The One Time a Rabbit Tried to Kill Me

Hello, I’ve returned.

It took me awhile to think of what I wanted to do with this Monday post.  I have been bouncing around the idea of posting installments of a short story instead of this spontaneous, random stuff that I’ve been doing lately.  However, instead, for today, I thought I would recount my best party story.

This is the story of the time a bunny tried to kill me.

It happened a couple years ago actually, so I’ve gotten over the initial shock and instead settled into a general acceptance.

It was during spring, when my mother noticed there was a rabbit in the yard that looked like a house bunny.  Now, mind you, my house, though it is technically within the city limits of my hometown, actually has quite a lot of wildlife.  This morning my dog woke me up to alert me to the presence of a groundhog eating the flowers, and yesterday she barked at a red fox for ten minutes.  Not to mention the squirrels, birds, and that random coyote.

Remember the coyote.

Anyhoo, back on topic.  There was a (possibly) tame rabbit living in my backyard!  My mom and I picked up some carrots when we were at the store, and we kept them in the fridge where we could easily grab on and run outside.

A few days later, when I saw the rabbit again, I snagged one of those jumbo carrots and ran outside.  The bundle of reddish-brown fur stared at me calmly as I approached it.  When I held out the carrot towards it, it hopped closer to me.  I ended up setting the vegetable on the ground.  Yet, after the next few times of feeding nature, I learned that it would eat the carrot while I held it.

I felt like a Disney princess interacting with nature like this.

One thing to keep in mind … that was bad.

I even went as far as to name the rabbit.  I called it Peter, but now that I think about it, I’m sure it was my mother that proposed the name.

Well, one day, I didn’t find Peter in my yard.  It was extra unusual, because I had been giving the rabbit a carrot a day.  It occurred to me that I had seen another rabbit with Peter a few days before.  I assumed they had run away together.  Though disappointed, I tried to let the bunny go.

(Meanwhile, there has been sightings around my neighborhood and the apartment complex across the street, sightings of a coyote that looked like it had rabies.)

You know that cliche saying, the one about letting things go?  If it comes back, it’s yours to keep?  When I saw my precious rabbit again, I couldn’t believe it.  It had been a week–it was like the prodigal son had returned.  I remember vaguely yelling inside the house, “Nature has returned to me!”  I threw my backpack down (I had just returned from school), grabbed a carrot, and ran into my backyard.

I called out to the bunny, yelling the name my mother and I had given it.  Its little ears perked up, recognizing either me or the name, but more like the carrot in my hand.

It hopped towards me, but something was wrong … he wasn’t moving right.

I chose to ignore it.

Its dull eyes darted around as it nibbled the food I had brought.  As I stared at the bunny, I noticed there was a wound in its neck.  Peter had been attacked.  I put this up to a reason for his week long absence, and nothing more.

With a concerned shrug offered in the direction of where my mother stood on the deck watching me, I chose to ignore this too.

After about ten seconds of watching the rabbit bite at the carrot, I noticed a … growling.  I looked around for the coyote.  Nothing.

Since I couldn’t find a reasonable source for the growls, I ignored them.

Nature couldn’t have warned me more.

Did you know that rabbits could growl?  Because I didn’t.

The growling got louder.  I turned back to Peter, just to check on his progress on the carrot. And …

HE TRIED TO KILL ME!

The little rabbit wanted the whole carrot without having me hold it, and Peter–I kid you not–jumped up and tried to bite my hand with one last fierce growl.

I realized then that my bunny had contracted rabies, probably from that coyote.

I’d like to say that I responded in a dignified way.  Maybe by instigating a polite discourse with the rabbit on why it thought violence was an appropriate response.  Maybe even calmly walking into the house with the carrot in my hand.

Certainly not the response of jumping backwards with a shrieked yelp before chucking the carrot at the bunny, then running inside the house.

…No, not that.

My mother, ran inside the house with me after frantically making sure I hadn’t been injured.  I’m convinced she wanted me to get the rabies shot anyways.

That was the last day I saw Peter.  I didn’t look back through the window to see if the carrot was still being eaten.

Instead, I did my homework.  Then the next day, I complained to my friends about how a rabbit tried to kill me.

Remember kids, no matter how much you feel like a Disney princess, don’t feed nature.  Nature is greedy and it has rabies.

Thank you for reading the true tale of that one time a writer when outside. ❤

Okay, goodbye.

(I’ll have more poetry out on Thursday if you’re into that.)

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