When I can’t run, B and I walk. This park is one of her favorites, full of interesting smells. The fence runs along a majestic bank of blackberry tangle, parallel to a highway. The traffic drone is soothing, I imagine, to the rabbits who have made the tangle their home.
I have not seen a coyote here, and there is plenty of food, which means the rabbit population is somewhat ferocious. Sometimes they taunt B from the other side of the wire, but never over-loudly, since once she almost shimmied under the fence and THAT was definitely uncool both in my book and the book of said rabbits.
I imagine they hand down the story of that day from one generation to the next, and B has probably grown in the telling to the size of a house. The magical fence is all that can keep her at bay…but it’s a rite of passage for a young cocky Monsieur Lapin to bolt across the field and outrun her.
She hasn’t caught one yet…but she is hopeful.