Apparently there are giant bunnies out there.
http://www.snopes.com/photos/animals/giantrabbit.asp
As someone who still bares the scars from being mauled by a bunny this knowledge fills me with horror.
I’ll tell you the story.
It was a sunny day in Sydney in the mid 1960’s. I was a cute wee lassy in a floral cotton dress. The pet shop at Roselands had an adorable fluffy bunny in a cage out the front. I turned my little hand on it’s side and slid it through the bars of the cage. To pat the bunny.
To offer the bunny affection and assurance and general positive affirmation. And the bunny thanked me by sinking its two huge rabbity front teeth into the knuckle of my pinky! And it didn’t let go.
All I could do was scream and cry and bleed. This did get people’s attention, but failed to frighten or detach the bunny. I was too young and too shocked to realise that I had to flatten and turn my hand again to get it out of the cage. You try lateral thinking games when a rabbit is bone grafting itself to your finger.
Eventually the bunny and the cage were removed from my fist. There may have been surgery and paramedics brandishing the Jaws of Life. Or maybe my mother just tapped on the cage and said, “Shoo”. I’m a little hazy on that part.
But I do remember testy words between my parents and the pet shop owner who insisted that there was a sign saying ‘Don’t pat the bunny (’cos it may have been crossed with a pitbull terrier)’. He refused to show any sympathy or contrition. And as I was bundled off to the car park with a hanky tightly wrapped around my gory little digit I looked back through teary eyes at the smug faces of the pet shop owner and his evil bunny.
