Sometimes We Are What We Seem, but Other Times We Are Somthing Else: a Preference for Burrows

by Ingrid Jedrzejewski

A Preference for Burrows

Over the years, I have been called a lamb, a scaredy-cat, a limpet and even a vixen (only once, mind you, and the gentleman was a bit tipsy). I’ve been told I have puppy-dog eyes, bird legs and the face of a horse. I am often busy as a beaver, I used to be as poor as a church-mouse, I have on rare occasions had a whale of a time, and I am currently as blind as a bat without my horn-rimmed spectacles.

If only people would recognize that I am a rabbit, it wouldn’t matter that I walk with an awkward hop, and no one would look at me askance when I wiggle my nose in that particular way to edge the aforementioned spectacles farther up my nose. No one would question my desire to have more children or my fear of large predators. It would not matter that I am a little furry in certain places, and that, sometimes, when faced with things I don’t understand, I sit as if paralyzed while my heart races and my ears twitch.


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