Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Direct mail catalogs are the rabbits of the advertising world. It only takes one, two at most, showing up in your mailbox before they begin to proliferate exponentially. They are also as difficult to get rid of as the real thing, and I am constantly looking for ways to reduce both animals from my home.

It’s not that I have anything against catalogue rabbits or the furry kind. I’ve even read Peter Cottontail and The Velveteen Rabbit more than once. But too much of a good thing is too much.

My poor mailperson could probably sue me for back injury by the time the December holiday season passes. By then he or she — I’m not sure which — must have delivered (I use this in the “assisting at birth” sense?) on average a dozen catalogs a day since before Thanksgiving.

As for the real cottontails, they have become an annoyance for eating my roses and my coleus. I’m all for sharing what I have, but I want my flowers to be respected as things of beauty and not as a power lunch.

There is a sticky substance you can spray on flowers which the rabbits dislke, and it works quite well. Perhaps someone will eventually invent such a substance to spray on mailbox interiors to keep unwanted catalogs away. But until then, the balance of nature is regularly under siege.