“What year?” Vince asks. “1963.” I say with a certain amount of pride. “Huh, year of the Rabbit.” He states knowingly. I raise an eyebrow, where does he come up with these things? Glancing in the rearview mirror I see him chuckling and slyly peeking at his phone, “You’re a genius Vincent! Learn something new every day.”

Seriously, I never knew. How did I manage to get through fifty-five years and just now come to find out that I am one of the chosen few born in the year of Rabbit? And to think there are others. Suddenly I feel part of a Fluffle.

Apparently, unbeknownst to me, there are billions of people in China that track this kind of thing. Dating way back to 14th century B.C. And, as usual, its full of meaning lurking just below the surface. Twelve years, twelve animals, twelve lunar cycles, twelve months of the year, the oldest known calendar is a series of twelve pits in Scotland dating back 10,000 years give or take (dare I say 12,000?). Roll boxcars in dice, think double six dominos, right? Btw, you can play both by the Santa Monica Pier, which, by chance (?), is at the end of Route 66 (as in 6+6=12) and not far from our apartment and the original IHOP. Are you kidding me, I hop? Translate as: me, born the year of the rabbit, hop? A coincidence? I think not…

Signs are everywhere if you let yourself open up to the possibility: Watership Down remains a favorite book (that I read when I was twelve), never got comfortable with the line “I’m overdue, I’m in a rabbit stew” from AIWL, I have been “down the rabbit hole” on many occasions, and I always thought of Elmer J. Fudd as an antihero. There is definitely meaning there. I think.

I ran into a big red rabbit standing on the sideline at one of Vince’s soccer games some years back. It was just standing there on the sideline, for no known reason, painted red of all things. At first, I was a little worried that I was the only one that noticed he was there, so I spent the first part of the game ignoring him, not mentioning it to anyone, and nervously keeping an eye on things. Big red rabbits sort of freaked me out. But then, as it turns out, the owners brought him along to cheer on the boys and I think they said “intimidate” the other team. They were French so something might have been lost in translation.

Or better yet, just the other day, I left my warren and was out on the Third Street Promenade minding my own business, when I ran right into a photo of a giant rabbit by the Shake Shack. Thing was huge, just standing there, watching people go by. He had those eyes that stare at you the whole time. I noticed because it’s was a bit unnerving.

Anyway, now that I am in the know, year of the rabbit and all, now that I see the signs, I am comfortable with my fate. I do sense that my nose twitches more, I tend to tap my feet (thump, thump, thump) and I finally understand why I have been so focused lately on box jumps, broad jumps and vertical leaps.

“Vince, when we get to the store remind me we need another big bag of carrots…”

Onward->