Friday, 7 December 2012


Thirty years ago, I lived in a basement suite while a young couple rented the main floor of the house. They had a large dog with a golden fur coat while I have a black bunny. I named her Focus, after one of my favourite Dutch jazz-rock bands.

My neighbours and I kept to ourselves for the most part. But their dog had different ideas, as I discovered one afternoon. As I closed the bathroom door and strolled across the laundry room, I saw that silly animal with his nose pressed to the gap under my bedroom door. I couldn't help but giggle when I heard him snort deeply. The dog was so interested in the enticing scent of rabbit that he didn't notice me until I was beside him. He gave me that look dogs usually give when they want something. "No," I said as he started wagging his tail, "you can't go in there."

The memory of that fascinating animal scent must have lingered in that dog's mind. A few weeks later, I heard a noise in my kitchen around supper time. When I walked in, I saw the dog sniffing at Focus through the wires. She sat as still as she could, doubtless hoping that scarry animal would go away. The dog looked up at me and wagged his tail. He let out a funny yowl as if to say, "I found it." Fearing for my rabbit's safety, I opened the kitchen door and led him into the laundry room.

I made sure to close the door firmly whenever I went to the bathroom after that. The neighbours moved out but I never forgot that silly dog and his obvious glee in finding the mystery animal.

As you can tell by past posts and my When a Man Loves a Rabbit book, I've written much about my long-eared friends. In fact, my family had a pet rabbit when I was twelve. I wrote about her in Deliverance from Jericho. I've recently published How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. This memoir also mentions my bunnies. Use the search box at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm to learn more about this testimony of God's grace and providence.

1 comment:

  1. Dogs can be curious creatures. When I was a freshman in high school, we got our first Irish setter, and he was curious about the cats. I think he just wanted to play, but the cats would have none of it. they hissed, growled, and tried to scratch him if he got too close.


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