My family has many "legends" that we retell often from our childhood. I've decided that these stories need to be passed on. This first is the death of Casy's bunny.
I was young--I would guess about 4. Dad and mom had just built on to the house and my oldest sister (she loves when I call her that), Casy, got their old master bedroom with her own bathroom. At that time, I shared a large room with my older sister, Susan. Lisa was the baby so she had her own little nursery.
Casy and I fought all the time. We couldn't stand each other. Lisa and I were the same way when she got older. And even later, with so many years between them, Casy and Lisa also had this type of relationship. Susan, however, was the peacemaker. We all loved Susan. Anyway, Casy brought home a baby bunny. I have no idea who gave it to her or why. But I DO quite clearly remember her telling me to LEAVE IT ALONE! She made it clear that I was not even to go into her room. And then she was off...because eight-year-olds are very busy people.
But...four-year-olds are very curious people, and I had to see this cute little bunny. So, I went into her room. Now, she probably had it locked, but we had a metal comb with a handle that fit perfectly into her lock and also the bathroom lock for easy access. I can still picture that comb but I don't ever remember anybody using it on their hair. Goodness...a metal fine-toothed comb would rip your hair out! So I made my way into her room and then into her closet where she had tucked the bunny into a cardboard box with some grass (for comfort) and lettuce (for food).
He was so cute...just a tiny little guy. Things are a little fuzzy from here. Afterall, I was only 4. So, I'm going to stick to the facts. Casy got home and had what she refers to as a "Fatal Attraction" moment when she realized her bunny was missing and found her toilet overflowed. I don't know WHY I was immediately a suspect, but she got mom and they came to find me. When asked if I knew where the bunny was, I told them that the rabbit couldn't swim. (I've never been a very good liar.)
The assumption has always been that I was trying to teach the bunny to swim, and when he failed, I flushed him down. However, I believe that it is entirely possible that the bunny died of natural causes and I thought that a burial at sea (or the Hugoton Sewer Pond) would be totally acceptable...maybe even honorable. Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a little. Honestly, I don't remember the fate of the bunny. But, I do remember that Casy was devastated...and furious! And also that my mother had to dig a bunny carcass out of the sewer pipe. This did nothing for our already tenuous relationship.
This little story is very often thrown in my face at family events...minus the screaming and tears. Everyone now seems to think it's hilarious that I would flush a bunny--including my own children.
I was young--I would guess about 4. Dad and mom had just built on to the house and my oldest sister (she loves when I call her that), Casy, got their old master bedroom with her own bathroom. At that time, I shared a large room with my older sister, Susan. Lisa was the baby so she had her own little nursery.
Casy and I fought all the time. We couldn't stand each other. Lisa and I were the same way when she got older. And even later, with so many years between them, Casy and Lisa also had this type of relationship. Susan, however, was the peacemaker. We all loved Susan. Anyway, Casy brought home a baby bunny. I have no idea who gave it to her or why. But I DO quite clearly remember her telling me to LEAVE IT ALONE! She made it clear that I was not even to go into her room. And then she was off...because eight-year-olds are very busy people.
But...four-year-olds are very curious people, and I had to see this cute little bunny. So, I went into her room. Now, she probably had it locked, but we had a metal comb with a handle that fit perfectly into her lock and also the bathroom lock for easy access. I can still picture that comb but I don't ever remember anybody using it on their hair. Goodness...a metal fine-toothed comb would rip your hair out! So I made my way into her room and then into her closet where she had tucked the bunny into a cardboard box with some grass (for comfort) and lettuce (for food).
He was so cute...just a tiny little guy. Things are a little fuzzy from here. Afterall, I was only 4. So, I'm going to stick to the facts. Casy got home and had what she refers to as a "Fatal Attraction" moment when she realized her bunny was missing and found her toilet overflowed. I don't know WHY I was immediately a suspect, but she got mom and they came to find me. When asked if I knew where the bunny was, I told them that the rabbit couldn't swim. (I've never been a very good liar.)
The assumption has always been that I was trying to teach the bunny to swim, and when he failed, I flushed him down. However, I believe that it is entirely possible that the bunny died of natural causes and I thought that a burial at sea (or the Hugoton Sewer Pond) would be totally acceptable...maybe even honorable. Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a little. Honestly, I don't remember the fate of the bunny. But, I do remember that Casy was devastated...and furious! And also that my mother had to dig a bunny carcass out of the sewer pipe. This did nothing for our already tenuous relationship.
This little story is very often thrown in my face at family events...minus the screaming and tears. Everyone now seems to think it's hilarious that I would flush a bunny--including my own children.
Perhaps it is because I have heard the story several times but I laughed so hard reading this I had tears in my eyes. Makes me think of Hailey and Emma...I can so easily see Emma doing that to Hailey now. By the way, mom still has that old metal comb!
ReplyDeleteAnother thing I remember about this was dad asking mom what she did with it. She told him that it was in the trash. He was little angry about that. We had to dig it out of the trash and bury it. I think that was one of my first lessons of how much we should respect life. I’ve thought of that often, but don’t know that I’ve ever talked about it.
ReplyDelete