Writer's Workshop: It's only a mere bunny rabbit

This is a story about a bunny. This is a story about what happens if you don't give your bunny things to chew on. This is a story about a drive by pet dumping.

When my kids were very small, about 4, 2 and new, a car drove by our house and apparently threw out their pet rabbit.

Seriously? Who does that?

The girls were immediately smitten with the little black and white cutie. "Can we feed the wabbit?" they pleaded.

This clip from Monty Python and the search for the Holy Grail was playing in my mind.

Of course, that's not really going to happen. Is it?

We venture out and attempt to give our house guest a carrot. However, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot eat it.

Why?

Because his teeth are so freaking large he can't actually open his mouth wide enough to get a bite. I sort of felt bad for him, but I really didn't want my kids playing with him. I mean there must be something wrong with him.

After watching him struggle to eat the clover in my yard with the side of his mouth, I called our vet. She told me that it is a very common problem when domesticated rabbits aren't given the proper chews.

She said, "quick fix. Bring him in and I'll take care of it."
Me, "What will happen to him if they're not fixed?"
Vet, "He'll either starve to death or his teeth will just keep growing and will eventually puncture his skull."

That is just some kind of torture, right there.

We headed to the vet.

For their records I had to name the bunny, so the girls picked Lucky. "He is wucky we found him," said my two year old.

Wucky, indeed.

As further proof of his luck, I sold him to a little old lady along with a small dog kennel at our previously scheduled for the following weekend yard sale. Everyone kept pointing to him just grazing like a starving child in my yard. "Your bunny is loose," they'd say.

"Oh vats just Wucky," Middle G would say. "He's not our wabbit. We just chopped off his teef."