We had a story this week in the paper about a "sport" called "open field coursing." It involves men with too much testosterone releasing their dogs in an open field so they can chase wild rabbits and rip them to shreds.
It was always my opinion that a sport should involve some kind of skill, as well as an element of competition. It seems to me that there is no skill involved, however, in telling your dog to attack a rabbit. Nor is it a very fair competition for the rabbit, who really has no chance unless it manages to arm itself with an AK 47 prior to the "game."
Participants of this "sport" try to sugar coat it by saying that it is about the chase, not the kill. Yet points are given to the owner of the dog that shows the most aggressiveness during the chase, and for the dog that actually turns the one-piece bunny into a bloody jig-saw puzzle.
The morons who "play" also argue that their dogs are only happy when they can chase rabbits in this manner and that without this sport their dogs "wouldn't really live." Of course, with this sport the rabbits don't really live either, do they? But maybe I'm being unsympathetic to all those depressed doggies out there who don't "play" and are forced to sit at home wishing they had Prozac to help them cope with their empty, bunny-free lives.
Finally, proponents of bunnycide argue that this is a much more humane way to "hunt" rabbits than using a gun, since a gun may leave the rabbits injured and suffering and having to collect disability for the rest of their lives. They have a point, as rabbits that are torn into little tiny pieces rarely live to reassemble themselves and talk about it on Oprah. But I still don't think said bunnies would think "gosh, I'm glad no one is shooting at me because this is much more humane" as they sprint for their lives, heart beating wildly from the terror, as dogs are urged by sweaty neanderthals to go Hannibal Lectar on their ass.
The fact that they are comparing this to hunting is also ridiculous, as the jigsaw bunny is in no condition to be eaten or used to make bunny slippers. My father was a hunter, and we grew up eating dear meat because it was a cheap way for us to avoid being vegetarians. Although I couldn't imagine shooting an animal (although, disturbingly, I can imagine shooting some people), I can understand hunting when it is done with respect and when the animal is actually put to use. I'm not a hypocrite after all. I know where my leather jacket came from. But this "sport" is not hunting. It is an act by stupid men who get their kicks from seeing blood.
But these "sportsmen" should watch their backs. Because I know that bunnies, as innocent and helpless as they are perceived, are a lot smarter than they look.
I had a friend who was a sheriff's deputy who told me this true story - a story that bunny-killers everywhere should take to heart:
A group of dumb asses who couldn't get laid and didn't have the brains to do anything productive drove out to the wilderness near Seattle one day with a bunch of illegal fireworks and some low-grade dynamite to "blow stuff up."
Midway into the afternoon they managed to see and trap a rabbit. They thought it would be much more interesting to blow up a rabbit as opposed to beer cans or tree stumps, as bunny parts can fly in so many directions. So they strapped some of the explosives to the bunny as a big, hilarious, dumb ass joke.
After lighting the dynamite they let the rabbit go to watch the show. The rabbit, knowing it was going to die, decided not to go empty-pawed and ran under the group's brand new, $45,000 SUV, blowing itself, and the SUV to Kingdom Come. According to some reports, you could hear the bunny laughing maniacally in the minutes before the catastrophe.
My friend the sheriff's deputy arrived on scene and had the pleasure of telling the group of rocket scientists that he doubted their auto insurance policy would cover such an "event" as exploding bunnies. I like to think that the owner of the SUV thinks about that bunny every time he writes the monthly check to pay for the SUV he will never use. And I like to think of that bunny still laughing as it looks down from bunny heaven, behind the wheel of that shiny new SUV.
It's karma - at its best.