Elaine a few years prior to this story. 

Sebastian and the Bunny

            My grandfather is a dim memory who died when I was five. His fuzzy picture holds a man sitting at his weathered, square table just outside the back door of the old, white house. A short, round, silent man with a pipe, Sebastian didn’t enjoy eating at a table full of noisy grandchildren so Grandma Anna served him meals under an awning at the back door. He sat with his back to the wall and surveyed his domain, a few acres of grape vines and gardens with a chicken coop, a shed and a barn.

            Sebastian taught me what real communication is. He didn’t mean to teach me anything but from him I learned that it is important for a person to check the territory around someone’s words before making a deal. It was all because of this bunny.

Grandmother Ann, the rabbit cook, standing
among her children while Grandfather
Sebastian, the rabbit eater, is seated.
Elaine's mother standing to Sebastian's
left.

            Some other family decided that taking care of a rabbit was too much trouble so they gave it away. The lucky rabbit came to live at our house, in a box in the kitchen, sharing carrots, lettuce and space with our family. My brothers and I were supposed to keep it clean and cared for but we didn’t do very well so my mother, raised in farm country, said that was where the rabbit belonged. She sold us on the idea that the bunny would go to Grandpa’s house in North Collins, NY.

            I pictured it living in the little shed next to the barn being fed and drinking fresh water and wiggling its nose in greeting when I went there. We brought the rabbit to the earthy smelling chicken house and fed it bits of grass through the fencing. Satisfied that it would be happy there, I went home with a smile.

Grandmother Anna 

            On our next visit I ran to the hutch. Empty. I asked Grandpa about it but his Italian and my English weren’t making the proper connection. Something was wrong. 

             I went for another answer and then another before collapsing in tears. The pet bunny had become rabbit stew. Grandpa’s enthusiastic thanks had nothing to do with the soft ears and cute face. The bunny had joined Grandpa at his weathered, little table behind the house, the reason for his full belly just before the silent pipe.