The Lessons of Petunia Rabbit

By Della Long Halper

Petunia is a story about guilt, loss, and redemption. I wrote Petunia because it had been my professional experience that guilt and the difficulty in managing that emotion is perhaps the most ubiquitous bane of both children and young adults. In a sizable percentage of cases, the guilt acquired in childhood is still undiminished by those who have reached full adult and even older adult ages. Although guilt is experienced by most people at some time in their existence, there are simply too few guidelines when it comes to working through the discomfort that most feel when guilt becomes a part of their everyday thinking and feeling.

One of the more prevalent challenges encountered in the education and care of today's child is the responsibility parents and teachers undertake as they struggle to impart sensible and lasting guidelines in behavior choices. The story of Petunia Rabbit provides an enjoyable matrix through which the caretaker has a basis for this undertaking. Petunia's story demonstrates that even in the most dire of circumstances, faith, structure, and tradition continue to be of lasting importance in the life of the developing child and ultimately becomes the sanctuary for the self-hatred felt by a surprising number of youngsters and young adults in all levels of our society.

Many of today's children are overly protected in some venues but exposed to unacceptable (age inappropriate, pointlessly violent) material as seen in video games, on their computers, on television, and in films. The core event in Petunia's story is a huge flood that devastates her family's life and those of most of the characters included in the story.

Using a natural disaster as the impetus for events was a purposeful choice in that most individuals are able to identify with those events that result in the probability of altered lives and fortunes. And while devastating, natural disasters are not the result of purposeful or directed cruelty. The story of Petunia provides an excellent basis of learning from models within the family and in society. Petunia's story demonstrates the following:

1. The necessity of a personal belief system to augment and strengthen individual coping abilities and societal structures, which are often lost during chaotic events.

2. The importance of fostering reliability, competence, caretaking, and self-respect

3. The value of developing an awareness of the feelings and struggles of others.

4. The risk and uncertainty associated with impulsive behaviors.

5. The ultimate worth of meaningful work, interpersonal ties, and education.

6. The value of paying attention.

7. The challenge of responsibility.

8. The value of and need for suitable mentors.

9. The importance of using resources wisely, including emotional resources.

10. The necessity of building a reputation for honor and integrity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644165218

Book preview

Chapter 1

Petunia Takes an Inventory

Brrrring ! Petunia Rabbit opened her eyes and lifted her head from the pillow. She looked lazily around the orderly room until her gaze came to rest on the face of her little wind-up clock. It was 7:00 AM.

Seven o’clock, she thought sleepily. Then, aloud, Yikes, seven o’clock! I almost overslept! And what a strange and scary dream! So real, and so . . . oooh, don’t think about it! Well, scary or not, I’m obviously not really injured. She smiled at her silliness but gave herself a quick once-over to be on the safe side. Yep, she said aloud. I’m awake now. I’m all in one piece—and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.

She hopped down from her bed and pressed her nose against the cold glass of the bedroom window. She was delighted to see the first daffodils and crocuses poking up through the ground. Spring flowers at last! she thought with sincere pleasure. Too bad I can’t take the time to enjoy watching them grow. I’m going to town today, and I should take an inventory of the things I need. I’d better get dressed."

Turning from the window, she quickly made her bed, pulled off her pink flannel nightgown, pulled on a blue cotton jumper, and paused before the dresser mirror to smooth her whiskers, and tie a neat blue bow at the base of each down-turned ear. Then, satisfied that all was in order, went down the hall, through the parlor, the kitchen, and into the little pantry to make her list.

For the past year, Petunia had supported herself by sewing, knitting, and cleaning for her neighbors living in and around Honeystone Valley. Besides allowing herself this rare day away from her usual work schedule, Petunia was thrilled at the thought of getting something, anything, new. She was just as pleased that she would be able to transport any purchases in her first and only indulgence since she had starting earning her own living—a sturdy yellow wagon.

On her rare shopping trips, although she thought long and hard before making all but necessary purchases, she had always been tempted by an impressive array of choices. The availability of sellable items in the small village of Honeystone Valley was surprisingly broad.

Several inhabitants of the village made their living by traveling far south and sometimes west to procure a variety of foods and other supplies. These commodities were costly, but in great demand, especially during the late winter and early spring months when the villagers pantry shelves were depleted of home-canned goods, and the ground was still barren. In addition, the local importers supplied the town’s stores and markets with certain exotic goods like avocados and bananas that made going to town an exciting and always greatly anticipated experience for all prospective shoppers.

Hmmm, she said aloud as she entered the pantry on this sunny spring day, her pencil poised above a notepad, "What do I really need?

Well, I really do need some towels—I’m down to my last few tattered rags, and I probably should buy some sesame cookies to have on hand for guests—just in case I should ever have any guests. I’ll have to check the price of those, of course. I’m sure I could make them cheaper, but it would be nice to have the fancy ones. And uh, parsnip tea, can’t forget that . . . and of course, flour, honey, and salt . . . perhaps some early vegetables like spinach and asparagus, just enough to last until I can find greens growing wild around here, and until my own garden begins to produce. And oh, seeds! Many kinds of seeds for planting.

As she raised the pantry window, Petunia thought of the tidy rows of vegetables she would grow and felt a wave of satisfaction sweep over her. I am so fortunate to have the space for a garden, she mused, as she surveyed the large back yard. How many animals are lucky enough to have such a lovely home with enough land to plant a garden? . . . Especially after the flood. I’m lucky to be sure, but golly, who knew it would take this much work to support a home? Through the window she could hear the joyful song of a robin.

She stopped writing and cocked her head to one side, enjoying the carefree melody until her former thoughts returned. Wasn’t it just a year ago that I sincerely believed that work was an imposition—something that had nothing to do with me? One short year has brought a complete change in my priorities. Maybe change is a natural part of loss. There are some wonderful things that come to us in our lives, but it is the loss of things that seem to make an impression. The sudden loss of things that we thought would always be there . . .

Even though she was in a hurry to complete her chores, thinking about the arbitrary nature of life caused Petunia to look away from her inventory and stare out of the pantry window, barely aware of still holding her pencil and notepad. Something was nagging at her insides, something sad and miserable. She wandered back into the kitchen and laid pencil and notepad down on the table. Reaching out to take hold of the back of a chair, she stopped for a moment, frantically trying to corral her escaping feelings and hurriedly shove them back into some hiding place deep within her.

Taking an inventory of the things I really need, she repeated mechanically. "What do I really need. Is it tea and towels? I really need my Mother and Father. I really need my family back. I really need to be given another chance to be a better daughter. She sat down. How I wish I could put those things in a list and have some special power magically restore them to me."

She continued to sit until a stronger voice within her whispered, None of that, dearie. You know very well that keeping busy is the best remedy for self-pity, so get off that chair and just keep moving. New towels and a few other essentials are the most you can hope for these days. Nodding her head and sighing deeply, Petunia retrieved her unfinished list and started to reenter the pantry, when she was interrupted by the sound of a loud splat! and a pleasant-sounding yoo-hoo!

Returning to her bedroom, she raced to the window, where she was furious to see a big dripping mud ball slowly oozing down the pane and the tawny, scruffy back of Tommy Cat disappearing behind a shrub. Then, just as she was adjusting to the outrage, she noticed with dismay that the mud ball was only part of his mischief for, in addition to that mess, many of the daffodil shoots she had admired just this morning were either broken off or trampled.

Ooh! fumed Petunia, as she fought back tears of frustration. Not again! The next time I have to wash this window, I’m going to use that big bully for a squeegee!

Wait! No! she said, clapping her paw over her mouth. "No! No! No! I must remain calm and just clean up this mess. I’m not going to give in to my bad feelings anymore! I’m through with that. Mom always says that patience is a virtue. It must be, because it’s so hard to learn."

But . . . she said aloud as she struggled to contain her anger and outrage, "but Tommy Cat is a bona-fide nuisance! There must be at least some situations when a firing squad is called for!"

And why do things like this happen just when I’m in a hurry to go somewhere? she muttered, returning to the pantry. She tucked two clean rags into her pocket and banged the back door in her hurry to the well, and filled her bucket with water. What can I do about this? she said with clenched teeth. He just won’t stop tormenting me. What would Mom and Dad do if they were here? She stopped and waited a moment as if expecting a celestial response, but since none was forthcoming, her mind sought another possible course of action.

Maybe the right thing to do is tell someone who has the authority to stop that stupid cat—someone like Sheriff Nico. I’ll simply go into town and carefully explain to the sheriff what Tommy is doing and make it clear that it’s all his fault. Then . . . But through her cluttered thoughts, Petunia could clearly hear her Mother’s calm voice questioning, "Think carefully, Petunia. Might you have a part in this? Could there be a reason he always picks on you?"

Petunia gave her head a small shake, and the voice went away, but she somehow felt less sure of the rightness of her former indignation. Just clean the window, she told herself. Your angry feelings won’t wash away the mud."

Petunia drew the little garden bench over to her bedroom window and stepped up. Just look at this window, she lamented. He didn’t miss an inch of it. And this is the third time this week that I’ve had to wash a window because of that, that . . . misfit!

While engrossed in her fantasy of roasting Tommy Cat over a low fire, Petunia caught sight of her frowning face reflected in the window. You’re spending too much time plotting revenge, she lectured herself, when you’re already getting a late start. Enough of that!

She hopped down from the bench, went inside to put away the cleaning materials, and returned to her bedroom to lay out the clothes she would wear to town.

I should wear something nice today, she thought. It’s possible I could see someone I haven’t seen for a while—although not probable. The flood . . . again. I’ve seen almost no one I know for ages, except Miss Erin at the Fabric Shoppe, Grandpa Hedgehog, who still manages to show up everywhere, Sammy, the owner of the general store and Constable Parker, and I haven’t seen even them for such a long time!

Last year’s terrible flood had washed away more than Petunia wanted to think about now. Many formerly local animal families had scattered hither and yon. And even worse, some families, including Petunia’s, had become separated from each other with no means of reconnecting.

Petunia thought of the family she had not seen for an entire year—Dad and Mom Rabbit (Walter and Nell), her younger brother Billy, her sister, Melodie, and the twins Theodore (Tootles) and Marianna, whom everyone called Anna. Try as she might to stay focused on the present, the same thought came to her once again, "Where are they?"

Don’t go there, the voice of reason warned again. So after giving her head another shake, she forced herself to smile. Okay, she comforted herself, "you’re all better now.

Now, what shall I wear? she wondered aloud in the cheeriest tone of voice she could manage. After all, one should always try to look one’s best. How about I wear this?

Petunia considered an apple-green pinafore that she had made for herself. I’ll have to be careful not to get it dirty—it is my best one. Gosh, I’m so lucky Mom taught me to sew. She smiled in spite of herself at the memory of her Mother making her do a seam over and over again. She thought her sewing lessons were boring and pointless. Rather than benefit from her Mother’s expert skill with a needle, most of her energy went into arguing about being forced to do what she considered a colossal waste of time.

What a pity that I didn’t pay more attention when I had a sewing expert begging me to learn, she mused with real regret. I guess at the time I thought I was destined for a loftier future without the need for any practical skills. Yet there’s no denying that sewing has certainly become my lifeline. Who’d have ever thought that?

After laying out what she hoped would be a suitable outfit along with matching ribbons, she ran to the window and started to search the sky for dark clouds. She saw none. The day seemed sunny and bright—a fine day.

Oh, I do hope it doesn’t rain, she wailed to the empty room. Then she scolded herself, Why do you always think something bad will happen? The dam’s been rebuilt. There won’t be another flood! Besides, you don’t have the time to be mooning over things you can’t control.

But once again, she wavered. Standing quietly by her bed, she began to think about her family. She hoped that they had somehow managed to survive the flood, just as she had. I may never know, she thought. That’s the worst part. I may never know. And the weight of this thought made Petunia slowly sink down on her bed.

She looked wistfully out the newly washed window at the pale blue spring sky with its warming sun. She wished she could stop wondering if her family were seeing this day too. And then, as sometimes happened, her family’s loving faces came to her, and their voices, laughing and singing, filled her, as her memories took her back to happier times. And in a soft voice, she began to sing her lonely song.

I Miss Them Most

Some days I have to think about the times I said goodbye

to those who cared, whose life I shared.

I wonder if they think of me and wish that they were here,

and then I try to be brave and not to cry

I miss them most when the world is full of sunshine.

I start each day wishing evening were at hand

And when dawn comes streaming through the mist

my heart is full of pain so I do my best to carry on

and try not to complain because

I miss them most when the world is full of singing

I hear their song ever ringing on the wind

But I’ll get along knowing that I really loved them

and that one happy day, I hope and pray I will be glad again

I miss them most when the world is full of laughter

I see their smiles even after they are gone

But I’ll get along knowing that they really loved me

and to this hope I cling that one day I’ll sing,

I’ll sing a joyful song.

Chapter 2

At Home with the Rabbit Family

Petunia continued sitting quietly for a time so totally captivated by past memories that she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. Then, returning to the present with a start she scolded, This always happens when I think about the past—I waste time and I feel rotten. But it seems like I can’t help it, because I do it all the time. That’s the best thing about having to concentrate on my work. At least, for a little while, I stop thinking about my family and the day of the flood.

Hopping up from her bed, she went into the kitchen to begin her day. Hard experience had taught her to be prepared for the unexpected. So before she left home, she must tend to the basics: gather wood in her basket and lay the evening’s fire, sweep the floor, and then bring in enough fresh water for her afternoon tea, the after-dinner washup, and if necessary, a bath. She was quite certain that after a long day of shopping and pulling her wagon to and from town, she would be too tired to go to the well. It was simple to carry up enough water from the well to make tea, or even to wash the evening dishes, but to fill a whole bathtub required trip after trip, which is why she usually tried hard to stay clean.

When she first became solely responsible for the house, chores took up the greater part of her day, but after a year of this routine, she could complete them quickly. So armed with her bucket, her rag basket, and her broom, she set to work. Her cleaning followed a routine that insured that no piece of furniture went undusted—no floor unswept. She worked without thinking, allowing her body to automatically go from one task to the next as she had done so often before. While her paws were busy and productive, her thoughts lazily strayed to the happenings of the past year.

That year had begun with no anticipation of change, but had ended, remarkably enough, with her coming to live here, so far away from her family’s home in the valley. She still felt overwhelmed by the chain of events that had replaced her now distant and abandoned childhood with a new and much more demanding existence as a young rabbit living alone in her own home.

It had been about this time last year, early spring. She had been a carefree young rabbit who was always bending the rules and getting herself into trouble with her parents. But the world was such a wonderful place with so many things to see and do. And Petunia wanted to try them all. Her parents’ admonitions about the dangers in her world fell on deaf ears because she really had no respect for experiences not directly her own and she had never been exposed to anything in her young life but understanding and love.

Last spring, she had followed every trail through every woods and meadow she could find. Each succeeding day had seemed brighter and more exciting than the last, even though the weather had been particularly bad and often scary with strong winds and sudden violent storms.

In many important ways, Petunia was an innocent child. Protected from the harsh reality of life by her parents, she began to believe that although there certainly were rules in life, none applied to her—that there was no punishment that she couldn’t talk her way out of, no wrong that she couldn’t find a way to make right. And as she was more and more successful in doing exactly as she pleased, she became more and more bold in her choice of rules to bend or break.

One Saturday morning, Petunia and her brothers and sisters were finishing their breakfast while from the living room, where he sat reading the Honeystone Gazette, her Father Walter could be heard whistling and periodically exclaiming on the news of the day. Every once in a while, he would comment loudly to the family on something he was reading, to which his wife Nell’s eternal response was a quiet, How very interesting, dear.

After breakfast, Mom Rabbit turned to her children as she brushed the carrot muffin crumbs from the tablecloth and said, "This is the kind of day that we animals need to fear, especially since we have had so many rainstorms this spring. Old Mr. Owl has warned that the Honeystone Dam upstream needs repairing badly and may not be relied upon, and that there will likely be another major storm coming. The combination of those two happenings could spell trouble.

I want you children to stay close to home. I don’t want to be looking for you if the weather gets bad or if it looks as if we’re going to get our feet wet. You all remember the story I told you about my Momma’s floors getting flooded when I was a girl. It took us a whole week to clean up that mess. Do you understand?

Yes, Momma, the children chorused.

Petunia, her Mother asked, you say, ‘yes, Momma,’ but did you really hear what I said?

Yes, Mother, Petunia answered, giving her a sweet smile. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you need me.

See that you are, her Mother said evenly. You’re getting too old for me to have to remind all of the time. And none of your charm, missy; this is important.

Although Petunia was in a hurry to run out the door, she noticed that a serious look had crossed her Mother’s usually smiling face. She tried to leave anyway, but her Mother reached out and stopped her.

Turning Petunia around in order to face her directly, and with real concern in her soft brown eyes, she said, "Listen to me, Petunia. Life can be so uncertain, especially for us more defenseless animals. You really have no idea. Even when we are very careful, the weather, predator animals, or a whole host of other dangers are always a concern. I worry about you. You don’t seem to understand that there are consequences to careless actions, some quite serious."

I know, I know, said Petunia, feeling somewhat exasperated. Really, Mom, I wish you’d give me more credit. I know all about the dangers in life. Really, I do.

Do you, now? responded Nell softly as she searched Petunia’s face, hoping to see some sincere understanding and appreciation for what she was telling her. Seeing none, she added, Irresponsible rabbits don’t survive, Petunia. So even though you think you know all about the dangers in life, you make sure you stay near the house as you’re supposed to. Besides, we need you to work in the garden. It’s past time to get rid of the old growth to make way for the new planting. And please, do your best to do a good job, won’t you? The garden is very important to us.

Petunia rolled her eyes. "Mom, I know that," she said softly but with some impatience.

Nell smiled and said, Of course you do. And giving Petunia a long look and a tight hug, she took her by the paw and led her to the back door. "I am serious, my dear," she added as her oldest child pulled away and hopped into the yard.

Nell continued watching as Petunia started doing one cartwheel after another, interrupted not by weeding the garden but by accidentally crashing into the clematis arbor. As she looked on, her earlier smile faded into a wistful expression.

Billy, Mom called from the doorway while scanning the sky with a worried expression on her face, keep an eye on Melodie and the twins, won’t you?

Okay, Mom, Billy said brightly.

Petunia, looking in Billy’s direction, crossed her eyes and mouthed, Okay, Mom! and then slowly turned to face her Mother. It doesn’t look a bit like rain to me, she said. Old Mr. Owl always finds something to worry us, she grumbled in a somewhat lower tone.

None of that, missy, said her Mother. You will show respect for someone who has been proven to be as sensible as Tony Owl. I’m afraid that you think you know best, Petunia, she continued, and I hope when you find out one day how mistaken you are, you won’t be required to pay a price for your thoughtless behavior. Remember, Petunia, others will judge you by your behavior, warned Mother. Behavior counts. Your actions become your future.

I didn’t mean any disrespect, Momma, said Petunia petulantly. But Mom Rabbit had already returned to her chores.

For a time, all the children stayed near the house, as their Mother had requested. But later in the morning, as the sun was fairly bursting through the clouds, Petunia decided that it would be okay if she went only as far as the river.

After all, she said to herself, "Mom hasn’t checked on us all morning. I’ll bet even she would admit that it’s pretty nice out. If she was really paying attention to the weather, she’d probably change her mind about Mr. Owl’s warnings. Besides, how can Mom and Dad really understand anything? mused Petunia. All they ever want to do is work. There’ll be plenty of time for that when I’m their age. Besides, I don’t need Mr. Owl to tell me what kind of a day it’s going to be. I’ve got eyes." And so, despite the warning of the quiet voice within, she started to review the choices she really didn’t have.

Hey, Billy, she said. Let’s go to the river.

No, Petunia, Billy said earnestly. Mom said no.

Ooooh! Mom said noooo! Petunia parroted in a singsongy voice. Come on, you old granny, Petunia teased. What are you afraid of? Mom won’t even know. We’ll be back in five minutes.

You go if you want, Petunia, Billy said. I promised Mom I’d watch Melodie and the twins. I thought you were supposed to do the garden? You haven’t even started.

"I’m going to do the garden, Mr. Mom says," but later, Billy, later. I’ve got things I must do right now.

Oh, you do, do you? Well, that’s just fine, an exasperated Billy answered. Just count me out, Petunia. I said I’d watch the young ones, and I’m going to. You’d better think twice before you disobey Mom is all I can say. But you never listen. You’re smarter than everybody, aren’t you?

As a matter of fact, I am, answered Petunia sarcastically.

As Billy moved past his sister to return to the little ones playing in front of the house, Petunia casually stuck out her foot. Billy stumbled over it and fell flat.

Oh, doggone it! he fumed as he picked himself up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. These were clean. Now look at them!

Petunia exploded in laughter. Oh, come on, it was funny. You’re not that dirty. You’re always so serious, Billy, she gasped through her laughter. I swear, sometimes I think you’re thirty years old.

And sometimes I think you’re two years old, Petunia Rabbit, Billy retorted as he indignantly hopped off.

Boy, oh boy! Petunia giggled, recalling the sight of her brother sprawled on the ground. "Doesn’t anyone in my family have a sense of humor? It’s truly a wonder that I came from such a gutless group. Someone in this family has to show a little gumption. Imagine Mom thinking that I don’t know any more than a baby. If she only knew how adventuresome and brave I really am, wouldn’t she be surprised?"

And with that self-satisfied thought in mind, she turned and hopped off down the path toward the clover meadow and the river beyond while she sang a happy song.

Young in a Young World

In the morning in the springtime I will rise with the sun

In a hurry to be ready to be wandering just for fun

Gentle breezes softly blowing beckon me on my way

While my heart longs for adventure on this most exciting day

In the morning in the springtime there is so much to do

Cross a river; find a gull’s nest; fly a kite above the slough

Walk a fence line; climb a tall tree; look for mushrooms in the grass

Never worry never bother with the problems of the past

Who could ever think of working when there’re fun things to do

Roll a barrel, find a beehive, skip a flat stone or two

Put a message in a bottle; look around for axolotls

I’ll play all the days till the sun’s final rays

Silly faces, secret places, wagon races, open spaces

There’s much to explore once you sneak out the door

Seem to always get in trouble but I’m just having fun

I’m a youngster in a young world and there’s so much to be done

Gentle breezes softly blowing beckon me on my way

While my heart longs for adventure on this most exciting day

Chapter 3

The Flood

I just don’t know what Mr. Owl could be thinking, Petunia wondered as she skipped on the little path that led away from her family’s house over the crest of the rise and then down through the bottom land to the river. It’s a good enough spring day. "Well, maybe a little blowsy out . . . But just because it might rain doesn’t mean we all need to stay home and build a boat."

Once she reached the banks of the turbulent river, its power mesmerized her. She stared quietly for a moment and then realized with a start that she should return home before her absence was noticed. Yet she wasn’t ready to return home. The green land and swaying trees beyond the river beckoned her to join them and so she hesitated.

I’d really better go, she thought. "I told Billy I’d only be gone for five minutes, and he wouldn’t come even for that short time. Go figure. Of course, I do need to go back, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I just went over the bridge and saw the river from the other side—just to have a complete picture of what I’m seeing here. Well, if I’m going, I’d better hurry because I said I’d be back in no time and I certainly intend to keep my promise.

And I don’t care if Billy doesn’t come with me, she thought to herself as she hurried on, "because on the other side of this river I’ve got some real friends, Sally and Bobby Squirrel. They’ll want to play with me even if he doesn’t. Of course, I don’t have the time to go all the way to their house—but I’m sure they’d be happy to see me if I did. Billy just thinks I’m selfish and scatterbrained. Well, phooey to him! I don’t care what he thinks!"

But Petunia did care. She was secretly hurt by the idea that Billy didn’t approve of what she did. He didn’t even seem to admire her for her bravery and fun-loving ways. And though she couldn’t admit it to herself, her belief that he might think he was superior to her was the chief reason she felt so driven to torment him.

Why doesn’t Billy ever feel as I do? she pondered while stopping momentarily to give this puzzle her full consideration. "Or if he does, why doesn’t he do something about it? She could think of no answer, so she shrugged her shoulders and continued forward. I guess he’s just a boring blockhead," she concluded, as three more hops brought her to the river bridge.

The water rushing under the heavy wooden structure was so high from all the spring rains and melting winter snow, she could almost touch it with an outstretched toe. She twitched her little nose to shake off the droplets of mist collecting on her whiskers. Wow! she thought excitedly. I bet even Billy would think this was neat!

Once Petunia reached the other side of the river, she began to bargain with reality. I could get to my friends’ house in no time. I’ve gone this far, what would it hurt to just drop in to say ‘hi.’ I certainly wouldn’t want to insult them by not even stopping by their house when I’m so close. After all, they’re very nice and they wouldn’t do that to me, I’m sure. Finally feeling confident that her actions were justified, she turned and began the long uphill hop to the Squirrel’s tree home.

Sally and Bobby were very nice red squirrels. Although about her age, she had first met them, not at grade school, but during one of her excursions across the river and into the countryside. She hadn’t seen them before, because they were enrolled in the Guiding Light School and not the public Forest Friends School that Petunia attended.

She was certain that her parents would approve of them, but they would probably ask how she’d met them. Then Petunia would have to admit that she’d been wandering further than she was allowed. She wasn’t about to admit that because there would be consequences she did not want to think about. All that we’re disappointed in you stuff that she found so hard to shrug off. Petunia hesitated in her skipping as she recalled her Father’s stern look and her Mother, trying to talk reason to her with tears in her eyes. Then as she weighed the worth of being free to roam on such as beautiful day against staying home and weeding the garden, she slowly resumed skipping.

"Why would they insist that I stay by the house on Saturday and work? Of course I intend to help, but must it be this minute? Don’t I get any time off? Is it clear to anyone except me that the things that make them unhappy wouldn’t even happen if they would just try to understand me? If only they understood me, I wouldn’t be forced to lie to them.

I guess I’ll have to keep Sally and Bobby as my secret friends, she concluded. At least until I can find a reason for knowing them that won’t make Mom and Dad suspicious. Too bad they don’t go to my school.

Petunia’s parents knew that she was often willful and impulsive, but they trusted her. And because they trusted her, she was never closely questioned. Mom and Dad Rabbit believed that one was to be presumed innocent until reasons surfaced that clearly indicated guilt. So she did her best to make sure that they continued to trust her by being careful not to get caught disobeying. Besides, she reasoned, I don’t think what I’m doing is so wrong.

Although Petunia knew that she had been told specifically and repeatedly not to cross the river bridge, she did not connect crossing it to wrongdoing. Why, gee whiz, she’d made new friends, learned about new places, experienced new situations . . . all things that she believed to be good—and that anyone, even her parents, would think of as good.

What I’m doing is more like a kind of education, she thought contentedly. Why wouldn’t my parents approve? One of these days I’ll bring Sally and Bobby to my house so Mom and Dad can see for themselves how nice they are. It’s not as if I’m hanging out with that hoodlum Tommy Cat. "Eww! Just thinking about him gives me the creeps."

It had taken a while, but from that first time she’d gotten up the nerve to set her rabbit foot on the river bridge, crossing it had become easier and easier—so much so that sometimes it was difficult to remember she wasn’t allowed to do it. In truth, Petunia had been crossing the bridge for several weeks now. And in place of the guilt she’d felt at first, this rule-bending made her feel very clever and added to the excitement of it all.

So it happened that on one of these secret outings she chanced to see Sally and Bobby Squirrel chasing each other through the trees, and she’d made friends with them. Petunia admired their fearless tree-to-tree gymnastics and their cheerful and carefree ways. Best of all, Bobby and Sally’s parents were very welcoming to her. Mr. Squirrel seemed to really enjoy the children’s spirited play, and Mrs. Squirrel would often bring them cookies.

Still, Petunia was always a little fearful that she would be caught, so she did not stay away long enough to raise suspicions. And before even being asked where she’d been, she would offer an explanation like, I’ve just spent another half hour looking for mushrooms in our meadow, but I never find a single one, because somebody always beats me to them. Only Billy rolled his eyes when her parents would encourage her to look elsewhere if she’d had no success in the meadow.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened. Constable Parker, the town’s one-animal police force, was patrolling the far end of the river bridge just as she ran across. Mr. Parker was a huge black Newfoundland dog and was given much respect by most all of the local animals because he was so capable but also caring and trustworthy. He was affectionately referred to as Parky behind his back, but to his face, everyone called him Mr. Parker or Constable Parker. Although their eyes met, he said nothing as he gave her his long serious look.

Heavens to huckleberries! muttered Petunia. There was no doubt that she had been seen. For several nights, she lived in fear that he would tell her Mother. She concocted and rejected several whopping stories to explain her presence on the forbidden bridge. Do mushrooms grow on bridges? Would they accept that? She didn’t think so. But when nothing happened, she decided that Mr. Parker, in addition to being trustworthy, was not a tattletale, and that perhaps he, too, believed that she was mature enough to know where she should and should not go.

Jumpin’ jackrabbits, she shuddered, if Tommy Cat had seen me, I’d have to sell everything I owned to bribe him not to tell my parents. Why can’t he be more like Mr. Parker instead of a sassy, smart-mouthed rule-breaker? For the life of me, I’ll never understand what makes him tick!

Yet Mr. Parker was even more of a mystery. Knowing that he was able to keep important information to himself won Petunia’s admiration, but it also puzzled her. How did he get to be so good at keeping secrets and why? And what if Mr. Parker’s silence was not due to respect for her maturity, but confidence that she would ultimately do the right thing and tell on herself?

At these times, she thought uneasily about the weekly classes that she and the other animal children attended at Honeystone Meeting House. Just last week, the lesson was the importance of standing in the light by doing not whatever you feel like doing, but what is right. Yet for Petunia, temptation’s voice was often the loudest, and even though very young, she’d undergone too many incidents of lying to herself and others without being seriously questioned or punished. The success she had experienced with re-labeling her bad behaviors as not so bad made it relatively easy to continue breaking rules with little awareness of her obvious lack of responsibility toward those who trusted her as well as the absence of any regret for her behavior. Therefore, on this day as in so many other days, she had crossed the forbidden bridge with a thrill in her heart and very little else in her head.

Lost in the anticipation of friends and fun (and hopefully cookies), Sally! Bobby! she called. Now where might they be? She stood quietly for a moment feeling the stiffening breeze ruffle her ears and then spotted the pair chasing each other through the high branches of a hickory tree. There they are! she thought with pleasure. Hey! Sally! Bobby! Hi! she called as she nimbly hopped in their direction. Whatcha doin’?

Playin’ hide-and-seek. We can’t go far from home because Mom says we’re going to have more rain later today, added Sally. Then thoughtfully, she added, I think she thinks we’re in my room playing pigs and whistles, but we thought it would be okay to go out just until the rain begins. It’s getting kind of windy, but I think we can still play for a while if you can stay.

Sure, said Petunia. Only I can’t stay for long, either. I was warned about the rain thing too. My Mom believes everything Tony Owl says, she scoffed while rolling her eyes. And besides, she added in the tone of one who is used to shouldering heavy responsibility, if I don’t prepare the family garden, it won’t get done!

Sally and Bobby nodded gravely to show their understanding of Petunia’s importance, but almost immediately Bobby playfully tapped Petunia’s arm and yelled, Got you last! Startled, Petunia took out after him to return the tap. Then the three youngsters began running around in crazy circles, squealing with laughter.

Exhausted, they fell to the ground laughing, and forgetting all about rain, nut trees, and gardens. Then, Bobby proposed a game of hide-and-seek. You’re it, Petunia, he called over his shoulder as he and Sally took off running.

Her paws covering her eyes as she counted, Petunia became aware that the day was not so nice anymore. The wind, which had been only a breeze when she’d left home, had suddenly begun to blow much harder. And sneaking a quick peek up through her paw blindfold, she saw that the sky, bright enough only moments before, was now growing quite dark. Oh gee, I forgot all about the time, she thought with a creeping feeling of dread. I bet Mom’s noticed that I’m not weeding, darn it! And then, Oh dear! [Splat!] Was that a raindrop?"

Sally, Bobby! she called, abruptly dropping her paws from her eyes. I gotta go home. It’s starting to rain. But the Squirrel children did not answer. Now, as she often did when having to face unplanned-for consequences, Petunia felt a twitch of worry in the pit of her stomach. It told her that something was wrong and maybe scary, too. She remembered her Mother’s warning about the weather and she wanted to get home as soon as possible. Yet she just didn’t want to leave her friends without saying goodbye in case they were looking for her. So she hopped back and forth through all of their play areas, calling and calling. But very shortly, her voice could not