Hunting Rabbits

My Dad doesn't know how old he is. Well, not really, he knows he's 85. What he doesn't know is that at 85 you don't do the same things that you did at 55. I ran over to Mom's to borrow a cookbook on Tuesday evening. When I got out of the van I noticed two rabbits going lickity-split across the lawn. My Dad had told me earlier that day that the little critters were eating his flowers whenever he turned his back. Like Peter Rabbit in Mr. Magregor's garden.

  So when I got into the house I told him that I saw them in his yard. He said, "Yeah I gotta shoot em." I had my doubts about that. But he picks up the phone and calls Darwin.

  "Hey, you gonna sent someone down with the rifle or do you want me to come and get it"?
I thought sure Darwin would nip that in the bud, but apparently not because about 10 minutes later here comes one of the boys with the 22. Oh boy, I thought, can he handle that thing or not? He looks awful frail to me. I breathed a quiet little prayer for his safety and left it at that.

  The next day Angie and I came back to give Mom her shower and Pop was out in the yard working with his flowers. I asked him if he got his rabbits and he said he got one of them. He told me today that he got two so far and there's one more to go. So much for worrying about my Dad. He probably did his share of worrying about us. Well maybe not too much. But Mom sure did.

 Dad said yesterday he forgot to lock the door and Mom went out by herself, so he followed her to see what she would do. She was looking down towards Darwin's house. But she came back in on her own. He told her if she wants to go to Darwins they could. It didn't take her long to get back out to the van. They went down to the shop and sat there for quite a while. I think she probably needs to get out more.