Issues, the Rabbit

Larry lives in the Broad Ripple area of Indianapolis. His face is chalky weathered for his age. Chalky. He smiles often, showing off the space between his two front teeth. Larry works at a restaurant and often claims leftover bread so he can feed the ducks by the canal.

Larry rides a Mary Poppins bike, thick and upright with a seat like a life raft. A rust speckled cage rolls along behind the bicycle, rattling on top of its homemade wagon.

On arriving home, Larry sticks his pet rabbit in the cage, climbs back on his bike and heads for the Monon trail where he lets the rabbit hop freely around the gazebo. Afterwards, Larry rides a few hundred feet to feed the ducks. Dark will camouflage him before he leaves.

I met Larry one day while running the Monon trail. Stopping to stretch at the gazebo, I asked to pet the rabbit. “Yea, go on. You can pet her. Actually, if you cover her eyes, I may be able to catch her and put her back in the cage. If she sees me comin’, she’ll run away.” I covered the rabbit’s eyes. Larry picked her up and held her.

“What’s her name?”

“My girl’s name is Issues. You see, my ex’s ex gave her his Issues, “ Larry gestured to the rabbit, “Then, when we broke up my ex didn’t wanted Issues so she left her Issues with me.”  He smiled. Then winced as Issues’ teeth pierced his finger.

I told him my parents have a dog named Trouble who digs up my mom’s flowers and scatters my dad’s plant labels all over the yard.

I told him how much I love Trouble’s dirty footprints on black dress pants.

Larry smiled. He understood.