Fifty years ago I had a young family of three boys. My husband Johnny and I left them with a friend while we made a rare trip to the cinema in Liverpool.
It was dark and pouring with rain but with
the headlights shining on the road 
we saw something ahead of us. Johnny pulled to a stop and I jumped out, ran to the grass edge and grabbed a small, wet, and frightened creature. I wrapped it safely in my woollen hat and insisted that my husband turn back and head for home. We thought it was a baby rabbit because it had long ears and was grayish-brown in colour. Once home, we filled a box with torn-up newspaper and a warm towel. We named our new animal Bobsy as we had no idea of its sex.
Sadly though, on the third day with us, it caught its back foot in a door and we quickly realised it was broken. We rushed to the vet (兽医), who said, "It's only a rabbit, I'll put it to sleep." Our response was a very determined, "No way !"We found another vet and told that she was a baby hare. We were told we should continue to keep her in her box for a week and her foot would heal.
After her recovery, Bobsy learnt to use the kitty litter tray. She would comb her long ears with her front paws. The local paper heard about this and came to our house to take her photo and write a story about her. We had her for seven wonderful years before we moved to New Zealand and we will never forget her.
