The Brown Dog
Someone said "bring on the freaky shit" and this story came immediately to mind, though it really lends itself more to the really sad and depressing shit, however, there was a lesson gleened from this incident.
When I was young, like 10 or 12, my family owned a short brown, cross-breed dog we called 'Brownie' because he was brown. He was a lab/dachshund mix with maybe even a bit of bassett in him. Brownie was the best dog ever. Loyal and protective of the house and all of us. He was allowed to roam the property freely as he would not chase children of passers by. He did however, love chasing cars and that would prove to be his undoing.
One Sunday morning, the family had prepared to go out to eat for lunch. We were all ready to go and my little sister was first to exit the front door. She exclaimed "Daddy, something's wrong with Brownie!" My father came out to survey the scene and then quickly motioned to me and my brother with one finger and maybe 3 words "Move the dog to the back yard and try not to upset your little sister when you do. Put him in the shade and cover him with something, we'll bury him later." Yes, he'd said all that with one finger and three mumbled words in spanish.
I noted that our dog had a tire track across his hind quarters. I also noted that there was a trail of blood and drag marks from the street to the spot where he had come to his final rest. I believe he had dragged himself there. He never made a sound for someone in the house would have heard him.
I don't know what dogs feel or if they feel pain as we do but this mere animal had surely suffered. I also wondered how he'd gotten under a tire like that, it must have been deliberate. People suck.
We arrived back at home after a somber lunch and my brother and I ran to the back of the house to bury the animal. We carried him the the area directly behind our fence adjacent to the alley. We dug a hole we thought was deep enough. It wasn't.
The very next day, we arrived home from school via that same alley way and were horrified to see 2 stray alley dogs digging up the fresh grave and devouring Brownie's leg and haunch. We threw rocks and chased them off then dug a deeper hole, perhaps 3 feet down. We placed the dog there and covered him up then gathered bricks and large discarded pieces of wood and I seem to recall part of an old tree stump to cover the new grave site. We were 10 or 12.
The lesson: trust no one, not even your own kind.
When I was young, like 10 or 12, my family owned a short brown, cross-breed dog we called 'Brownie' because he was brown. He was a lab/dachshund mix with maybe even a bit of bassett in him. Brownie was the best dog ever. Loyal and protective of the house and all of us. He was allowed to roam the property freely as he would not chase children of passers by. He did however, love chasing cars and that would prove to be his undoing.
One Sunday morning, the family had prepared to go out to eat for lunch. We were all ready to go and my little sister was first to exit the front door. She exclaimed "Daddy, something's wrong with Brownie!" My father came out to survey the scene and then quickly motioned to me and my brother with one finger and maybe 3 words "Move the dog to the back yard and try not to upset your little sister when you do. Put him in the shade and cover him with something, we'll bury him later." Yes, he'd said all that with one finger and three mumbled words in spanish.
I noted that our dog had a tire track across his hind quarters. I also noted that there was a trail of blood and drag marks from the street to the spot where he had come to his final rest. I believe he had dragged himself there. He never made a sound for someone in the house would have heard him.
I don't know what dogs feel or if they feel pain as we do but this mere animal had surely suffered. I also wondered how he'd gotten under a tire like that, it must have been deliberate. People suck.
We arrived back at home after a somber lunch and my brother and I ran to the back of the house to bury the animal. We carried him the the area directly behind our fence adjacent to the alley. We dug a hole we thought was deep enough. It wasn't.
The very next day, we arrived home from school via that same alley way and were horrified to see 2 stray alley dogs digging up the fresh grave and devouring Brownie's leg and haunch. We threw rocks and chased them off then dug a deeper hole, perhaps 3 feet down. We placed the dog there and covered him up then gathered bricks and large discarded pieces of wood and I seem to recall part of an old tree stump to cover the new grave site. We were 10 or 12.
The lesson: trust no one, not even your own kind.
posted by Robbb at 2:14 PM
3 Comments:
Damn, robbb, I said "freaky" as in deeky not depressing. Yes indeed my friend, people suck. Lesson well learned. Now entertain us! Oh, and you must have one of the shortest profiles in the whole bloggosphere. Simplicity itself.
jeesh....if anyone needs me I'll be turning the bath water red.
"red" as in wine? praise be... and yes, fool, I knew what you meant.
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