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This is a question When Animals Attack

I once witnessed my best friend savaged near to death by a flock of rampant killer sheep.

It's a kill-or-be-killed world out there and poor Steve Irwin never made it back alive. Tell us your tales of survival.

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:45)
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am i too late?
just thought of one. No puns. Just sheer human and rabbit tragedy.

We got rabbits when i was 10. Smokey, and his sister Spot. 1 Month later - 7 incestuous little baby rabbits. Tiny little bundles of grey skin and eyelids. Beautiful and fragile little things. We watched them for for the first few weeks, and fended off their parents/auntie rabbit attacks to keep their little mutant children warm.

One day I awoke, it was summer, and the school holidays were entering their glorious 147th week, and hundreds more weeks lay stretched ahead (well thats what it felt like). The sun was already burning though my Smash Hits curtains. Nothing could go wrong. I flung open the curtains and looked around, half hoping for Vicky the girl who lived at the back to be getting dressed (I cannot describe how good that was) but something wasnt right. From my window I could see into about 8 or 9 other gardens. It was a nice part of the world, lots of greenhouses, trees, sheds, grass, patios, garden furniture over a quite a wide area.

All dripping with blood. And bits of tiny baby rabbits.

All torn apart, scattered far and wide. It was like an explosion in an abbatoir. *

Twas local cats what did it. Some of them were still prowling about licking up scraps and looking very pleased with themselves.

The parents survived. You havent seen heartbreak until you've looked into the panicked eyes of a big bluegrey rabbit staring up at you.

We didnt keep them for long after that, we couldnt go through it again. They went off to the farm. **


* I was 10, it probably wasnt that bad, but bad enough to see everywhere from my bedroom window.

** true story. I suddenly realised 20 years later that they never went to the farm at all - it was a parental metaphor for "dead". I suffered some trauma as a result of figuring that out. Until about 6 months ago I told my parents that I "figured out they never really went to a farm" and "thankyou for not telling me they were dead" when it turns out, they really did go to the farm.
(, Thu 1 May 2008, 14:41, Reply)

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