Saturday, March 17, 2007
I am George. Hear me roar.
Late-bloomer George, the perpetually nervous and shy guy who would rather run than fight, who spent his life smack at the bottom of the pecking order, has finally realized the benefits of sharing a house with rabbits.
He can finally be the bully.
He's shared a house with rabbits for over three years, so I don't know what Road to Damascus event made him suddenly realize the prey/predator dynamics at play, but my mouse has become a monster, and delights in chasing the rabbits around the house. It's not an "I'm Really Trying to Catch and Eat You" kind of chase, more an "It's such a BUZZ to make this thing run! Look! Look! Something FEARS ME!"
They don't really fear him, of course; when he's not playing at being a tiger they ignore him and stroll right by. I suspect part of the thrill for George is the realization that the rabbits don't do anything but run away. They don't fight him, they don't corner him, they run, which makes them more fun to chase. For the first time in his life, George is being taken seriously, and it's clear that he likes it. I don't really worry, because I know that the rabbits could hand him his butt in a fair fight. I suspect they know it, too.