6 September 2008 - 9:13Hoppin’

Over the course of almost this entire decade that will end in 2010, while I’ve been working with clients on their books, on other innovation projects, and on my own work, there has been one completely bizarre constant, often literally at my feet. Many conferences in my office have been momentarily interrupted when someone looked down and noticed that under my desk, not far from my shoes, rested a large and very real jackrabbit. She was not really a pet in those years. She had been injured, I had rescued her, and she decided to stay. We weren’t friends, it was simply that she decided we were less likely to eat her than many of the predators that lurked just beyond our sliding glass doors. Here’s a little piece I wrote to celebrate Rascal’s eighth anniversary sharing the same roof.

I’m trying to read the morning Times, but I can feel her eyes on the back of my neck. My wife, Leanne, is reading the paper, too. “Someone wants you to pick her up.” The someone is not our German Shorthaired Pointer, Tesla, who is pointing the last morsel of bagel at the moment. Read more…