My hare -- or a replacement -- is alive and dancing in the Park. I saw him dart from a denser, safer spruce than Badger can boast of, bounding along the surface of the snow, ending his dance on two springy hindquarters. Lovechild of lady meerkat and a boomer.
He was looking right at me, damn his eyes! It is hard to be a secret black puma in the snow. (The sun was going down. At 3:15 pm or so. But the long shadows are blue, not black.)
And damn those springy stringy quivering thighs! I'll have to marinate them for days.
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