Chapter 9

“Mio!” I look around and see more droppings scattered by the front door and I frown. I’d read about that online when I did research; that’s how rabbits mark their territory.

“Ugh,” I huff and dash outside just as the rain starts falling.

“Couldn’t you have used the litterbox?” I ask him when I’m back inside, preparing his breakfast. I clean up after him and, on a whim, I check the back door and find the same thing there.

Has he declared the house his territory? It’s kind of cute, but couldn’t he at least have done it outside?

“You like it here, then?” I rub between his ears with my index finger and slide my hand down his back, but he just ignores me in favor of his tasty breakfast.

As the rain pelts the house from every direction—I fear the storm will break the windows—I spend the morning clearing out Nana’s clothes, going through the rest of her things, deciding what to throw away, donate, or keep, and just puttering around, humming.