey, none of us is perfect.

This guy is missing a little more of his ear. Ummm. Psst. Just let on like it’s hardly noticeable. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Well, Peter is missing parts of BOTH ears. WHAT is up with the ears? Did the ear fairy steal them this winter? Well, if we keep the last bunny, we have to keep this one.

Okay, this one is a little harder to ignore. This is Honey and Bunny. At some point, Bunny lost his whole dadgum ear. That must have been some honeymoon. That’s kind of symbolic of marriage, isn’t it? He only half hears everything she says. Hee hee. Okay, we’ll keep him around for a good laugh every now and then.

And finally, we come to the biggest heartbreaker of all. My dear sweet angel that sat under the old plum tree lost his legs. A storm blew him over and snapped his legs like match sticks. Bet that hurt. After his tragic accident we moved him to a spot where he wouldn’t be noticed except by the meter reader. Poor guy. I just don’t have the heart to do away with him. We bought him after my nephew died and named him Chance after my nephew. Wait! If we build a goldfish pond we could sit him on the edge like he has his legs in the water, and no one would know he’s missing his feet. Yeah, that’s it. Okay, he definitely stays, too. Is that it? Are there anymore? No? Hmmm. Well, perhaps I was a little hasty before. Perhaps, these little buddies have plenty of life in them, despite their handicaps. Maybe I should treat them as dear senior citizens who just need a little more care. And maybe I need to get my fanny out there and weed more often so I can take better care of them.