It was an October morning and the mist filled the valley below, that disappeared. At the top of the hill, a few timid rays of sunshine managed, with difficulty, to make their way through the milky blanket and allowed a glimpse, albeit faded, of the slender shapes of the trees.
Every day, before starting any work activity, I make a short visit to the small cemetery of the town. I would not be able to start the day without visiting the family grave and saying goodbye to my father who rests there.
It was hunting day, signaled by the howling voices of the hounds intent on chasing the frightened prey. Hunting is a noble and ancient art, now reduced to a painful and mistreated sporting activity. Why kill and, above all, why kill for sport?
I was asking myself that question as I pushed a door on the front door of the funerary chapelinside which the inhabitants stared at me from the oval photoceramics.
Suddenly I noticed, half hidden by the large central vase with red and white cyclamen, two eyes among the leaves, staring intently at me.
Above those eyes, a long ear moved intermittently, rotating the pavilion in various directions.
The beautiful hare stared at me with a mixture of fear and resignation, without moving or trying to escape. At that moment I thought of the hunt, of the big hounds and I looked at the photoceramics they had offered the hare a way of salvation within their silent home. No one would have dared to enter and take up their rifles in that sacred place!
The souls of the dead had opted for life! I looked again towards the beautiful hare who seemed to have understood and enjoyed that unexpected respite in a safe shelter in the small country cemetery. I gently closed the door, leaving a small crack open and walked away quietly, turning once more towards the chapel: everything was still, no one knew of the presence of the hare in that sacred place: only me and the souls of the dead. A life saved! Going down the valley, I asked myself questions about my beliefs about life after death. Traveling towards Asti I was happy and those dead people didn’t feel so distant: I think the hare thought the same as me.
*veterinarian —