Buttons, my darling, savage bunny, was gone. Scared to death (which may actually be one of the reasons I hate horror movies). Over time I missed her less and less. Our family dog, Belle, became my new focus.
Belle was the perfect pet. A cross between a toy and a miniature poodle, Belle was even more of a people pet than the dearly departed Snuggles, and she was far more fun than any rabbit. She was, as is the case with most family dogs, more of a family member than a pet. And as an added bonus I was able to love her without the fear of being torn apart by human hating claws.
Now, Buttons had been dead for several years when my father’s 50th Birthday hit us, and though I had gotten over most of my grief I still hated raccoons with a passion. One of their brethren had taken away something I loved and, despite years of Cathechism, I wasn’t too keen on forgiveness.
For my Dad’s 50th we had a large house party with his few work friends and many of my Mom’s friends (to make it look like my Dad liked more people). It was a really fun time! Drinks were had, food was eaten, there was even dancing. And, of course this large gathering became in my 13 year old mind a great time to preach my hatred of raccoons to see if I could bring more people over to support the “Banning of Nature’s Bandits”.
It was going splendidly. The adults were all drunk enough to find my story endearing and they “awed” and gasped at all the right parts. The death of my beloved bunny almost brought the room to tears. At least, it definitely brought my Dad to tears.
Unfortunately his were tears of laughter.
Yup. As I poured my heart out to the guests about Button’s untimely demise, my Dad was laughing so hard he was literally crying. His face was bright red, and he had to lean forward in his chair. I still to this day have never seen my Dad laugh that hard.
“What” I demanded “is wrong with you!”
He tried (unsuccessfully) to stop laughing, I’ll at least give him credit for that, but the room was now his. “It wasn’t a raccoon that killed that damn rabbit” he was choking on laughter now, smiling from ear to ear. “It was Belle!”
I still remember it so vividly, the horror and shock that overcame me as I found out the truth. I was shaking my head in denial, trying to make sense of my Dad’s words. “Belle went outside and next thing I know BOOM! Buttons exploded!” The guests were laughing now too, my Dad’s descriptions were so colourful, peppered with such gems as “Have you ever heard a bunny scream?” and “It saved me from turning the evil thing into soup”.
I was absolutely horrified and devastated. My precious (evil) bunny was murdered by my best friend, my dog.
My Dad’s reasoning behind the raccoon story was that he didn’t want me to hate Belle.
My reasoning behind the raccoon story? My dad’s a bunny hating liar.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should defend both my Dog and my Dad here. In Belle’s defense, apparently rabbits are very easy to kill. They get so scared their hearts stop and make an explodey sound and then they basically become paralyzed.
In my Dad’s defense, Buttons really was a nasty animal. The worst pet imaginable. Vicious and brutal, albeit cute from a distance. She definitely had more blood lust than is normal for a bunny.