Easter Bunny memories

When I was seven-years old the Easter Bunny brought my brother and me our very own bunny for Easter. We were ecstatic and took right to him. We named him Floppsy Mopsy Cotton Tail; why not get all the good bunny names into one, right? We put diapers on it so it would stop pooping on the floor. We even tried to breed it with our Guinea Pig. You know, to make a Guinea-bunny.

But, the following story is what I remember most about our sweet little bunny. It was the middle of the summer and all the neighborhood kids were gathered playing kick ball in my best friend Julie’s back yard. I was running late and the game had already started but it didn’t matter, I had to stop by to see Floppsy Moppsy Cotton Tail.

When I got to his cage, I saw Julie’s miniature Dachshund, Poppy, in the cage with him. Not only was she in the cage with my bunny, but she had taken him down and viciously ripped his throat out. And as she sat there looking at me, licking her chops, I screamed hysterically.

Oooooooohhhhh sweet childhood memories

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