Billy and Rabbits

Eh? Rabbed? What rabbed? Where is rabbed?

I recently got cooped up in a hospital for a week so I had plenty of time on my hands. To kill it usefully I decided to write up a couple of old stories about Billy.

This one happened about a couple of weeks after Billy's adoption – here we are talking roughly mid-September 2011. Back then we barely knew our new family pet and he was just as shy around us – his tail was tightly tucked in between his hind legs pretty much at all times and he never showed any emotions. His typical behaviour could be described as this: Food? Okay, thanks, I'll have some. Then I'll wash it down with some water, and will retire to my bed and out of the harm's way. Now, please, do not bother me and I'll pay you with the same. 

The only thing Billy never could resist and seemingly brightened up to is when we went for a walk. Still no tail wagging, just bobbing his head side to side in sync with his steps, but at least there were some signs of life.

That day we decided to take him for a walk in the Hollyrood park – went down the ravine and turned left up the Salisbury crags. Setting him off the leash back then was out of question, however no Cesar Millan's-style short leash was practised either. Although Billy never was really pulling on the leash – usually he was just bobbing by our side on the end of the slack lead.

In one book on Greyhounds there was a phrase that got stuck in my memory: “Greyhounds may seem lazy, but they are not a couch potato when it comes to opportunistic thieving”. That is what we found out about Billy – he lived to that characteristic. That seem to be his motto. One morning, Sveta puts Belgian chocolate waffles on the plate at the side of the dining table for Yegor 's breakfast and leaves the kitchen. I walk in right away, may be with a 10sec interval – Billy is already on the floor, amidst the crumbs, with one waffle nowhere to be seen.

No, he only seemed to be lethargic and indifferent – the wee agents in his head are constantly on the mission checking for an easy pilfer. And when the chance is on his side he bolts right for it as if there is no tomorrow!

Back then I obviously never suspected our gracious Billy of such foul disposition. As we were coming down the crags toward the Commonwealth Pool, euphoric with the new feeling of walking as a dog owner I lost my vigil and got brutally caught out. Billy pounced like a thunder flash and the next moment Sveta's sheik jolted me out of nirvana sending me crashing down to the Earth: “He just ate a dead rabbit, where are you looking at?” On the side of the road just a minute ago lied a semi-decomposed rabbit remnant. Fair enough, now it was sticking out of Billy's mouth. The cheeky bastard grabbed it by the head and was now trying to gobble it down without chewing. Sveta grabbed the mummy of the rabbit by the body and started pulling it out. Billy appeared to be clever enough to figure that a moment he changes his grip or opens his jaws to chew the rabbit will be bygone. So they were standing completely still for a few moments – Sveta pulling on the rabbit's body and Billy right in front of her, trying to swallow whatever was in his mouth with his jaws immobilised, in a frog's manner – pushing the rabbit down with his eyes.

That was the only time Billy played tug-of-war with us (so far, but we hope to turn that around). And that time he actually won - the half-mummified rabbit gave way and broke around the neck, leaving his head in Billy's mouth. Sveta however was quick this time again – she grabbed and started pulling by the rabbit's rotten ears. I was watching this game totally awe-struck, marvelling at Sveta's determination and courage at grabbing this rotten yaky flesh while not being afraid to confront a barely familiar animal over sacred for a dog subject – his food. Strangest of all, that scene did not have any soundtrack to it – just like a silent move. No growls, only hissing of heavy breathing on both sides, which made it almost surreal.

Surely enough, the ears gave way too – one by one. “Help!” -cried the brave dog rescuer - “Do something- QUICK, or he'll gobble it down!!!” That shook me of my numb and, suddenly oblivious of fear I lunged forward and grabbed both Billy's jaws with my two hands, like David Goliath's. Billy's teeth were serious sharp weapon, which he however did not even think of using. His jaws opened surprisingly easy – I met no resistance at all praying them open. At the moment I attributed it to his long jaws that gave me plenty of leverage. Or perhaps he suddenly lost interest in the rabbit or realised futility of his struggle. All of a sudden, Billy went all meek and malleable. Sveta stuck her hand down Billy's maw and fished out the disintegrating skull. We threw the torn rabbit bits far in the surrounding bushes just to be safe. We held our breath expecting retaliation but in vain - Billy looked just mildly disappointed, as if to say “Ah, well, I got nothing and so I lost nothing, in the end”.

I pulled the leash in shorter and we continued down the slope with Billy trudging along as if nothing happened.

Looking for rabbits from Salisbury Crags. Droooling...