The Day I Caved to a Panhandler

Harvard Square has quite the growing population of homeless people. Now, there's a whole social-political conversation to be had about the whys, hows, and what to do about it, but that's not why I'm here.  There is really something far more interesting than the quantity of homeless people in that particular space.

Now, I've been walking through that area for over five years and there have always been two constants: two men who panhandle independently, in their own designated areas in a simple, but typical way.  One of the men is very polite in his request for change and will wish you a good day regardless of your response (to give or not to give).  The other man is equally unobtrusive and saves his schtick for the holidays when he'll belt out Christmas carols to the passersby.

But the spring and summer bring out what I like to call the Creatives.  These are people who have developed a personae, a talent or a gimmick they think will convince the tourists and the commuters to spare some change.  There's the people with their dogs, usually a pit bull mix of some kind (who I'm always impressed with how well trained and well behaved the dogs are--much moreso than the people).  There's the woman with her plastic tote full of supplies so she can busy herself with cross-stitch all day.  The one-man band.  The artist.  The handful of young twenty-somethings with ironic handwritten signs that make me wonder if they are actually hipster Harvard students (or drop-outs) doing their own social experiment about what it's like to be homeless or to ask strangers for change because while they panhandle, they just don't "look" homeless.  (Judgy?  Yes, but it's an odd group amongst the others who are clearly having hard times.)

But the other day, I noticed a new couple on my way into work.  They had placed their belongings up against the building, but were seated across the sidewalk on a bench.  I barely noticed them until I saw a little fluffy thing next to their packs and bags.  I did a double take before I realized that it was a bunny, no bigger than a kitten.  He was facing the wall, like he was in time out, but I certainly was confused by the sight of him in general.  I kept walking, but overall, it just exited my mind as I went about my day.

Until yesterday.  I was walking through in the afternoon, on my way to the train station, when I saw the couple again, siting on a different bench.  This time their belongings were closer to them, but they had a milk crate set up almost in the walking path on the sidewalk.  The crate was tilted on it side, with a little dish of water and rabbit food (Dave and I used to have a hamster and this food was definitely the mix of seeds and bits you could get at a pet store for general pocket pets).  The little bunny was on a leash and harness(seriously, I couldn't make this up) and was manning (bunnying?) his post with a handwritten cardboard sign that read, "Homeless Bunny Seeking Human Kindness" upon which sat the requisite paper cup for change.

I'm going to pause to let that sink in because I couldn't take a picture.

Not due to a lack of camera, but because of what I did next.

But first, let's talk about this bunny.  This wasn't your typical brown field bunny that we have running around campus.  This was actually a pet bunny that you might find at a pet store.  He was fluffy and tiny and looked so soft that you'd just want to snuggle him.  He was strawberry blonde (okay, more strawberry than blond) and the fur around his face and ears was all fluffed up and wild, like a little ewok.  If ewoks were bunnies.

Now, I'm a generally healthy eater and typically take fresh cut veggies to work to munch on during the day.  That day I had a bag of baby carrots, but didn't finish them.  When I packed up my bag to go home, I tossed the zip-top bag into my backpack, thinking I'd nibble on the train.  And then I saw this bunny and his sign.  Between the fluffy face and the sign (who knew bunnies had such good penmanship), I was done.

And for the first time in five years, I donated to a panhandler.

I reached into my backpack, pulled out the little zip top bag containing 4 baby carrots and placed them in his food bowl.

Then I walked away because I didn't want to hear the cursing from the couple.  Although I did manage to catch a few tittering giggles from others walking through the area.  What can I say, I rescue animals.