AnthropomorPhobic

     When I posted my first entry Mel insisted that I tell you who I am – specifically that I am a Psychoanalyst and Social Worker.  I was hesitant, but he argued that these are my credentials, and going to be the reason people want to read this blog.  I hesitated because I know the restraint this puts on me – if this is a “credentialed” blog then I have professional and ethical responsibilities; in other words, I could get into trouble if I try to diagnose people I have never met - like Michele Bachmann or Sarah Palin (who will be appearing here as soon as she throws her tea bag into the ring).

     So, here’s the disclaimer – this is not a professional, diagnostic or therapeutic blog (except, perhaps, for myself).  Words like crazy, madness, or insanity are not intended for professional use here, and should be taken in the most colloquial sense.  However, that being said, I am not going to be able to completely avoid the lexicon I have worked in for decades.  I will try to limit mental health jargon as much as possible, and only use it to describe cultural issues as necessary – such as the Delusional Bunny Syndrome.

     As you know, I am having an issue with rabbits.  Notice that I do not call them bunnies.  Bunny is the name for rabbits that makes them cute.  The rabbits that have eaten hundreds of dollars of trees, shrubs and flowers in my yard ARE NOT CUTE.  Or are they?  See, I am struggling with the indoctrination I received from Beatrix Potter who corrupted me from an early age with anthropomorphic animals.  Images of bunnies and squirrels, in fetching Victorian garb, are seared into my mind.  

     The Delusional Bunny Syndrome is the reason that whenever I look out the window and see a rabbit or squirrel I go “awww”, why I secretly root for the rabbit whenever our red dog barrels across the yard after one, and why I still break for those pesky critters in the street – it is an automatic response.

     Children’s literature is replete with anthropomorphic characters.  Some might say that they reflect a child’s inner animal or are meant to help master anxiety, others might assert that they will foster empathy with other species.  These sympathies become quite confusing, though, when dealing with real wild animals.  Sometimes I feel like I am straddling a personality split between Mama Rabbit and Mr. MacGregor.  

     I do not believe there is a cure for Delusional Bunny Syndrome, so I will just have to hope the local foxes will do the dirty work of rabbit control – especially since my dogs couldn’t catch one if their lives depended on it. 

     Ok, ok, I can hear you screaming at me already: just yesterday I was talking about symbolism - what about the symbolic meaning of anthropomorphic animals in children’s literature?  True. True.  There is plenty of symbolism surrounding rabbits – but much of it is not cute at all.  In fact there seems to be a thread of sexuality, transcendence and psychosis associated with rabbits.  All that will have to wait for another posting.  For now, my survival kit has to contain Reality Testing as an antidote to Delusional Bunny Syndrome.