There once was a wild rabbit. Life was hard for such a small, soft creature. So it learned to be clever rather than strong—quick rather than forceful. Most importantly, it learned that being on its own felt safer. It could go where it wanted and be what it wanted to be. The wild rabbit knew its life and its rules.

One day, after it outsmarted a farmer and stole a carrot from a trap, it spotted a bunny sitting on the windowsill of the farmer’s daughter. The wild rabbit called it the windowsill bunny because its ears were floppy and it looked soft.

“Oy, bunny! What are you doing there? You’re going to get too soft and slow to survive.”

“Why must I be hard and fast if I was invited here?” the bunny asked.

“Invited? That’s just temporary. When you’re kicked out, you’ll hop right out!” The wild rabbit laughed at the thought. The bunny did not.

“I like to hop,” the bunny said. “Do you like to run?”

“It’s the only way to live!” the wild rabbit smiled.

“Just because you see something as the only way doesn’t mean you like it.” The bunny’s soft tone didn’t match the punch it landed in the wild rabbit’s chest.

“You’ll learn one day, bunny,” the wild rabbit scoffed. “I gotta run.” And off it ran.

A few days later, the rabbit returned to the farmer’s house for another carrot. This time it was faster than the trap—and it even grabbed one more from the garden. Proud of itself, it strutted past the windowsill. Just as it hoped, the bunny was there.

“Oy, bunny! I see you’re still too soft—and a bit plump, if I do say so.” The rabbit teased.

The bunny flicked one ear. “I am well taken care of.”

“You’re being fattened!” The rabbit held up its two carrots. “At least if I get fat, it’s because I worked for it. I took two carrots because of how fast I was.”

“Why take things when they can be given to you?” the bunny asked, genuinely curious.

“So I don’t end up soft like you!” The rabbit laughed as the bunny looked away. “So long, plumpy bunny.”

Another two days went by. The rabbit finished its carrots—and, though it wouldn’t admit it, it missed talking to someone. It missed showing off. So it went back to the garden.

This time two carrots were tied to the cage. It took longer to cut them free with its teeth, but it managed. Then it snatched one more from the garden. Its teeth were as sharp and quick as its words.

Once again it stopped at the windowsill. The bunny looked wet and frustrated.

“Oy, bunny? Who’s steamed your carrots?”

“I was instructed to bathe today,” the bunny grumbled.

“Maybe if you weren’t so plump, soft, and silly, you could be free to bathe whenever you want—like me.” The rabbit puffed out its chest.

The bunny blinked and studied the rabbit. Then it said, “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” the rabbit repeated, utterly confused. “Are you thanking me for my advice?”

The bunny shook its head. “I’m thanking you for reminding me that being frustrated over cleanliness is like being frustrated that the sky is blue. Being cleaned is part of being cared for.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to survive free and dirty than be clean and stuck in a house?” the rabbit asked, curiosity stirring.

“How do I look stuck to you?” the bunny tilted its head.

“You were forced to be cleaned. How else can that happen unless you’re stuck?” the rabbit said plainly.

“I let her clean me,” the bunny answered softly. “It makes her happy to feel me as I am, instead of feeling the dirt covering me.”

“Dirt is a good shield,” the rabbit nodded. “It’s how I hide in the garden.”

“Yet you’re not hiding in the garden now,” the bunny said, eyes dropping to the carrot in the rabbit’s mouth. “Why do you keep coming back?”

“The carrots are really good here, and I’m smarter and faster than the farmer’s traps. They’re easy catches.” The rabbit laughed.

“An easy catch is not an easy life.” Again, the bunny’s words were too soft for the squeeze they gave the rabbit’s heart.

“Well, you’d know what an easy life is, wouldn’t you, pampered bunny? You’re just a willing easy catch! Giving up freedom and work for baths and soft fur. You’re just dinner waiting to happen.” The rabbit scoffed and ran.

The next day, the rabbit went back for more of the farmer’s delicious carrots.

“Pssst… Rabbit!” The rabbit paused. It was the bunny, now at the edge of the garden.

“Oh, look who can move!” the rabbit teased. “Why, pampered plumpy bunny—aren’t you afraid of being washed again?”

But the bunny didn’t answer the teasing. It looked toward the trap. “You should come in with me. I’m inviting you in because she wants you in.”

“Who? The farmer’s daughter?” The bunny nodded. The rabbit laughed. “Why? Does she want to help the poor little wild rabbit? Make me soft and clean and plumpy like you?”

“She wants to care for you,” the bunny said, firmer this time. “And you should follow. The farmer is getting smarter.”

“So am I.” The rabbit puffed out its chest again. “I’m getting faster and smarter and enjoying my easy catches. Maybe you should tell your caretaker you need to work more.”

“Please come with me,” the bunny insisted.

“I can make my own catches,” the rabbit said, lifting its nose. “And you can go back to sitting on your windowsill.” Then it ran for the carrot patch as the bunny sighed.

In the patch, the smell of carrots was more tantalizing than ever. Despite having three carrots yesterday, the rabbit wanted another today.

It could’ve grabbed one straight from the garden. Yet this time the cage held three of the biggest carrots it had ever seen—so big they wouldn’t even fit through the door. The rabbit thought it could nibble them down and pull them out before the door closed. It had quick teeth. It was very hungry. It could do this.

So the rabbit went into the cage and began nibbling.

Soon a nibble became a bite. A bite became a whole carrot. And why should it stop? It was going through them quickly. It could finish these three and still snatch one or two more from the garden.

It moved to the second carrot. It was so busy enjoying the big, juicy sweetness that it didn’t even hear the trap door close.

The next time the bunny saw the wild rabbit, the farmer’s family was eating rabbit stew. And the garden was quiet.

There is a way that seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death.” – ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭14‬:‭12‬ ‭NKJV‬‬