little bunny foo foo, pissing off the boggle

There’s just something about a bunny, apparently.

As so many times before, as this morning, as I’m trying, vainly, to meditate, with enough focus issues without this to contend with, too: Our goofus half-hound Maggie goes absolutely batshit crazy over the sight of any of the little furry hoppers that call our part of the neighborhood home. She pins her not-insubstantial self up against the front-room window, and barks and barks, endlessly just barks, and howls a bit, too, because she’s part hound, and can.

She has, over not all that much time, almost completely denuded the painted leading edge of that window ledge from standing angrily upon it, in staunch defense of our apparently bunny-vulnerable home, barking and barking, etc., and howling, and shuddering all the while in righteous canine fury. She persists in this behavior for as long as any rabbit large or small continues to sit, in glaring offense of all that’s right and good, anywhere upon our front lawn within view from the window, with Little Bunny Fuck You chomping cutely away out there on clover or whatever, in blatant disregard of the frantic, barely muffled Maggie just to the far side of the nearby glass.

How dare you, bunny! How dare you.

Oh, but let a squirrel wander up, and, well …

Well, nothing, that’s what. Not a goddamn thing, no twitch of interest, zilch. Those greedy tree-chattering bastards can scamper right up on our back deck and peer, with their little claws pressed in conniving Mr. Burns-ish form against the double-door window glass, at our old bunny-baying boggle (part beagle, part boxer; my daughter, Taylor made that up), who doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Maggie!” I sometimes admonish, pointlessly. “You’re a dog, and that’s a squirrel. A squirrel! Dogs chase squirrels. So react, for pity’s sake!”

To which she just glances back at me, when she can even be bothered to do so, and I’m sure inwardly is saying: “Dude, leave me alone, already. We’ve been over this how many times? I mean, it’s not like it’s a bunny or anything …”

My dog, I fear, is a species-ist. I couldn’t be any more ashamed.

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