An abundance of bunnies (and other things that scare me)
Don't get me wrong-- I love bunnies. But last night, I passed a yard with 2 bunnies chewing dandelion greens on one side of the sidewalk and 3 more on the other side of me. I was outnumbered by bunnies in a frightening way. They all looked at me with their large eyes and kept chewing... I get nervous when animals who should fear people keep eating when people approach them.
I also get nervous about large quantities of little things: minnows swimming in the bait shop tub, a swarm of ants around a small mound of dirt, a tangle of snakes mating in a giant ball of love...
On their own, of course, I'm not afraid of these things. A bunny? Cute. A snake? Fascinating? An ant? Also cute (think "Anty" on Honey I Shrunk the Kids). What is not cute and fascinating? Lots of those things at once. Also, centipede/s. Singular and plural. Not cute. Terrifying and upsetting. I just can't deal with that many legs.
Upon waking yesterday morning, I turned the bathroom light on, and in the sink: a centipede. I let out a small shriek/scream and considered whether there was enough pressure in the faucet to wash the thing down without it running at me or disappearing (their ability to disappear is also disconcerting). And whilst considering, I noticed that my sink was littered with dirt and hair. Dirt and hair? No. Centipede legs. I had a mostly-legless centipede in my sink and a very proud kitty (who slept all day after his intense night of hunting). Needless to say, the centipede went down without a fight.
(Well. I had to pull the drain stopper out to get him down.)
On their own, of course, I'm not afraid of these things. A bunny? Cute. A snake? Fascinating? An ant? Also cute (think "Anty" on Honey I Shrunk the Kids). What is not cute and fascinating? Lots of those things at once. Also, centipede/s. Singular and plural. Not cute. Terrifying and upsetting. I just can't deal with that many legs.
Upon waking yesterday morning, I turned the bathroom light on, and in the sink: a centipede. I let out a small shriek/scream and considered whether there was enough pressure in the faucet to wash the thing down without it running at me or disappearing (their ability to disappear is also disconcerting). And whilst considering, I noticed that my sink was littered with dirt and hair. Dirt and hair? No. Centipede legs. I had a mostly-legless centipede in my sink and a very proud kitty (who slept all day after his intense night of hunting). Needless to say, the centipede went down without a fight.
(Well. I had to pull the drain stopper out to get him down.)
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