I’m sure you are all familiar with cock fights, and dog fights. They are illegal, so people don’t really know much about when or where they take place.
An even more deeply kept secret is bunny fights. I am disabled now, but for twelve years I supplemented my budget by training killer bunnies.
My best fighter bunny was a lop ear named Jake The Destroyer.
I was training him one sunny spring day, and things were going pretty good. I lived in Missouri back then. I did not know the great weather was about to become violent. A storm front was squirming across three states, and tornadoes were popping up everywhere. My first clue was literally out of the blue.
I had just given Jake a carrot coin for a good workout, and a sudden hard gust hit. It had to be sixty mph. Cages began toppling and hail came thundering down like cannon balls. They were only about quarter size, but I was left blown and dented. It only lasted about ten minutes, but that was enough for me to be stunned and breathless. I didn’t notice the tumbled cages had sprung open until a dozen killer bunnies were converging on me.
An angora named Biter made the first leap at me.
I am alive to tell the story only because my guard dog, a rotweiller named Spunky was on the alert. He leapt, and caught Biter with his mouth in mid air. In five bloody minutes, all my killers, and my hard work, were gone. Bits of fur, gristle, and blood were everywhere. No bunny remained in less than two parts.
It was a very sad day. It was an expensive day. It was the day Spunky saved my life.