The Rabbit

 I had initially thought there was ample room.  In the store they seemed to fit just fine.  I walked on the tile floor as well as on the carpet and they felt great.

Here, walking along the sidewalk, my toes feel cramped, like there isn’t enough room in these shoes.  What could possibly be different between the floor of the shoe store and this sidewalk? And now that I have worn them outside, they won’t take them back.  I’m stuck.  They have my money and I have shoes that don’t fit.

Not only don’t they fit, but my feet hurt more and more with each step I take.  As I tried to figure out why all of a sudden they seem smaller than they did in the store, a rabbit, who had been munching something in the tall grass, sat up and spoke to me.

Hello, he said, I see you’re having a problem.

It’s my shoes, I replied, before realizing I was conferring with a rabbit.

I can tell, the rabbit said.  Could I offer you a suggestion?

You don’t wear shoes, I said.  What could you possibly know about footwear?

Okay then, the rabbit replied, be that way.  See if I care.

I could tell right away I had hurt his feelings.  I was rude, I told the rabbit, I’m sorry.

You are right about me not wearing shoes, but I have learned many things about sidewalks, he said.  For example, this one runs downhill.  As you are walking, you are sliding forward in your shoes, without even noticing it.  That causes your toes to crunch up against the inside toe of your shoes.

You are very wise, rabbit.  I had not thought of that.  I am, indeed, going downhill.  So what can I do to fix this?

First, said the rabbit, turn around and walk up-hill.  This will test my theory.  If your feet stop hurting when you go up hill, then your feet will slide to the back of your shoes and you’ll know I was right.

Truly these were complex thoughts for a rabbit.  I had to ask, just what kind of rabbit are you?

Snowshoe, he said smiling.