“HARVEY”
Harvey came to live with us a few years ago, claiming his spot in the jungle of our back yard, with long ears peeking over a small azalea bush which refused to bloom, and giving Charlie something else to worry about in the garden.
Harvey had an insouciant air about him which belied his somewhat physically challenged body. After all, a rabbit with only one leg faces certain defeat in a hopping contest.
We saw Harvey standing at the side of the rode one morning, alone and obviously forgotten by those who had chosen to discard him. As we tucked him into the backseat of our car, we couldn’t help noticing that along with his missing leg, Harvey had lost both arms. Believing strongly that everyone deserves a second chance, we christened him “Harvey” in remembrance of the famous six foot rabbit of movie fame, and propped him up under a small fig tree.
Though I have been a fig fancier since early childhood, Dr. A has never developed the same urgency for them. We planted a black fig tree many years ago which has become a wonderful shade tree, but through unfortunate trimming does not produce figs at the correct picking level. We planted another fig several years ago with lovely soft green fruit. However, it became a rampant grower, sending limbs hither and yon, and sending Dr. A into a tither.
Gardens are forever evolving, and one morning last week Harvey took a catastrophic spill, and both of his lovely ears broke off. Now you might say Harvey had served his purpose in life and deserved a quiet end, but I know there is more to Harvey’s life than we have seen. Dr. A has performed a bit of glue surgery and with a little more help, Harvey will again grace our garden.
However, Harvey will no longer sit in the shade of the small fig tree as it amazingly disappeared a few days ago after Dr. A stepped out with his pruning shears.
Pachofa-Unfinished 
How endearing a rabbit still standing upright with just one ear. My dad was the glue doctor in our house. With six kids (not rabbits) running around inside during Dutch incessant rainy weather, lots of crockery became victims to boisterousness. Dad had Tarzan’s Grip in a tube handy.
I can still smell the strong acetone vapours and am still amazed we did not become rabid sniffing glue addicts.
Very often, and only after years of doing the washing up, it happened that a plate or cup would suddenly give up the ghost and fall apart, the glue finally dissolving, only for dad to re-glue the item all over again.
A lovely story, Kayti. Say hello to Harvey and Charley.
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Thanks Gerard. I can bring the strong smell of glue to mind just reading your description. It’s good that it didn’t set up additions among the young Dutch children. With tile floors throughout, friends were dubious about pottery in our house, but luckily there haven’t been many accidents. As a potter, I frequently had to replace things for other reasons though.
BTW, Harvey’ two ears were rescued, and now we wait to see how the glue holds.
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I laughed at Dr. Advice and his shears. I dispatched my weeping fig today after discovering the poor thing infested with white fly — and badly so. I actually dragged it home from the dumpster many years ago, and it’s been iffy from the beginning. It’s always had to stand in the corner, because it refused to grow on one side. Anyway. When i found out how much I’d have to spend to get it free of the white flies, I said, “Phooey.” I hauled it back to the dumpster, and promptly moved one of my too-big-for-its-britches Hawaiian schefflera over to fill up the corner.
As for the rabbit: of course you glued him back together. He’s really quite a handsome lad, and deserves a nice, new garden spot. Now, if he were a chocolate rabbit, I’d bite his ears off with abandon, but that’s quite a different matter!
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Hither, tither and gone!
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A wonderful tale, Kayti, and certainly you had to save the rabbit after his years of faithfully inhabiting the garden (although it is tough to run a way on one leg). As for figs, I’m with Dr. A. The only good fig is one that shows up in a fig newton. I’d be out there with my shears as well. (They can make great shade trees however.) –Curt
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My fig initiation began early when a fig tree showed up at 2 different houses we lived in as a child. Great climbing trees as well. The best figs I ever found were in a little neighborhood produce market in Paris. I brought a basket back to the hotel to share with my daughters, and they both turned their noses up so I ate them all.
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Your daughters! I’m laughing. Obviously they had some of Dr. A’s genes.
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What a wonderful blog title, I couldn’t wait to read it, and I wasn’t disappointed. I love Harvey and would also have given him a good home. But where is he now?
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It has been a good day. The small fig tree has been replaced with a nice sized Vesuvius flowering plum, and Harvey is deciding just where he would like to settle.
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I wondered how you were going to connect a paraplegic rabbit and a fig tree, but you did isoand kept me entertained throughout. I actually grew quite fond of Harvey (but not the figs) and was happy when he was repaired. This was a fun read, Kayti.
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I’m not given to cutesy things in the garden , but since Harvey is so enormous one can hardly call him cute. On the other hand, I do like an occasional “strange” creature peering from deep in the shrubbery. Glad you liked Harvey Janet.
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