The Running of the Bulls is scary fun, but there is one challenge that is beyond terrifying.  Participants sit on the ground in front of a door that will be opened to admit a charging bull into the ring.  That’s what it was like at my patio door at 8 am this morning.

Well, not exactly like that, but analogous.  Sparky was the bull and a rabbit was the Spaniard.

I discussed how Spaniards don’t worry about what could happen, in a previous post, but didn’t describe this part of running the bulls, because I didn’t take a photo.  Messing with a camera would have been a distraction.

I was there 35 years ago, so the challenge may have changed.  Google didn’t provide a photo that corresponded with what I saw, but the photo at the top covers the essentials.  Here is an illustration of the challenge as I saw it.

After the running of the bulls, people and bulls mix it up in the arena.  Occasionally, a new bull is introduced into the ring.  Participants sit on the ground in front of the gate through which the bull will emerge.  They sit cross-legged and interlock their arms.  It was more people than shown in the photo, and they were configured in a wedge formation.

The gate is opened and a bull comes charging out.  People duck because the bull doesn’t really want to hurt anyone and will jump.

The bull lands in the middle of the crowd, stumbles around to get it’s footing, then charges farther into the ring.  The landing and stumbling around part is where someone could get hurt.

To be clear, I didn’t participate in this challenge.  My Spanish friends could not explain why anyone would do this.  They were regular Spaniards, so were only familiar with regular stuff in the way that an American might be familiar with fireworks on the 4th of July, but be unclear why someone would mess around with M-80’s.

Those are the thoughts that came to mind during this morning’s events with Sparky.

I slept well, but woke up rough.  Doesn’t matter, I still had an obligation to Sparky.  I clipped on his leash, looked up, and there was a rabbit just five feet off of the porch.

The rabbits have been prolific this year, so Sparky has been doing yeoman’s work in keeping them down.  Every day, he has four or five rabbit encounters.  Sparky knows the rabbits and they know him.

This rabbit has the heart of a Spaniard, and was there to demonstrate his courage. 

What could I do?  I opened the door, and gave him the command.  “Rabbit!  Chase!” 

Fortunately, this time Sparky was looking in the right direction when I told him to chase, and he didn’t just run to the shed.  He chased the rabbit for 40 yards, until it ducked into the brush.  He went in, but never saw it again.  That’s okay, it’s about the thrill of the chase.

Sparky was excited, and ran around trying to pick up the trail.  I know enough to let Sparky run around until he takes an adrenaline shit, then it’s safe to bring him in.

While Sparky was in the dense brush, I had time to put on my shoes, get my coffee and reminisce about the Spaniards and their foolhardy tradition of demonstrating their courage.