In Which I Am Viciously Attacked by a Rabbit
Thanks to my downstairs neighbors who think it’s absolutely no big deal whatsover to leave their nasty trash out on the back porch for five endless days (every. time.), a duo of idiot squirrels have taken up residence on MY back porch for what I am sure they’ve dubbed “Operation: Delicious Trash.” And they are not afraid of me. Nor are they afraid of my giant dog. They’re so close when I open my back door that I actually shiver, imagining what it would be like if one of them, I don’t know, crawled up my pant leg or something. I don’t know why a squirrel would think that’s the ideal form of attack like “Chip, I think the smartest way to get to her delicious flesh is through her flared pantleg” but there is no LOGIC when you’re a foot away from a rodent, ok? These are the things you immediately think about.
Also, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but Chicago’s neighborhoods are filled with rabbits. I’ve lived in other cities and I had never found roaming gangs of Peter Rabbit before I moved to Chicago. In DC, we had black squirrels but that’s as exotic as it got. Here, we’ll be walking along and suddenly Charlie Bagel will get tense beside me. He has no interest in squirrels but, for some reason, is determined to murder these rabbits. I think it might be a remnant of his Kentucky upbringing. And suddenly, a little bunny will hop out of a garden and onto a sidewalk. Charlie will try to kill it. I will reenact key scenes from Watership Down. And so on and so on.
Except. The other night, I was taking the dog out for our evening constitutional. He was on his leash. I had the hiccups and was annoyed that I had the hiccups. We were walking through the backyard, heading for the gate. Suddenly, the closed gate in view, Charlie froze. In between us and the gate was a rabbit. On our left, the wall of the garage. On the right, a fence.
The three of us stood there, at an impasse and then suddenly, everything happened really fast. Charlie lunged, the rabbit, THE RABBIT LEAPT UP INTO THE AIR AND INTO MY CHEST BOUNCED OFF MY CHEST MY CHEST YOU GUYS IT JUMPED UP AND HIT ME IN THE CHEST and took off running through the backyard.
To say that I screamed… no. There was no scream. It probably sounded like I was drowning in milk and suddenly just realized “Holy shit, I’m drowning in milk, someone HELP ME HOW DID I GET SUBMERGED IN MILK.” There was a kind of desperate, mangled gurgling that emerged from the depth of my body, that’s the best way to describe it. Charlie, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed but that was probably because, from his view, the giant rabbit beast suddenly took flight up and up and over his head and was never seen or heard from again so let’s go walk and then get treats, ok? Unlike some people in the backyard, he did not go to second base with Thumper and was thus unperturbed by the incident.
Meanwhile, can I just say? Immediately after the horror, I hiccupped. So much for that theory of getting scared and losing your hiccups. I’m standing there, checking my pants to see if I had wet myself and then I hiccup- like that small 1% of my body was completely unaffected by the trauma, thank you very much. It felt like my own body had betrayed me. What bullshit. At least cure me of the hiccups, Death Rabbit GOD.
Entry filed under: Random Bits.