Cute, cuddly fighting rabbit

Our youngest children are riding the miniature train at the county fair several years ago, when my oldest ran up to me. “Where’s Mert?” he panted frantically.
I blinked. “I don’t know. I think he went in the exhibit building.”
“I need him to toss the ring around the duck’s neck so I can get a real live rabbit free. I tried six times, but I can’t do it. Tell him I’m down there.”
He pointed and ran that way.
The children’s ride was over. We ambled around looking for Mert and found my husband. “Mark wants Mert at a booth with rabbits.” He went looking for Mert.
Mert emerged from the exhibit ban just as Mark charged back down the fairway. “Mert! Come on. I need you to throw the ring around the duck’s neck. Then we can get a free rabbit.”
Little brother asked no questions. He followed big brother through the crowd, past the cotton candy, to the game where they gave away stuffed or real rabbits as prizes.
I saw immediately why he had to have a rabbit. They were lop-eared rabbits. Long, soft, fuzzy ears drooped mournfully around the reflective, rabbit faces. They looked warm, cuddly and pathetic. I wanted one, too. Mark shoved yet another ticket into the barker’s hands, took the rings and handed them expectantly into Mert’s hands.
Unruffled Mert looked at the calm pool of duck decoys. He aimed and dropped that ring over the duck’s head. It fell smoothly down the bird’s neck.
The barker called to the passing crowd. “Win a rabbit like this kid did with one throw. See what you can do.”
Several took up the challenge. Tickets changed into rings, the crowd pressed in, the decoys swirled in the wading pool. Rings bounced off the duck’s backs and heads, but none slid down the necks.
As Mark picked out a freckle-faced bunny. Mert tossed in the remaining rings. He aimed as carefully as he had the first time. Never made it past the beak. Game over.
As the man handed Mark the rabbit, its strong hind legs kicked him hard. A startled look spread over his face. He wanted that rabbit. It did not want him. It wiggled. It squirmed. It fought to escape his grasp.
I reached over to help him. One lucky rabbit’s foot gouged my arm.
My husband arrived and was drafted to carry the writhing rabbit. The harder it kicked and fought to escape the tighter his grip. Proud, excited, all eyes on our new, free rabbit, we headed for the car.
The last couple of tickets were passed to friends we met on the fairway. No one noticed that they had traded their last ride at the fair for a very angry rabbit.
No one noticed the angry scratch marks on their arms as we bought rabbit food and a water bottle and built a cage. We had that rabbit a couple of years. All four children petted and played with it, but it never became a cuddly bunny.
Interest waned. I advertised “rabbit with food and cage: free.”
A little boy, who wanted a free rabbit, made sure his dad drove over to claim it that day.
I hope it didn’t kick too much on the way home.