“Mum something’s wrong with the rabbit. He’s not moving”
Anti Social Dick! What’s the point of having a pet when it won’t let you pet or play with it?
“He’s probably not feeling friendly today” I lie.
“No Mum, somethings wrong. Look at him he’s all limp”
My eye’s leave the newspaper and look up at Big Son with dead looking bunny in his hands.
“See he’s floppy” Big Son does the mexican wave with the bunny’s lifeless corpse.
Shit! Selfish little bastards gone and died on us. Oh that’s just fucking great! Now I’m gonna have to have the whole death talk.
Drama Queen Daughter starts screaming the house down and wailing like a bereaved widow: “Oh no…oh no…it’s dead!”
Alright girl…keep a lid on it…you were moaning about how un-cute and anti-social he was yesterday and now your distraught?
I take Bunny from Big Son and can feel that even with a fur coat on this rabbit’s cold.
“He’s wearing lipstick” Little Son announces.
Or eaten too many blueberries…Bunnies lips and nose are blue. What to do…what to do?
“On Casualty they would massage his heart and breath into his mouth” Big Son informs me. “Start compressions!”
I am struck by a moment of pride, Ah…he might grow up to be a doctor! Not the lay about surfer that he has expressed an interest in becoming.
“Do it then mum…start compressions!”
“In case you haven’t noticed, HE’S NOT HUMAN!” I shout.
Unexpectedly Bunny moves his leg…he’s responding to my voice. Probably thinking…Uh Oh! It’s that crazy bitch! Anyway, it’s a good sign.
“Everyone get in the car…he’s alive…we gotta get him to the vets”
We pile into the car, Big Son…crying, Little Son…crying, Drama Queen…crying and holding half dead bunny and me…furious that the little fur ball is fucking up my weekend. I’m driving like fucking Starsky and Hutch when Drama Queen Daughter screams:
“He’s stopped breathing again”
I honk the horn at the inconsiderate individual in front. Fuck the speed limit! Don’t you know that I’ve got an emergency situation going on…bunny is going into d-fib…or whatever the medical term is.
“Your going to have to do mouth to mouth” Big Son tells his sister.
“No, don’t do that” I warn…he could be contagious! Does Drama Queen Daughter listen to her mother? Does she fuck! I look in the rear view mirror and see her shooting big breaths down the bunnies nostrils and mouth.
“Stop that right now. He licks his own bum!”
Mouth to Mouth stops instantly and Drama Queen Daughter begins to rub her lips and tongue frantically, as well as crying with greater vigor.
We get to the vets and he tells us he will have to run some tests. It’s a Sunday…emergency service so it’s gonna cost.
“Oh really! How much?” I ask. What? I don’t want to spend much if he’s gonna die anyway.
“MUM!” My three offspring chime, shaming me into producing my credit card and telling the vet to do what is necessary to save him.
The next day the vet phones to say that Bunny has made a full recovery, but that he thinks a heart attack was the cause. Oh and the bill is £125 in total!
WTF! It doesn’t cost that much when I bring my dog in and this thing is a 100th of the size! I could have a weekend in a spa for £125.
Anyway we get bunny home and he seems right as rain. It’s pissing on the floor, jumping up and biting and eating any wire in sight.
The furry fucker was obviously faking it! Sneaky bastard! It was all some weird twisted plot to cost me money! Fucking thing!
How long do rabbits live again?
Bunny Good Deed