Thanksgiving Rabbit
Dear guests, dear you,
There was this rabbit I locked eyes with as I crossed the street from the parking garage walking into work one morning. He had a confidence about him, a casualness, he watched me from one eye as I crept carefully now, closer. Closer, still. He stopped chewing. I stopped chewing. Hi. Hi. Who are you? Who are you?
And then I noticed the carrot. And the Bibb lettuce.
Chelino, our longtime kitchen manager, smiled into the hot milk he was frothing as I announced upon entering the kitchen, elated, “There is a bunny out back!—hey Cheli.”
“I know, I’ve been feeding him for a month.”
“A month?!”
I had just returned from a long vacation—11 days-- and had I known before I left there was a rabbit living in the hedge, I would have begun feeding him too. Because that is what we do here. And also, everyone knows the best thing to do when you find a pet you want to keep, that isn’t yours, that you want to be yours…is to feed it.
Oh, be still my heart! A pet! A furry one! A friend to greet me each morning as I walked into work—that Chelino would feed.
“We have to name it!” I gushed to Lauri later that day. Lauri Mazzini, Donna and Tony Vallone’s daughter, is the voice of reason, the safety net under us all here at Tony’s. Now, hers was the face of skepticism, and one I recognized from whenever I talk about all the things we could be doing at the restaurant with sparklers.
“We can incorporate the staff and take a vote, it will be fun…” I went on, jubilant, spinning at the possibilities as the whirl of tickets from the printer marked the beginning of lunch service.
Our new restaurant bunny. My new restaurant bunny. And in that moment, I knew his name. Rabbit De Niro. Why waste time being democratic about it?
“Health Department.” Was all Lauri said as she walked away and I couldn’t wait to see him again tomorrow.
Everything was going great until Friday night on my way out, our security guard casually mentioned the rabbit in his truck. The one he had just “saved.” The one that was running into traffic— the one with a death wish.
“That’s my bunny!!”
“She kept trying to run into traffic. I’m taking her home, my son has a rabbit.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, “First of all, it’s a boy bunny.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do—his name is Rabbit De Niro. He lives here.”
“Lives where?
“Here.”
“With you?”
“Well, no.”
“Well, where?”
“In the hedge behind the restaurant.”
“It’s not safe out here for a rabbit,” he repeated, “she almost got run over.” I didn’t like how he was turning my bunny’s cry for help into leverage.
“I can give her a good home, she can be with my son’s rabbit. She’s going to die out here.”
“It’s a boy and he’s not going to die--he’s made it a month already.”
“Something is going to eat her—like an Escalade.”
“But he belongs with me,” I told him. I didn’t like this feeling. I was losing.
“How about we just try it out and if he doesn’t like it, I’ll bring him back.” The security guard reasoned.
“So, temporary…” I said slowly.
Was I being selfish? Don’t take my bunny. What if he doesn’t like living in a cage?! He hates cages. Who would trade freedom for a cage? What if he wants to say hello to me every morning--like that one time a few days ago when we locked eyes and mutually stopped chewing.
The security guard walked me to his car, popped the trunk and I squinted until his flashlight provided proof of life—there he was-- Rabbit De Niro, in a milk crate, shaking, no carrots in sight. My heart broke. The security guard wasn’t giving in.
It’s just for a week or so, I resigned. Temporary. I guess I could do temporary. The more I thought about it, the weather was changing and there were a lot of cars around here. Could I give Rabbit the life he wanted, the stability he needed? No. I knew that answer. I knew I couldn’t—even with Chelino feeding it.
Weeks have passed now and with all that’s going on at the restaurant Rabbit De Niro has become a blip in my memory. I don’t even remember if he was right or left handed. Or what color eyes he has. But I’m grateful. Grateful he didn’t die under a tire. Grateful for the time we shared. Even if it had been temporary.
Love,
Kate
Rabbit De Niro has since been renamed “Roo” because to his new owners he resembles a kangaroo not an actor best known for playing handsome mobsters. He has free reign over their backyard which appears to be moderately lush. And despite his fur coat, he still shivers in the cold, so much they drape a blanket over his cage and I’m told that helps.