RABBIT FIERCE

The other day when I boarded the bus, a Chinese gentleman and his little daughter boarded also. I had noticed them among the multitude at the bus stop previously – they must live on the same block – but what especially caught my eye this time was the stuffed animal the child was carrying. She had a bunny. A bright pink bunny, which she held dangling by a leg.

Older women, such as teenagers and college age young ladies, often have backpacks, or handbags. And cellphones, ipods, compacts. This and that.
The little girl obviously understood the need for stylish and practical encumbrances, but limited herself to what was truly essential: a bunny rabbit.
She carried her accessory unselfconsciously; casual, yet businesslike.


She and her father sat down opposite an elderly white woman, who complemented her on her pretty dress. The little girl did not know what to make of this and drew closer to her dad, who explained to the elderly woman “she, shy”.

The woman then asked “how old is she?”. “Um, ah, four, yes.” The little girl squirmed and buried her face in her dad’s windbreaker.

The elderly woman turned again to the child “what’s your name, dearie?” The father again interceded: “her call Alice”. The little girl, still with her face in her dad’s windbreaker, silently nodded affirmation.

Now the elderly woman tried to engage the little girl with even more determination. “Oh what a pretty bunny!”
The little girl whispered “he’s a boy, boys AREN’T pretty”. Her English was better than her dad’s.
“Well then, he is very handsome!” Now the little girl looked at the woman in worried manner.
Probably the old lady, in the little girl’s eyes, was missing a few screws. Boys, as everyone knows, are sometimes handsome (very unlikely!), sometimes bunnies, but NOT both. Never both. This old person must have been expressing frustration that there weren’t enough handsome boys and projecting that lack onto the bunny. An imposition!

[Please understand that I don’t know for certain what the little girl was thinking. I cannot read minds, so it’s all just a guess. But it’s an educated guess. It was clear that the little girl found the old lady a disturbing element, which required careful watching. And somehow the bunny was central to the developing situation.]
The little girl pursed her lips.

“Do you love your bunny?”
The little girl frowned – what an odd thing to ask.

“Does he have a name?”
The little girl nodded.

“So, what’s he called?”In a determined and fierce tone the little girl screamed:

“MINE!!!!!!!!!”


And hid the bunny behind her back.

Consternation. Followed by silence.

Two stops later the old lady got off the bus.

The little girl pulled her bunny back out and whispered “well done, mister Floppy”.
For the first time she smiled.



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