Rambo edged next to Trix as closely as he could, then said, "Climb on, little man."

And Trix did.

Together the pair moved up the lane and into the big barn, then finally to the hay room gate.

"Here Trix, here's the gate."

Atop the great sheep's back, Trix trembled. "R-r-RAM-bo, that's a METAL g-gate. I can't b-bbb-bite through that. No. Just c-CAN'T. Take me home."

Rambo paused for what seemed to the timid rabbit to be about two months. The great sheep knew four things:

1) Teacher was in trouble, and time was running out

2) The gate was too heavy for Rambo himself to strike down with his impressive horns. It was too tall for the cows or horses or donkeys to jump, the ducks or geese to fly over, or the goats or sheep to climb. Indeed, of the twelve species of animals who lived at Catskill Animal Sanctuary, only one--the smallest of all--could save the day.

3) Digging a tunnel under the gate large enough for the horses and cows and pigs to walk through would be a big task for the tiny bunny, and he'd need lots of encouragement.

4) Succeeding at this task would be the greatest thing that could happen for Trix

"Trix," Rambo began, his voice subdued in order to soothe his friend. "Do you remember why you came here?"

Trix closed his eyes at the memory. "My fami..m-my fam...MYFAMILY didn't want me. I lived in a tiny cage, and my humans never t-talked to me. It was dirty. I was so l-l-l-LONE-ly."

"That's right," Rambo said, and then he encouraged Trix to talk about his life at the Sanctuary, where he had rabbit friends and human friends and a warm cozy barn and a big yard in which to hop and dig and sun.

"Trix, you are here because Teacher wanted to help you. She wanted to help all of us who live here, and she wants to help more animals who are as sad and lonely..."

"L-LET ME DOWN!!" came a booming (well, for a bunny) voice from atop Rambo's back. "Teacher needs help!"

Before Rambo had time to bend his arthritic knees, Trix was sailing through the air! In an instant dirt and hay were flying as the little bunny dug with his front feet, then kicked the loose dirt out and away with his powerful back legs...legs useful up until now only for hopping away from danger.

Dig, kick, dig, kick, dig, kick.

(Inside the feedbag behind a Mountain of Hay, Teacher was feeling faint. She couldn't get enough air. "Hurry, Trix," she thought as she strained to listen to his progress.)

Hay dust and dirt filled the barn as the little bunny butt disappeared into the deepening tunnel. Across the aisle, Ted paced nervously--the old horse liked a peaceful barn--then farted his disapproval. The rest of the animals, though, were curious: what was the commotion, and was the barn suddenly a Dust Bowl?

Four stalls down the aisle, Mufasa the Goat jumped up and placed his hooves on the ledge of his stall. "Hey Rambo, what's going on? We gettin' any food from this deal?"

(Mufasa during a calm daytime moment)

Trix was now well inside the earth, his body no longer visible. "Yes," Rambo nodded. "You're about to eat your way to heroism."

'I LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT!" Mufasa bleated, then smashed his great horns into the stall door for emphasis.

"Well then, help me make another sound," Rambo instructed.

"You mean chewing, right? You want me to make the sound of chewing because I'm about to get FOOD."

"No, Mufasa." How the food-crazed goat tried Rambo's patience!! "I need you and the herd to bleat, "Go Trix!"

"Yeah. Whatever," Mufasa snorted.

Rambo jumped up and rested his hooves on the stall wall so that he and Mufasa were eye to eye. "No, not 'yeah, whatever'." As I said, I need you and the rest of the goats to bleat 'Go Trix', starting now."

"GO TRIX!" bleated little PeeWee, hidden behind Mufasa's fat belly. ("Of course!!" Rambo realized. "Why didn't I choose PeeWee?")

"Go Trix!" joined in VanGoat, Socks, and Noodles. Behind him, Mufasa rolled his eyes and rhythmically bleated out, "Where's my food?"

After a couple warm-up rounds, the chickens, always eager for an opportunity to talk, joined in: "Go Trix! Go Trix! Go, go, go Trix!" they cackled.

As much as he loved his sleep, old Policeman, a 900-pound pig, was kind to the core. Awakened from reverie by the growing refrain, he figured Trix could use his help, too, so he snorted, "Go Trix," a little like a hoarse tuba.

The chant grew louder as all around the barnyard, the animals joined in. The donkeys brayed, the chickens cackled, the horses whinnied, and the pigs oinked:

"Go Trix, go Trix, go, go, go Trix!!"

With Mufasa chiming in, the chant became:

Go Trix, Go Trix, Go, GO, GO Trix!
(Want my FOOD)
Go Trix, Go Trix, Go, GO, GO Trix!
(Want my FOOD)
Go Trix, Go Trix, Go, GO, GO Trix!
(Want my FOOD)