One look at the nuggets and my mother decided that Harvey had to go. It was a “him or me” argument. My mother won. (My father would never enjoy life with all those nuggets around him.)
Now the dinner time conversation rotated around “What will become of Harvey?” The initial answer was that Harvey was going to an “Old Folks Home.” I was quick to point out that Harvey was a rabbit and not a “folk.” After scrambling around, my parents said they stood corrected that Harvey was going to an “Old Rabbits Home” to spend his days in sweet clover. Why didn’t I believe them?
I fretted. I was really worried about Harvey. My friends in school were raising their hand pistols and going “Blam!” again.
Then, one fateful day, I came home from school and Harvey was gone. The hutch was driftwood and the rabbit food was all sealed up on the top shelf. Harvey was gone. I heard the doors slam in my heart. At the supper table that night, I asked where Harvey had gone. Not keeping to a simple answer, I was told that Harvey had “gone to a farm” in upstate New York to a nice “Republican” family. This only resulted with a new spate of questions. In my heart I had only one feeling. Harvey had bought the farm. (Anyhow, Harvey was a Democrat.)
Months went by, and one day I was helping my father make deliveries when we stopped at an animal farm in lower Jersey City. (I was told that rats from the Jersey swamps were bigger than dogs.)
There was a sign out front: “Rabbit meat 49 cents a pound.” In an instant I knew where Harvey had gone. As time goes by for Harvey, it was: “The End.”
Henry Geerken is a three-time NYSUT award-winner writing humorous articles addressing retiree and senior citizen concerns. Geerken also writes for Sail-World, World Cruising Newsletter, regarding his many humorous sailing episodes through the years. He can be reached by email at email@example.com. ‘Senior Scene’ columns can be found at www.thedailystar.com/seniorscene.