To find the rabbit waiting

She told me to tie the long, grey towelling rabbit by its ears to the sapling, because this way, should the child who had lost it return, she or he would find the rabbit waiting and what joy would ensue, so now I tell her that when I go down the path from Govetts Leap I manage to forget what I'd done -- about my abject obedience I almost say -- until I come to the bend where the thing is dangling, and each time I'm struck not so much by the body that's now hard to distinguish from the bark but the way the once brown stitches of the rabbit's eyes have become drained, as I've been trying to call it -- it's hard to describe -- of all that is friendly -- not dead of course, since it's always been dead.