At 11am this morning, a wild cottontail rabbit appeared at the front door of Dinnerware Artspace, 264 E. Congress.
I happen to be standing just inside the door at the time and watched in amazement as it approached the glass door. It sniffed the air, searching for the fragrance of familiarity. Not finding it, I watched it move up the sidewalk to PREEN, then onto the middle of Congress St.
My mouth gaping open, I felt my heart sink. Somehow this little one found itself in an alien world of wheeled beasts, 2 legged giants, hard, lifeless surfaces and anything but the sounds and smells of the desert.
As I watched, the rabbit became more terrified. Like in a movie, it found itself in the middle of Congress Street, removed from time and space.
A green, 5th Avenue traffic light released a herd of urgent giant beasts, guided by texting and cellular brains.
Our rabbit, waiting as rabbits do, until the last second, leaped, and dashed up Arizona Alley, toward Beowulf Theater, disappearing from view.
I wanted to cry.
For a few moments, I was that rabbit, in an alien world.
I’ve been there, and felt for that rabbit, and I think many Tucsonans at one time or other felt alienated or felt like misfits. That’s one reason many of us live here. The Sonoran Outback.
Our rabbit is on a new adventure now and it will never return to its home again.
At the time, an artist had just dropped off a large painting for the Luminous Landscape exhibit. She parked in front of Dinnerware. She said she just drove in from Sabino Canyon.
What a wild ride it must have been for our rabbit.
Down the rabbit hole.
I’ve spent a lot of time watching rabbits at close range. They’ll stand on their back legs, stretched upward to to eat mesquite leaves or beans. I’ve watched rabbits do bunny hops over other rabbits. This rabbit must have gotten up into this artist’s vehicle.
It appeared to help show me the way. Like Alice, I want to find out where this scene fits in with my life, what’s ahead, and I want to know how I’ll handle it.