Shortly after I moved into my new house, I found a bunny rabbit in the window well. My father, being the loving, compassionate man he is, told me to jump in there and get it out. After I looked at him like he was crazy, I reluctantly climbed down in the well and started doing one of my first "homeowner duties". While I was down there, I found three mice. I was terrified the mice were going to run up my pant leg and the bunny was going to jump out of my hands into my face. As Dad and Koda stood on the outside looking in, I grabbed the bunny and half tossed/half catapulted the poor thing out, then got the mice out. Dad stood at the top and laughed at me the whole time while I was shrieking and squealing. After my daring rescue, I climbed out of the hole and preceded to haul butt into the house and wash my hands and arms although I had thick leather gloves on.
Since then, whenever I get my mail, I check the window well to see if anything has fallen in (I have yet to get window well covers, which would solve the majority of the problem). When I look in, I stand about three feet away from the edge and peer into it with one foot in front of the other, so, if necessary, I can make a quick retreat. I have this horrible fear that there will be a mad bunny rabbit in there and it will (somehow) jump out at me when I look in. As irrational as it is, I am fairly certain the family of the bunny who fell in there last year is out for revenge.
Where do these fears come from? Is it something in our past that triggers an alarm reaction and, from that point forward, we just associate that reaction with a situation? I've never actually had a bunny jump out at me, but the possibility is very real in my head. I'm sure I could get some kind of therapy to make my "condition" go away, but I'd rather just peer over the edge and keep my neighbors wondering what is so interesting in my window wells.
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