The children’s librarian was inconsolable. Her mind wandered; her story times made no sense; she forgot the words to “The Wheels on the Bus.” She also forgot to feed the rabbit, who died a week later. The cage had to be covered with cloth so the children wouldn’t peep in. The rabbit lay in state all morning, till someone from the DPW could come and haul it away.
“You know,” said the children’s librarian to the head of cataloguing that day, “she told me, ‘I’ve had a good life. If I died tomorrow, I’d have no regrets.’” The head of cataloguing stared, thinking, That rabbit said no such thing.
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