“Um, yeah. Yeah, sure. I, uh, think you’re pretty swell, too, Snick.”

“And what is it that you love about me?”

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. “Well, um, those pink boots of yours, those are cool.”

“And?”

I swear I’m trying, but I’m totally drawing a blank. In fairness, the water’s up to my belly and my teeth are chattering so loud I can’t hear myself think.

“And, uh . . . ,” I begin.

“Oh, c’mon, how hard is it?” yells the bunny, who’s perched on a pile of wet timothy hay. “She’s a looker and she’s smart and she’s way too good for the likes of you. Try that, Romeo.”

“You’re a looker and you’re smart and you’re way too good for the likes of me,” I repeat.

Snickers lets out a contented sigh.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Boss asks.

I groan. “Sis, you have no idea.”

an interesting life

An awful noise comes, like a tree trunk splitting in two. While we watch in disbelief, a piece of the roof, the size of a Great Dane, simply vanishes. Rain gushes through the hole in torrents.

“Boss,” I say, “it’s time. Jump on my back.”

“And that’s a good idea because . . . why, exactly?”

“Because maybe you’ll get your turn,” I say. “Your chance to have things go your way. I’ve had an interesting life. I want you to have one, too.”

“Bob, at best you’re buying me a couple extra minutes,” Boss says.

“Sis.”

“I’m like thirty seconds older than you. You’re not the boss of me.”

“Please?”

“Why? Just because you’re a guy? I could take you down in a second with three paws tied behind my back.”

“And if you get outa here and I don’t?” I continue, ignoring her. “There’s a place I want you to go. Sit on the front porch. Wait for the humans who live there.”

“Who are you kidding, Bob? We’re both about to die.”

“Three blocks up, four houses down on the left. Look for a big oak tree. Guy named Nutwit lives there.”

“Nutwit.” She’s suppressing a smile.

“Say it,” I command.

“Fine. Whatever. Three blocks up. Four houses down. Nutwit.”

We go back and forth like that, arguing, bantering, trying not to hear the terror of our cagemates, and I think maybe I’m starting to hallucinate a little. I’m starving and freezing and I feel kinda dizzy. All the smells and sounds are mingling together, and, crazy as it seems, I actually think I catch a whiff of Ivan.

Well, that’s kinda cool, I think. At least I’ll be remembering my best buddy when I die.

There are worse ways to go.

hey