June 28, 2006  Des res      June 12, 2006  Run, rabbit, run  The
other day my rabbit shook hands with the mayor of Huesca. It was
La Fería del Libro: for a week at the end of May, all the
bookshops in the town go and set up shop in huts in the park and
sell as many books on a Sunday morning as we'd normally sell in
a month. The mayor came round to talk to the stallholders, much
in the manner of Her Majesty the Queen: I was wearing the rabbit
at the time and so we touched paws. (I probably would not, I
imagine, have touched paws with Her Majesty. If he'd got within
a hundred yards of her, the rabbit would have had to be
searched.)  Rincón, I call him: the shop is called Menuto
Rincón, half-Spanish, half-Aragonese, and from that he takes his
name. He has a manic look in his eyes and his ears flap when I
wave him at the passing children. My little finger fits inside
his paw and when I wiggle it, he waves too. He waves at kids,
adults, policemen: anybody passing the shop, anybody who passed
the hut during the boo