I have the Rabbit’s Foot in the picture above, hanging from the visor in my car. This Rabbit’s Foot has been passed from car to car over the years. I’ve had the foot for approximately 30 years.
I’m not superstitious, just sentimental. Sitting at a red light I’ll see the foot out of the corner of my eye. I’ll reach up and give it a little pet. This always makes me smile. I’m smiling, because it takes me back to the time when I received that silly Rabbit’s Foot. A very good memory.
It’s summertime and I’m behind the wheel of my beat-up Toyota Van. I’m on a tiny country back road and in the van with me are 3 of my friends. Mike is in the passenger seat beside me and Jody and Ken are in the back seat.
The four of us carpooled back and forth to work, with me being the designated driver.
I wasn’t going very fast. These tiny roads are windy and narrow. There is no shoulder to speak of. They were too narrow and treacherous to drive fast. It was common here to see wildlife. I was in Eastern Oregon, where there was nothing but miles of wheat fields all around me. We had seen deer, pheasant, quail, skunks, badgers and various other critters on these little roads.
It’s a warm summer day. The sun is shining and everyone in the van is in good spirits. Suddenly, right in front of me out jumps this little rabbit.
There was no time to do anything. I ran over the poor little guy. I could see in my rear-view mirror that the little bunny was now Road Kill.
Everyone cried out in unison as I hit the poor little creature. But there was nothing to be done about it.
From that moment on, I became The Rabbit Killer. It was all in good fun of course. I was told that I had killed the Easter Bunny and there would be no Easter eggs for all the little boys & girls this year. Or maybe it had been Bugs Bunny, or Peter Cotton Tail. I was a Bunny Murderer.
This type of ribbing went on for several days. Finally, one day, I am walking toward the van. It’s quitting time; time to go home. Everyone is in the van except me.
As I climb into the van, I look around and everyone seems to be staring at me. I looked back at them and said something like “what? What’s going on?” They just grin. No one said anything. So I turn my attention forward and start the van.
Just then, I see it. The Rabbit’s Foot. It’s hanging from my visor. I couldn’t believe it. I reached up and touched it, petting this tiny, soft, furry foot. I started laughing as did everyone else.
No one person would admit to giving me the Rabbit’s foot. The story they told me about the foot was that later, on the day that I hit the poor little rabbit, they went back and scooped him up off the road and took him to a taxidermy shop. The taxidermist made a charm out of his little foot, which they gave to me.
Of course, one of them found the charm in some store. But I loved the story and the sentiment. I was still the Rabbit Killer for quite some time. But that was ok. I knew it was all in fun and done out of love.
My Rabbit’s Foot may not have been lucky for the rabbit, but it’s always made me smile.
Copyright © 2018 Penny Wilson