Hopper

Hopper was the best pet a boy could ever have.

I once had a rabbit named Hopper.

My father had bought him for me on my birthday.

He was small and all white except for little black spots

on his back. He was a happy little thing, always moving around,

Never once staying in the same place. He liked to hop all day,

hop all night, hop, hop, hop, until he couldn't stop.

 

Hopper was no ordinary rabbit, I was sure.

Other rabbits just sat there, proving to be a bore,

Whilst Hopper sprang about, sniffing the underwear

in my mother's drawers, biting the heads off of flowers in

Grandmother's garden, and trying, but failing miserably to

bite his own stubby tail, twirling and twirling around in circles.

 

I loved playing with Hopper. I loved him like he was my own brother.

Hopper and I were inseparable. I looked out for him and he looked

out for me. We had each others backs. We stuck together like glue.

We would stay together forever, I decided, 'till death do us part.

 

Until one day, I couldn't find him. I looked high, I looked low,

My parents and I searched everywhere we could think of, but

came up with nothing. I was getting really worried, but I willed

myself not to cry. My grandfather once told me that men did

not cry, no matter what happened, so I didn't, because I was

a man and I would find Hopper, I just knew I would.

 

And I was right. I did find Hopper.

 

He was lying in the middle of a street downtown, ripped open,

sliced clean down the middle so that I could see all of his insides.

A pool of blood surrounded his body. His left leg twitched for only a

slight moment before going completely still.

 

I wanted to cry, Oh God I did, but I was afraid of disgracing my grandfather

and the rest of my family. Because, as he told me, men do not cry, no matter

what happened. They stood tall and fierce against the violent wind.

 

And that's what I did: I stood tall, I stood fierce, despite the loss of the dear friend

I called Hopper.

 

Author's Note

The person I'm talking about who had the rabbit was not me. It's just something I made up about a little boy. Please, keep that in mind.

Reviews

[Rose Tyler]

A real man can cry, and show he can feel emotions versus how society wishes men to present themselves as - no emotions but strong willed and able to protect. Societyy's told us that men should not be emotional, or it is a sign of weakness. But really,
Strength is pain leaving the body.

[Angie Diane♥&hea..]

I can say that only real men cry...if you a boy doesn't cry that doesn't make him a man. I liked the story within the poem though. I don't think the little boy's grandfather should have said that to him. He should have been able to cry. He was a little kid...the piece was touching though....because his best friend was an animal..and animals are really cute. Thanks for sharing though.

[Snickers]

Wow, this makes me want to cry, if I had a rabbit, and I found it like that, I would have bawled my eyes out, and stood tall, and fierce, letting the salty tears stream down my face running over my mouth tasting them. o.o, just me.

[Ruth]

This is wonderfully written, the childhood innocence lost through such an awful scenario!Quite a shattering read!
Kudos love
xx

[Legion]

It is amazing what we tell our children before they grow up. Sad and not bad.

[Tate Morgan]

Deep yet ephemeral

[the-One-with-the-Darkne..]

Sad.. but i like it. Emotions and imagerry are very good.

[Forever Mine]

I loved the begining, i thought it was really cute, then i got to the middle and thought "oh no, something happened". The end, was was sad and had lost all innocence. I like how you said "real men dont cry", but i believe real men do cry, that just my opinions though. I really enjoyed this though.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

the tale opens on a wonderland of extraordinary beauty laced through with the deep bond children naturally experience with beloved animals~ and then the trail diverts from delights with a curious little rabbit into a momentary pause where the story hovers . . . . descends into palpable anguish~ and how poignant and telling of the old skool mentality of making sure the young boys carry the air of solid steel even when breaking inside~ thoughtful and deeply moving~

[Coyote Poetry]

Those animals are very important to the children. My daughter lost her cat she was raised with. She is fourteen and still talk of the cat Purdy. I like this story. You create a happy place and took us to a sad place. Animals are friends who want little. A excellent poem. Thank you.