“Oh sometime in probably ‘84 or so, I took my daughter and two of her friends, all aged 8, for an afternoon organized soccer team practice. In the suburbs, practice fields are often on new parklands within areas being newly developed.
There had not been any houses built yet but the streets were there as were the recreation lands being used this autumn day for soccer practice fields. There was no parking lot so I pulled down a nearby street and parked. Off about 300 feet at the end of the street were the backyards of a whole street of houses with patios and decks and little barn buildings for storage. It was just after school was let out for the day and no kids were around yet. Everything was quiet except for the soccer practice.
The girls popped out of the car and ran to the nearby field greeting their teammates with cheers and loud calls. Off I went following the girls, turning my back to the quiet houses.
After a two-hour practice, just as the day was waning, we started back to the car. I saw that inside lights were coming on in the houses at the end of the street and adults were bustling around through kitchen and family room windows.
Then I heard all kinds of squeals and shrieks from the girls who had run ahead of me to the car. They were hopping up and down and jumping all around the side of the car, shrieking and laughing and squealing like crazy 8-year-olds.
I ran up all concerned. They were huddled around something down on the ground. Then they parted a bit to show me. It was a large metal cage. Inside were two very, very big floppy-eared bunnies and a box of food.
Somebody in one of those houses saw me drive up to the soccer game and get out of a car with three little girls. They had found a new home for those bunnies. Of course, I could not drive away and leave those bunnies in a cage on the ground on an empty street in the dark in suburbia.
I just know that person was watching from inside their house. I could feel their eyes and hear their sigh of success.”