In the summer of 1980, while preparing for our big move from the Mitchell’s house to the wooded land behind Grandpa Smith’s house, I (3) donned some groovy amber-tinted aviators and made a new friend. We’ll call him Boxy. Boxy Turtle.
Petting my new friend, Boxy.
Boxy couldn’t bear seeing my true form.
After my adrenaline fueled encounter with the Boxy, I attempted to pet what I feared would be “the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on.” Fortunately for us, however, this was not the Rabbit of Caerbannog.
Back at the Mitchell’s house, I played with Buddy in my red Radio Flyer wagon. Buddy was the neighbor’s cat (I’m told he wasn’t always this snugly). And so ends this wildlife adventure.