Ears shoot up, back hunches, hair rises and a growl starts deep in his chest… there is a rabbit in Sparky territory! Whoosh, off to the door, barking, clawing, ready to leap into action. I reach down and clip his leash line that stays permanently tied to the back porch steps. Open the door and he leaps wildly into the air, skipping all four steps and landing with bounce in the grass, launching himself forward toward the offender who sits… chewing grass and looking nonplussed. The rabbit knows the length of that leash. He’s been through this game before. Sparky hits the end of his line with a cruel jolt that pulls him back on his hindquarters. Instantly he leaps to his feet and barks in a fit of fury. The rabbit looks on. Ha! He chews, he saunters and languidly chooses the best grass patches, just a few fit from the now twisting Tasmanian Devil.
After a while, the rabbit tires of the charade…Sparky never does. He hops slowly away leaving a bundle of frustration in his wake. Oh, how I know this feeling. To be so close and yet… Life is often like that. We can see the end goal and it looks so tantalizing. Every fiber of our being wants to get there, but the leash just…won’t…stretch. And the opportunity finally hops away.