Shaker Heights is an inner ring suburb, but it still a fairly bucolic place, and it doesn't take a great naturalist or sleuth to look outside and see rabbits. It is not uncommon to find rabbits nibbling at your plants with impunity, because what you won't find in Shaker Heights, no matter how early you rise, is rabbit hunters. Rabbits may not watch much television, but they seem fully aware that should an irate gardener do a "Mr. Mcgregor" and trap or shoot a particularly rapacious rabbit, the neighbors and community associations and the lawyers who practically line the streets around here would be on that gardener with writs and desists and so on faster than the Warner Brothers directors and animators would be on Elmer Fudd if he should ever actually, even accidentally, hit the beloved Bugs Bunny.
And without the steady depletion of the rabbit population by irate gardeners, there is an even more steady rise in the population of said rabbits due to rabbits doing what rabbits do, which is to say the hedges around here must be like the Playboy Mansion the night after the Viagra delivery comes in the mail, where Holly, Bridget and Kendra play a clever game called Hugh's Clues in which they try to remind the increasingly senile Mr. Hefner why exactly he took the little blue pill, all the while keeping him from lighting the cigar poking out from his smoking jacket and trying to stay within the time limit (caution: if a painful erection persists for more than four hours, please contact a physician).
Where was I going with this post again?
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