If you go were-rabbit hunting to ease your anger
When asked at the funeral, your family tells people that you had gone out to hunt the legendary were-rabbit, only your hand gun in hand. They explain that you often spoke of how you once saw a were-rabbit as a child, a three-foot, part-man, part-bunny monster with red glowing eyes, and, that day, you just decided it was time to take one as a trophy. No one could stop you when you put your mind to something.
The police report said you must have searched for hours before you finally came across one, but alas, you were not quick enough for it. The forensics team found your empty gun a few feet from your body, and the patterns of bullet fire and blood splatters on the scene suggest that you missed every shot. It somehow got the jump on you and took out your entire throat, ripping out a big flat section of flesh, and so that was the end of you. It was all over very quickly and you did not suffer, the coroner said; but, privately, no one really thinks that, tho it is a good lie, preferable to having to imagine what the were-rabbits really did...