When Opportunity Knocks...

It was one of those nights--the ones when you attempt to do so much in one grand swooping gesture of productivity and in the process end up doing hardly anything at all.

This time, I happened to be attempting to do a few loads of laundry, make dinner for myself, prepare two different soups from scratch for a fundraiser at work the next day, wash dishes, put away the groceries I'd just bought, and feed my hungry rabbit friends.  Being the talented multitasker that I am, I was doing a damn fine job.  So I thought.

Then all of a sudden, I heard the strangest sound. 

[Chup chup chup chup chup chup.] 

I turned off the kitchen sink faucet to listen more closely.  

[Rustle rustle....chup chup chup chup chup chup.]

"Moooommmmiiieeeee!!!," wailed Holly. (Yes, even animals scream like that on occasion.  Especially my Holly.)

I leaned outward toward the living area to see what was the matter. My eyes grew wide when they settled upon a usually well-behaved little black rabbit rummaging through my reusable Wegman's bag full of fresh produce, chomping giddily on the green ends of a carrot bunch.  Holly stared on in utter disgust.  (However, the demonic glowing eyes captured by my camera lens are mildly exaggerated.)

 

See, in my nearly flawless execution of multiple simultaneous tasks that evening, I managed to overlook one minute detail--latching the door to George's home after I gave him his dinner.  Whoops.

"GEORGE!!  What are you doing?!," I gasped. 

"Yippeeee!! I smelled carrots with greens on top!"

"Well, yes.  But what are you doing out here?" 

"The door was open!  And I smelled carrots!  So I jumped for it!  I LOOOVE fresh carrots!"

I shook my head and added another grocery trip to the to-do list before scooping him up to return him to his cage.  He giggled.   I couldn't help but giggle with him.

George knows he's not supposed to be out of his cage without being supervised (even though we've had many conversations about those evil, terrifyingly dangerous electrical wires, I still worry that one curious impulse will supersede years of bunny safety training).  But I couldn't fault him for this one.  Technically, it had been my fault for leaving his cage door open in the first place.  And besides, who can blame someone for going with gusto after one of his most exciting goals?

Although it was clear that George could not have cared less about providing any profound life lessons in his carrot bust (he was too busy relishing in his prize), I did take a few things away from it:

1. My self-perceived multitasking talent is obviously a myth.  You know what they say about "slow and steady."  (I do, too.  I just need to remind myself of that sometimes.)

2. There is a way out of every cage if you pay close enough attention.  Even oppressors have their dumb moments.

3. When opportunity knocks (or goofs and leaves the door wide open for you) with a gift that ignites your brightest inner spark, don't just answer the door--jump through it like there's no tomorrow.

That boy really does love him some veg.