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After a drought of several years, Typhoon almost snagged a rabbit, all because of a lack of light and a surprise poopy. Another rabbit close encounter by our Little Prince.
That’s crystal clear, right?
No? Okay, so let us explain. To do that, we need to explain a few details.
Typhoon, the Mighty Rabbit Hunter
When Typhoon first arrived at Chez Herd almost eleven years ago, we discovered he was an amazing athlete. Standing still, he had a vertical leap of over seven feet. Seriously. Check out this photo as he “patiently waited” for the kitchen door to open.
More important to this story, he was fleet of foot. Or maybe that was peppy of paw. Not only was he a fast runner, but he could stop, pivot, twist, and turn quicker than an NBA player. Or a rabbit.
Time after time, he’d spy a rabbit in the yard. Stealthily, he would sneak as close as possible before the bunny realized the lurking threat. At the first hint of a rabbit rabbiting, the race was on. No matter how fast the wild creature ran, how many turns and darts he attempted, the cagey canine was faster. Many a rabbit hopped its last in such a pursuit.
To protect the rabbit population, Hu-Dad implemented new protocols—a complete yard search for hiding hares. At night, the task was challenging, so Hu-Dad invested in the brightest spotlight he could find. It worked wonders. On the first night, Hu-Dad shined the spot directly on a cowering rabbit. Typhoon offered his thanks and took off like a rocket.
From that point forward, Hu-Dad searched before releasing the executioner. He would locate the rabbits, escort them outside the fence to the relative safety of the open field. Only coyotes, fox, and birds of prey lurked there. Much safer than Typhoon. Once the task was done, he would turn back to the house and release a sulking Little Prince.
Even with all this effort, sometimes a well-hidden rabbit escaped detection. At least, escape detection by the Hu-Dad. Typhoon still found them.
With Typhoon’s love of a bunny buffet, you might think he was a hungry hound. But that’s not true. The hunt was merely sport for him. His digestive system doesn’t handle rabbit well. Or, frankly, any other food. We’ve battled his digestive health his whole life.
After years of tests and treatments, he’s now on a strict diet and pharmaceutical routine that doesn’t include rabbit in any form—not that it was ever a human-approved menu item. We—more or less—keep him at the best weight possible on his skinny frame.
Despite those efforts, his digestive system is still a canine disaster. One unfortunate side effect is the surprise poopy.
The last time we mentioned this topic, it surprised us to discover how common the problem is. Our first experience was Miss Kiska, our Chief of Security for many years. During her sleep, she’d sometimes lay a smelly egg.
Well, egg doesn’t quite describe it. Log. Pile. Mound. And, yes, she’d sleep through the production process.
The humans weren’t so lucky. Miss Kiska’s output had a distinct aroma, best described as the scent of tear gas combined with a landfill. When a Kiska surprise poopy occurred, the National Weather Service issued air quality warnings. The Environmental Protection Agency would investigate for hazardous waste disposal.
The humans, with watering eyes and choking lungs, would wake poor Kiska, help her outside, fumigate the room, and clear the debris.
Fortunately, Typhoon is a Little Prince. As he would proudly tell you, his poop doesn’t stink (yeah, we cleaned that up to maintain our family friendly rating).
As an added bonus, because of his overly small digestive track, he lays nuggets, not mountains. Tiny, hidden nuggets that the nose can’t easily detect. Unfortunately, the most common method of discovering those little treasures involves bare feet. For some odd reason, this doesn’t rank high on the human satisfaction scale.
In self defense, Hu-Dad has become quite skilled at spotting the pre-nugget-production look. If caught in time, Hu-Dad deposits a protesting Typhoon outside to make his deposits.
And, finally, our tale
With our overly long introduction and background, we’re now ready to explain the other night.
Hu-Dad, relaxing in his reading chair, realized something was amiss. He sounded the imminent surprise poopy warning, which awakened a sleeping Little Prince. Typhoon grumbled, but recognized the signs that his bombardier door was opening and preparing to unload its ordnance. He jumped to his paws and raced for the door.
We would love to report that this was an uneventful evacuation, but then there wouldn’t be much of a story. Because Hu-Dad was reading, he was a bit slow in sounding the alert system. As Typhoon raced for the exit, the first putrid pellets popped. A premature exit, if you will.
Racing after Typhoon in that moment was akin to a World War II ace fighter pilot pursuing a bomber whose tail gunner is defending the plane. Or, perhaps, a navy warship dropping depth charges to fend off a pursuer. However you wish to describe it, the effect was Hu-Dad zigging and zagging to avoid fresh landmines peppered about. He was busy avoiding disaster and making mental notes of their locations for later retrieval. His primary interest, though, was getting the productive Prince outside. He didn’t hesitate to throw open the back door since Typhoon’s back door was already open.
Hu-Dad loves to score a surprise twist late in his stories, but we don’t think it will shock anyone that a rabbit was quietly munching on our grass in the backyard. Nor would it surprise you that Typhoon spied his target before the Hu-Dad did. The Hu-Dad had left his ultra-bright flashlight inside the house.
There is a surprise, though. We discovered the cure for surprise poopy. At the mere sight of his prey, Typhoon clamped shut his export function. He shifted into turbo mode and raced toward the hapless rabbit.
Bunny Butt Bounce
One last little detail. The slats on our fence are spaced slightly wider than a rabbit’s head and shoulders. Unfortunately, our well-nourished bunny’s butts are slightly wider than the gaps in our fence.
When the Hu-Dad searches the yard before Typhoon’s entrance, he will suggest all rabbits leave. They have the time to search for the widest gap. That slower speed and wider exit allows for a soft “bump bump” of bunny butt tapping the sides.
With a canine on his fluffy tail, however, that rabbit hit the gap at full speed. Fortunately, he had enough momentum to pull his bulging butt through the slats. At that speed, the sound was more of a WHAP WHAP.
Typhoon, in hot pursuit, saw his prey slip through the gap just slightly ahead of his snapping teeth, but lacked the braking power needed to avoid the fence. He came to an abrupt stop with his head slapped against the fence as he peered at his disappearing foe.
Hu-Dad couldn’t see any of this. He could only hear it. First a bunny butt—WHAP WHAP—followed by a Typhoon head—SLAP—and then a frustrated WOO. That would be WHAP WHAP SLAP WOO. When Hu-Dad could finally see, he spied a disappointed canine with an empty mouth.
They spent a few more minutes in the yard. Unproductive minutes because Typhoon determined his original urge no longer needed to be met. Leaving the house expelled the pressure. Or, at least, the pre-exit exit did.
When they returned inside, Hu-Dad sat about picking up trail markers that would have made Hansel and Gretel proud.
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