I miss my two-legged sister and brother. We had so much fun when I was a pup. Their arms were virtual windmills as they threw my ball across the backyard for me to retrieve. I particularly liked holidays when they would sneak me morsels of traditional food like turkey & green beans; corned beef & carrots; ham & hard-boiled eggs. Can you guess which holiday matches which food?
Guess what holiday is coming up? It’s when the Easter bunny is supposed to hide eggs in the yard. What’s up with a giant bunny delivering eggs? I pretty much know where all the bunnies hide, and I’ve never seen a large rabbit hopping around the neighborhood laying eggs. Wait, what? Rabbits don’t lay eggs. I think my humans’ jellybeans have been laced with something stronger than sugar.
My bro and sis are taller than my dad now, so they don’t live with us anymore, but they still come over to celebrate Easter with the family. And that’s when the Big Easter Egg Hunt begins. They carry around their pink and blue vintage baskets to search for multi-colored plastic eggs filled with candy and dollar bills. Real eggs just aren’t practical when the temperature is pushing 95 degrees. If they were real eggs, I could end the entire hunt in 90 seconds flat. Two minutes if there is wind.
Competition between brother and sister is fierce, so I allow them their shoving and whining, and I position myself under the patio table. I watch from my safe harbor as my sister carefully checks under every bush, and my brother inspects the same pot four times. I supervise. I offer silent guidance. I forgive their inferior scent capabilities.
My family gathers after they count their eggs (and money), declare the winner of the most eggs found, and sample chocolate. There are photographs (I love to photo bomb). There is ham (I monitor closely). There are deviled eggs (so that’s where all the hard-boiled ones went). There is laughter (that’s when I grab my favorite toy because everyone is in a playful mood). Easter is a grand human ritual designed to create joy, competition, and family tradition. I love it. But next year I must remain alert for that giant rabbit carrying a basket and trespassing in my yard.
Strange, but I suspect this giant rabbit looks suspiciously like my dad.
Happy Easter! Happy Passover!
Love, Larry