It really is not bad to live as a rabbit
I blink and pat the ground. It's soft but cold; the grass bears leftover morning dews that cling stubbornly to the leaves. It's not nice--why would a place be cold when the sun is shining brightly?
There--there's a stone over there. It's not soft, but it's warm. Because it's shining. I run over there, and pat the stone. Yes, it's warm. Before my mind could tell me to, my body already laid down, and I let out a sigh.
Ahh...yes, this is how it's supposed to be. It's warm and nice, and I can hear the sound of trickling water, as well as smell the subtle fragrance of those little flowers sprouting between the tickling blades of grass.
It'll be nice to take a nap like this, right?
Well, I try to, but I feel a vibration that comes closer and closer. When I try to close my eyes, I fly—umm, I mean, my body is getting lifted by a pair of claws. Oh, but it's soft, so I guess they're not claws. Hands?