We bought this 5 star rabbit hutch for only $50 at a garage sale. It was in perfect condition, and as a freebie, they threw a rabbit in as well, a little too eagerly I thought.
Dave organised the pick up and I asked him to be careful as I didn’t want the hutch to end up like the mirror I bought. He said, ‘Babe relax, stop panicking.’
So he and his mate Pelo collected the hutch facing it forwards on the back of the ute with Bugsy the rabbit sitting inside.
One thing the boys overlooked was Newton’s third law: if object A exerts a force on object B, then object B must exert a force of equal magnitude and opposite direction back on object A.
Loosely, in layman’s terms, Pelo driving at full throttle forced air over the ute and this combination resulted in a wind that ripped the hutch roof clean off its hinges and sent it cartwheeling down the road.
No need to go into what was said when I found out.
Pelo reattached the roof then left. We soon discovered our cute, big eyed, tiny rabbit loved biting, like some type of vampire rabbit smuggled in from Transylvania.
I now realised the garage sale people were ecstatic not eager. Bugsy bit everyone hard, causing blood, tears and trauma. My kids stopped going near him, friends suggested setting him free at the beach with the other million rabbits and the vet quoted me for the deep sleep injection. I couldn’t do either.
But Dave had had enough. One night he smuggled Bugsy down the road and tossed him over the hedge into farmland.
A week later, driving home with my kids I pointed to the electrical pole near the hedge and said, ‘That’s where Dave said he released Bugsy.’
Curran said, ‘The pole where that rabbit is standing?’
I veered off the road, slammed on the brakes and all four of us peered over.
It was Bugsy, watching and waiting, hoping his family would find him.
I said to Curran, ‘Oh for god sakes just go and get him, he’s coming home.’
We then drove off with Bugsy sitting up the front riding shotgun, and looking mighty pleased.
Dave came home, saw the hutch with Bugsy smiling at him (and probably giving him the finger) and for someone who’s normally quite articulate Dave could only manage, ‘What the…Is that…How did…?’
I said, ‘Don’t ask.’