An Iowa Garden

After he'd finished his breakfast of romaine lettuce, muskmelon (his fave), and a carrot, we let Lucky go.
Lucky first appeared in a dark and dusty corner of our garage, the tiniest of bunnies. Our little tabby and white cat P.J., an inoffensive cat whose not normally a hunter, except for the occasional June bug, had brought the bunny in, probably having snatched it right out of its nest, then plopped the helpless creature down in our garage. The rabbit was frozen with fear, and we assumed it was probably injured from being carried in a cat's mouth. We put it in a warm box full of shredded tissue, figuring it would die during the night, but the next morning it was hopping about, so I put a piece of lettuce in the box, and to my delight the lettuce was gone when I checked back. Therefore it was off to town to lay in some produce and to buy a ridiculously large bag of wood shavings, which were used to cover the bottom of a plastic stock tank that we put our fancy goldfish in during the winter when they are brought in from their pond. This would be the new home for the bunny, who for obvious reasons was given the name 'Lucky', and he began to eat everything in sight, growing fat and strong.
Lucky was now safe, and warm, and well fed, but the outside world beckoned, and today we let Lucky go, taking him to the deep, leafy back ravine. He at first didn't want to leave his box, but then he was out, and in a few seconds was off into the woods and gone.
Considering Lucky never made a sound the whole time he was with us, it's odd that the house seems a little empty and quiet now. It's a scary and dangerous place out there for little bunnies, with hawks, owls, and coyotes. Where Lucky will go, how long he will survive, and whether he'll ever meet his mother... I will never know... but he's free.
He's just one tiny bunny in a very big world, but should you happen to be driving through our neighborhood, perhaps on your way to the store or to a movie, please brake for Lucky...