If he wasn’t paying for the injections, and was going with the humane society, which my dad would cut significant breaks for, he was maybe paying ten bucks, fifteen tops.
As a somewhat brighter story (OT, I know) from the humane society with my dad…
When I was a bit older, I worked at my dad’s place for about a year and a half (it convinced me I didn’t want to be a vet- I loved the work, loved the animals, but I couldn’t stand to see some of the pain and mis-treatment.). We started a deal with the local HS shelter- they’d give us one animal a month, we’d take care of it and try to find it a good home amongst our clients. One month it was a tiny grey kitten.
I was in the back cleaning cages when it mewed at me from it’s upper cage. I was having a bad day and was in a bad mood, and tried to ignore it, but it kept mewing. Finally, I reached up and scritched it on the nose. As I was about to bend down again to continue cleaning, its little paw shot out from between the bars and patted me on my nose.
I couldn’t help it. I grinned and said, “You’re far too cute. I must destroy you now.” It just looked at me and mewed again. If I’d had the ability to adopt it, I would have done so on the spot.
Ah well. I still support the humane society as much as humanly possible, and wince every year when I hear about ‘disposable’ bunny and duckie pets around easter. What. The. Hell.
I knew a guy in college who grew up in a quite poor family. His parents installed a very large rabbit hutch in the backyard, and had enough rabbits that when one…went somewhere…the kids wouldn’t notice.
He was in his teens before he figured out that his parents were lying when they said there were two different kinds of chicken.
How horrible! I want to be a vet (getting pre-vet college work done now) and I know that I will have to see things like this happening. Yuck. Our local humane society only charges $10 to adopt a rabbit, I hate to think of this kind of thing happening, but it probably does more often than I like to think.
I wanted to see Michael Moore’s Roger and Me after I saw Bowling for Columbine, but a good friend warned me about the rabbit killing scene. I just don’t understand how some people can make a living from killing animals daily, while others spend so much time and money to keep them alive and happy.
As for the rabbit bite story, oh yes, rabbits can be viscious little creatures if not treated right. They growl and box and bite when they feel offended or threatened.
Thanks for the bump heresiarch. Since the original post, I was able to do a rabbit display in the vet clinic that I work at for February’s Adopt a Rescued Rabbit month. Right now, I’m selling “Make Mine Chocolate” bunny pins for the House Rabbit Society. The point is to get people to buy chocolate bunnies instead of live ones. The pins come on this little card with info on how much work a rabbit is and how much they cost to take care of. I start a new job at another clinic tomorrow and I will continue my bunny crusade there.
Many many years ago I accepted ownership of a dwarf bunny while at a friend’s sweet sixteen party. I was quite drunk and when I woke up in the morning (we were all allowed to sleep over), there was bunny. I took him home, and knowing that my mother would go batshit if she knew I had brought home yet ANOTHER stray animal, I left it outside in the garage in the cardboard box and ran in the house.
“Mooo-om! Come look at what I caught outside!”
“What?”
“Come and look!”
Anyway she bought the story that I had caught it outside and I was allowed to keep it, at least until she found the rightful owner. She put up a few handwritten lost and found signs at the local community bulletin board. Of course, no one came forward.
We kept Jimmy Page (what I named him) in our backyard, in a large grassy area surrounded by chicken wire. We had a cat too (also brought home by moi) and the cat was terrified of Jimmy Page, for some reason. Mr. Page lived a long and happy life. I eventually confessed to my mom about the bullshit surrounding “catching” Jimmy Page about 16 years later.
On the other hand, my best friend in high school told me they also had a pet rabbit…and that her father made rabbit stew with it when the pet died. :eek:
My mom-in-law has told me that during the war, many families had rabbit hutches. And when they were full-grown, well… “The golden rule was, you always traded rabbits. While they were still alive, I mean.”
