I have some very good news. At long last, Ferb the hook-arm-rabbit, has been reunited with his partner, hook-arm-rabbit #2.
As you may recall, these two prosthetic-wearing bunnies were unearthed about a year ago in the process of clearing out my grandparents' house, where they'd spent my childhood as ready objects of play for fifteen grandchildren. Although, if my memory serves me correctly, we never actually played with them because, to be honest, they were creepy. I'm sorry, Grandma, but they were. In fact, they still are. But how on earth my grandmother discovered
|Ferb (left) and his lady (right)|
Ferb came to live with me last summer, with what I imagined to be his twin brother remaining back east at my parents' place. But while rummaging through their closets recently, I discovered Ferb #2, who, aside from a disturbingly similar handicap, is not only not an exact twin, but seems, most obviously to me, to be a female rabbit.
Well, it just seemed cruel to keep them apart, so female Ferb was tucked away in my already overly stuffed luggage and secreted west. After all, I thought, what's funnier than a hook-arm-stuffed-rabbit? Two hook-arm-stuffed-rabbits, of course. That they both have a carrot velcroed to their hook arm is just the icing on the cake. And for you speakers of 'proper' English, that's cuddly toys. I'm thinking 'stuffed rabbit' may have gotten you off on the wrong track.
And so, after nearly a year of separation, the two handicapped bunnies are back together again. And for inanimate objects, they both seem much happier. It's nice to see love flourishing around here, since my own love life, or romantic antics, of late have failed to bloom, sprouting instead into flowerless stems that eventually get pruned. Hey, it was a good Spring analogy.
But in some strange, no doubt delusional way, those hook-arm rabbits are making me believe that sometimes, when it's right, things work out, and you find your handicapped soulmate.
When I'd taken Ferb on an outing to the farm last fall, I noticed his hook arm was sadly detaching at the seam; and when I left, Kristy insisted that I leave him in her care so that she could sow him back together. I was doubtful, but agreed.
Weeks went by without his return and one day before I left for the winter, fearing his forever disappearance into her bedroom, I insisted that Kristy bring him to my car. But when she returned, it was not Ferb she was carrying, but this...
...which, though wearing rabbit ears, is definitely not a rabbit.
"Here," she said happily, "he can keep you company till I fix Ferb."
Won over by the hilarious outcome of my pathetic pleading, I acquiesced––but only because the aptly named Care Bear was wearing bunny ears. And to my amazement, three months later, Ferb was returned, carefully stitched back together, as promised.
And not a minute too soon for the re-furbished Ferb to hook his arm under his gal's and hop off into the sunset; or sit in the narrow strip of grass between the street and my apartment. Whatever.
But I've had a firm talk with these two. The last thing we need around here is a bunch of little hook-arm rabbits.
Is it just me, or does he have a mischievous smile?
PS. Help! Mrs. Ferb needs a name...