There’s a foreign teacher who used to work here that had a bunny. He moved to another city in China, and try as he might, he found no viable way to bring the bunny with him. He really loved the bunny but aside from spending hundreds of dollars renting a car and driver, he couldn’t bring him with him.
So, he asked a student to take care of it. She lives in Lin’an, and the bunny had stayed at her house successfully in the past during holidays. She said her parents were happy to take care of it, and off it went.
In class the other day, the students were doing some work, and I was walking around and as I passed her, I decided to ask her about the bunny. I hadn’t asked in months.
“So hows Iain’s bunny?” I asked.
“Good,” she said. “He eats lots of vegetables.”
“Good to hear,” I said.
But here’s the thing. This student is one of my “babies.” One of the students I’ve taught almost every semester for the past 4 years. One of the students in the class I know very, very well. And something seemed, well, just not quite right. So I looked at her a little skeptically.
“Really?” I said.
She stammered a bit and paused, and didn’t look me in the eyes. “Yes, really.”
“Really?” I said this time stretching it out.
“Okay, it died!” she burst out. “A dog bit it. I’m so sorry!”
She looked really sad, and upset, and obviously felt really bad. But I couldn’t help but laugh. Not because it had died, but because of the way I found out.
Poor bunny. You had a good life.
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