the other woman

i strain to hear the voice of the dreamer in the din of this crowded cage. his words i once held in reverence. his chant: "do not be so persistent in your adoration of reality that your dreams become mired in jealousy."

Death Tax

the girl stabbed her mother's boyfriend after he attacked her and her brother for having vandalized his new truck. it was parked in their driveway because he'd spent the night with their mother again. odd, they thought, because mom was mad at him for stealing her credit card last week. the kids, 14 and 15 year old tori and drew, are very angry kids and their sense of judgment is a bit off center as you have gathered. i found this news only slightly disturbing because it was told to me over thanksgiving dinner today.

misery hates company

my employment is ending finally and i would like to say, i am relieved...i would like to say that but i can't. i am happy that the company I've worked for 9 years now is going under because i always thought it was a bit shady. retail as you know, causes much pain in my soul...more than it should (according to my therapist). but in this process i am finding much more to be (happy) about because i get to say things to people i never thought I'd get the chance to say.
during the liquidation process which began in earnest this past weekend, we no longer accept coupons, personal or business checks nor do we take credit card reward certificates. we no longer honor competitor prices and best of all, no longer accept returns!!! o joy and rapture
the money bitches that continue to come in day after day with bags full of returns, sweating in their velux jumpsuits clutching Gucci bags are amazed to find that we can say NO to their pitiful requests. "what am i supposed to do with this king sized bed ensemble (with all the trimmings) it just doesn't fit."
"give it to the maid?" i offered.
"sell it on ebay?" was another answer i gave today.

"why won't you take my check?" another biddy exclaimed.
"because NO ma'am" as i gathered all her selections and placed them in the returns to sales floor pile slowly accumulating in the corner of the checkout counter.

i am taking too much joy in turning people down when they ask for extra discounts. i am taking too much joy in rushing people to make a choice when they obviously are incapable of doing so..."do you want the dishes or not?!!! i have allot to do right now ma'am."
i am taking too much joy in cutting phone conversations abruptly off saying something like, "I'm sure we have a table cloth that might fit your 60 inch round mahogany dining room table that you inherited from your aunt in 1975 but you'll have to actually get in your car and drive here to look for it, i have no time. thank you for calling!"
yesterday we had a "guest" ask if we could call her when the discounts went to 50% or more because the prices are still too high.
"sure" i said in my driest unveiled tones, "write your name and phone number here...on my hand so i won't forget" she thought i was serious and actually reached for the pen. stupid tuna fish.

catharsis
therapeutic revenge

the bull god

Praise the bull god for he has finally defeated me. He is as mighty as a mountain and I am but a pebble. He is trully great...compared to me.

pome

there is a state of mind to which i have become accustomed and of which i am quite possesive. it is like
a dimly lit and warm log cabin. snow-covered. silent, save one sound: the crackling of the burning thing in the fire pit.

in there:
weeks without a soul
and the peace of god's ignorance.
i can even forget i have a voice.

a knock and open door bring in the bastard cold.
i remember you.
your laughter puts out fire.
less warmth. bright white light. chatter and pitter and patter.

the waked soul remembers too.
rattled and faded. punished and jaded.
now hovers over me, afraid.

-R.Fino

the will

what the devil

There we were, together again, all my demons and me.
Dancing about in my heart and head like it was 1999.
I tried to drown them with beer.
I tried to reason with them; cut a deal, right?
I tried to change my mind into an intricate maze where one or all might get lost.
I thought I could handle them alone but I was wrong.

This morning, the devil is sleeping in my bed.
I tip-toe around and try not to disturb him but he knows I'm awake.
He does not rise.
He does not move.
He is not worried that I might escape.

the feeling is mutual

The day began with a spasm as i awoke to the sight of a perfectly still and quiet digital clock on the table staring back at me with the look of a neglected child;
i had overslept.
One chill of a shower.
One swig of a diet coke to get the pills down,
and a one car race to the place i chain myself to for money, (yes i pole-dance at a strip club)
i still made it there with time to spare.

retail management at christmas: could there be a better place to be?
how about...in a trance, on fire, in the town square like a rebel monk?
at least people noticed him.
but 20 years of this? and i rush to get there. i speed to get there on time!!

oh despicable job, how i loathe thee, let me count the ways:
on the first day of this christmas, my patrons gave to me, toilets over-flowing and a 3 hundred dollar grab and run.
on the second day of christmas, i fucking quit, i'm not doing this again. how can i be doing this again?
every year i plan to leave and every year i don't, my friends accuse me i'm in love with it apparently.
i could go on but you've heard it all before because i've said it all before so i'll just get the the end of my day when i just couldn't take any more whining and bitching and yelling and fighting. my mind ached with desperation to find the cause of all this anger and pain, why can't i just quit?
as i left the store, my boss followed me outside and asked something along the lines of "are you okay? you seem annoyed."
my pace was slow but determined as i walked towards my car and i didn't even look at him when i responded. i said, "i'm going to my father's house and when i get there, kick him square in the balls for fucking my mother."

merry christmas, bitches.

The Nightmare

self analysis:

dual personality disorder
emotion software security compromised
control panel malfunction
access denied
prepare for reboot
prepare for reboot
prepare for reboot

if the sun were a weird tentacle creature thing

the new one

Daytimer

today, was i triumphant or was the advisary weak and ill-prepared? had he been sick or too well rested? was his mind on something other than defeating me?

the giant fell too quickly it seemed; i hadn't really even tried to kill him. all i really wanted at the start was a start, but to win?!

the hot flash that crept up my spine and onto my face lingered there too long. people began to notice and thought me boastful. they turned into an angry mob, and some of them got busy rebuilding the behemoth.

tomorrow then, he'll come again and this time, he will surely win for he'll have gobs of people marching with him. people who will weaken and distract me. people who will try and hold me down.

7th Day Reprise

practice too

practice

You Lying Sack of Boney Shit

...and other assorted put-downs.
Once upon a time, earlier today, there was a "lady" in my store picking out some draperies and whatnot. She'd been in the store for almost 2 hours when she finally came up to the check-out to pay for her selections. The cashier rang her up and the total came to 839 dollars...yes...a fine addition to our painfully slow day but alas, a problem: she pulled out a business check that had been pre-signed by (according to skinny pregnant b) her husband's business. The check had only the name of the business printed on it so the cashier asked her for I.D. "I don't have I.D., it's a BUSINESS check." she said, as if that was proper and legal. This is where I was summoned to the front for "assistance". I quickly evaluated the situation and again asked for some form of identification. She was on her cell phone talking to the ghost husband and upon seeing the look of disapproval on my face, handed me the cell phone. The male voice on the other end asked if he could just "fax over a copy of his I.D."
whut?
and awayyyyyy I went. "FIRST OF ALL, that would be a COPY of an I.D. #2 Why is your 'wife' driving around town without a driver's license? #3 Do you expect me to take what amounts to a mere piece of paper with an illegible MichaelJFox spasm scratch you call a signature in exchange for almost a thousand dollars worth of MY merchandise?!! What am I, covered in after birth?! Thanks but NO." Jesus-WRITHING-on-the-cross
Did Wal-mart say this was OK? Is this some sort of Homeland Security Candid Camera show? Am I being punished for something I've said?

I have begun drawing plans for my underground dwelling on which I will begin construction soon.

zen THIS

my store, she ees feex

ofcourse its a demon pig...what did you expect, jebus?

Firstlings of the Undesirables

If I had money to open an art gallery, this is what I would call it. My friends have all talked about it but no one has yet stepped forward, financially speaking. This town is in desperate need of something completely different. Perhaps, I'll just print a thousand of these and post them all over town. Perhaps, I'll rent a space downtown, empty as it all is, and put up a sign that just says Firstlings Circus just to see what happens. A bonfire you say...? Probably so...and yet, it begs to be done. Somebody dare me quick before I wake up.

My Online Store

Here it is kids, you too can have a print or a t-shirt with one of my images on it!
Please don't feel that you have to buy something from me in order that I keep creating artwork for your enjoyment, I will not stop doing that because I love you...all 3 of you that still visit regularly. Thanks for your support.

One in Twenty-two

I haven't been myself lately, I've been having these strange bouts of happy. Someone said it had to do with my 'Venus moon rise' or some shit. I don't buy it. I do know that Saturn is rising with the moon right now...or maybe it's over and I've already missed it...but how can a planet next to a moon make me mister happy dude? In that same vein of thought, one might extract the exact moment to buy a lottery ticket: say, for instance, the night Jupiter aligns with Mars then be mister REALLY happy dude. What about the tarots? Runes? Exactly...farce!
So I've made up my own fortune telling device...my own tarot cards.
This one indicates that you are full of suck and beneath the bellies of fish. Stay in the mud. Continue to shame your mother; soon, spring will come and you can ooze out into the world once more, squishing out loud as you squirm free of your mucuous membranes and phlegm hole.

The coveted eel card.

Mexican 101

Today, at a Mexican funeral, some observations:
1. ALL the old men stand (or sit) at the back of the funeral hall.
2. Children are allowed to play and run about even as the catholic priest is talking.
3. the service is indeed in spanish and VERY catholic...stand up. sit down. stand up
sit down. opah...I deen say simon say!
4. the funeral director looked VERY annoyed and unpaid.
5. the family did not pay for a police escort to the cemetary, yet somehow, there
WAS one.
6. my cousins date whores.

Fish Sticks

I'm on vacation this week so I should be blogging more...but I'm lazy like most humans. I did ponder a list but I never wrote it down and now I don't know where to start. Why can't I just be a fish in a tank? Swimming around all day and night...waiting for food to fall from the sky. I wouldn't know that someday I might become fish sticks.
But in this condition, the human state, I am forced to consider my future; even mundane things like what to eat later and did I pay the electric bill? Or bigger things like whether or not I took my medications today and do pets dream? (That one has been on my mind alot lately...not sure why).
I do meet "fish people" from time to time; sad, empty-eyed bubble blowers, looking down at the familiar floor. If I had a net big enough, I could pull them from their comfort zone and place them in a tank with piranha...but like real fish, they'd never know what's really biting off their ass.

more Sketchbook

Notes to Mister

Remember to beat the fucking cat when you get home...she puked on the bed. She won't know why you're beating her...and I don't care.

I met my guardian angel today...and beat his ass. He won't be comin' round here no more.

The weather man panicked everyone the day before yesterday...some big ice storm winter freak blizzard thing was supposed to happen. All the local news showed lines and lines of people at the grocery store...because it's the desert and we frequently get snowed in for days and days but...alas...it was sunny today. I beat his ass.

My neighbor's little yappity dog thing barked all night...at nothing. I lured him with bacon strips and beat his ass.

wow. Is there any problem that cannot be solved with the beating of ass? I could get used to this.

Twenty-eleven

I woke up this morning, 40 years old...which is strange because I went to bed at 20.
Crisis? No, I'm not in the mood for crisis...besides, I might break my hip. I keed.

So, what have I done with all these years:
1. paid over $85,000 in income tax and such
2. paid off 5 cars
3. pooped about 7 thousand times, maybe more.
4. lost and gained 500 pounds
5. made many many friends (from all the poop and fat) I keed again, my friends are
not poop or fat. i luv ya.
6. i can draw
7. i can cook
8. i can sew
9. i can see my vagina
10.i went back to school
11.everyone calls me 'sir'

the Contest

I am my own worst enemy. The contest is in my head. I cannot win.

the Contest

excerpt from "the Book of Daniel"

She had been judged and her punishment was brutal. He kicked her to the floor with every ounce of strength in his 6 foot 2 tall, 300 pound frame and then again and again until at least a dozen blows had been squarely delivered. She'd only really felt the first one.
He stepped on her fingers until they cracked then pulled her head up off the floor by the matted mess that had once been her fancy do. He looked into her eyes and said "Never lie to me again Baby" and punched her head back down.
The guests had all scattered like roaches in the daylight. Not one of them could have helped her, even if they'd wanted to.

School Assignment: Narrative

more sketchies

sketchbook pages

Memory

A half-grown chow hit by a car, mawled her owner's neck when she tried to pick it up.

An older woman fell backwards going up an escalator, cracked her head open and bled a small puddle which then cascaded down two steps.

A deer hit dead on by an 18 wheeler going atleast 80mph; it seemed to explode in front of me.

The darkest and most ominous rainstorm I've ever seen was on a highway in Alabama; so violent and dense, it turned the mid day into night.

The same escalator mentioned above, tore the skin off a little boy's hand because he was playing "lets see what the rubber rail can suck up next".

Fishing in a mud puddle with my brother when we were kids.

Clouds inside a valley beneath a clear blue sky.

My father whipping me until I wet my pants.

Snow in sunshine.

Memory

Dear Mr. Sir,

I am anxious tonight. Can't sleep again. I don't know why, maybe it's everything. How can Everything bother me?

I closed the store late because the customers wouldn't leave. Fussy B's in their fussy weaves. Do they really think I enjoy waiting on them? Walking about with cellphones attached to their empty melon heads. Never realizing I don't give a shit about whether or not they get that one purple sham to match their purple quilt? GET OUT!!! hags.

I went to the grocery store for to get some food and I could not decide what I wanted to eat. It all tastes the same anymore. Food is a whore, you pay money for it and it still leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Fuck Food, I will eat paste.

I actually ate half a turkey sandwich with chips and chocolate milk. mmmm. and then some plums.

There's a strange and curious word, "plums".

Maybe what I need is a change of scenery. I will spin around and see what is behind me...I have this habit of always looking ahead. I worry about tomorrow. I do not fear it, I just don't know when the day will come I meet the human who will set me off in a way I won't control. The day I just stop trying to suppress the angry-hungry.

SPGirl #3

It Was the Last One, I Swore It

The Last One, I Swear

Fire Starter: A Love Story

If you are in love right now...stop reading and get back to it, it's gonna get cold and dry.

I am a grown ass man and so no longer have fantasies about love or finding the perfect mate and living happily ever after, those days are dead to me.

It has been my experience that whenever I meet someone I am remotely interested in and would even consider starting a relationship with that might lead to what you people know as 'love', the spark only ignites the fires of hell. People are simply too needy for my tastes.

Why do I have to call you every fifteen minutes? Why do I need to say it all day long? Why do we have to cuddle after sex? Why do you want to borrow the keys to my car? Why do you need $500 to bail your ex out of jail?

Many upon a time, I had love. It was always warm and always made me very happy. We could spend days and nights together and never have a fight or even a disagreement. We could talk about science and art and politics and all the things grown-ups talk about.
Then the needs start popping up. "I need you to say it...you never say it."
What the fuck do I need to say it for? Don't you FEEL it? "Yes but it's nice to hear sometimes."
Okay, I love you.
"That was nice but it didn't sound like you meant it." And therein lies the rub. At that point, I will light them afire if they're not already packing their shit and aiming it at the door.

You will say I have no patience and you will be right but they made me old and now I have no time. My needs are simple.

Here's what I want:
1. have a career (or atleast a job)
2. say what you mean, always
3. leave the baggage at your mother's house
4. no stories about the ex(s)
5. never bring Jesus to bed with us
6. take it like a man goddammit (that goes for the women too by god)
7. be self-confident enough to know when you are being loved

More Spray Paint

Maximo

Notes for Mr. R

Take Note:
Sleepless again tonight, unable to be still for more than a couple 'hours. The innocent will pay tomorrow. There will be much pain. Call unicef.

Warm milk. Sleeping Pill. Brandy. Sheep. Soft music. Loud music. Dr.Seuss and Spray paint. I did get dizzy and fall down but that's not the same as sleep a-hole.

Once, I was awake for 48 hours. Do you know what the mind does with no sleep for 48 hours? It fills with syrup and chains.

Pain.

The Main Pain is Lain Bane.

More Experimental Spray Paint Art

Random Thoughts for Mr. R

Dear Mr. R,
Tiny gods have beckoned me once more to examine my true nature.
I have of late, been challenged by various fits of human drama unfurling like an onion all around me. Nothing too serious; missing teens, deposed kings, drama queens and numbness in my solar plexis.
In the past 24 hours, I have been angry and pensive, brutal and embarrassed, critical and kind and thoughtful but brash. None of these pairs seem compatible, like a jack and a deuce...what the fuck do you do with those?

I have said many times: "Do not let emotion rule you." "Emotion clouds judgment." "Do not pray, Do." "Act like you have more brain than heart." "You cannot see clearly through tears."
Today was no different though it was much harder to keep it all contained, but I did it.

I feel it all and simultaneously. My bones are screaming. My blood feels solid inside my veins. My skin is tanned and mimics stone. My soul hovers over me, afraid.
Write that one down Mr.R "My soul hovers over me, afraid."

So, with all these storms inside my brain; these tiny gods that cause all the rucous, I wonder why can't I just run away?

Well, I could say something cliche' like: "play the cards you're dealt" or "put on your best poker face and don't let anyone see what you have" but its really not like that. What happens when you get tired of playing?

People use life metaphors too much I think. They start believing in fortune cookies, then one day, someone sees the face of the Virgin Mary in a tortilla. We are much too easily swayed and even easier to dissuade.

Hope? Hope is for rivers Mr.R, hope is the embryo of prayer and who would hear those prayers? The tiny gods inside your brain? And what can they do? What have they done?
Wait. I feel a poem coming on:
Pray to tiny gods within your head as proof that you are still undead and when the voices answer back, another day will you attack.

I apologize for that outburst kids, I couldn't stop myself I couldn't stop those tiny gods o mine.

Liquid Sky

Experimental Spray Paint Portrait

Shit Day

I was doing fine, working at a feverish pace, running back and forth to the front to approve various returns and transaction cancellations and questions about ad product and do we take this G D coupon, when all of a sudden I noticed a small pile of human fecal matter on the floor in the main aisle of my store. Good God and Damn and Christmas people, what the fuck. And then I was without words.
The only two associates I had working at the time were busy with guests at the checkout. I had no choice but to clean it myself as the culprit was not holding up a sign that said "I did it". I doubt they would have cleaned it up anyway. People are suck.
And people laugh at me or look at me queerly when I say "THIS is why Jesus is NEVER coming back!"
I wanted to go to each 'guest' in the building and kick them in the vagina...just once, but then I would have gotten shit on my shoe...nasty, disgusting bitches.

I have to wear a button that says "I Love My Guest" but I took it off and jabbed the pin into my eye a bunch of times, to see if this was real, "to see if I still hurt".

I don't.

Lenny and George

Sea Demon 2

Driven

To see this great country, you must drive thru it (or Forrest Gump it if you have no car). I have just driven thru about 1/4 of it. NM,AZ,NV,CA,OR,WA,ID,MT,WY,CO, then finally, back to TX. 4793 miles to be exact. I enjoyed every minute of it, well, not every minute: Dalhart, Tx. smells like one giant cow ass.
But somewhere along this trip, I began to notice something unusual; there were faces I could swear I'd seen before. So familiar were these faces that I was often tempted to just go up to them and say "hey, wow, I KNOW you!" I found myself staring at them intensely, like a serial killer, studying their bone structure and mannerisms for ANY confirmation to my suspicion.
There was a man I saw somewhere near Death Valley who I know once delivered a truck to my store. Possible? Yes...but the odds of meeting him in some random rest stop in line for the pisser is just too absurd. Then it happened again, only this time it was a server at a KFC where we stopped to lunch. The Golden Gate Bridge at 8 o'clock in the morning, offered us fog and a flock of pro-bicyclists making ready for what apparently was a daily or atleast weekly routine. Among the 30 or so men and women, there was one guy I could swear had been my neighbor. The lady at the toll booth. The tour guide on whale watching day came over to me out of a hundred or so of her captive audience members, says to me "you look like you wanted to see this" and handed me a chart with photos of the dorsal fins belonging to the pod of whales we were about to view. wha? The kid working the counter at countless convenience stores we'd stopped at. His female co-worker, always the same young but burly, mullet hair.
And then it got really weird; they began to recognize ME (or it felt like they were recognizing me). A random, almost inperceivable nod, as if to acknowledge that we were both part of the same herd. A smile in my direction. The occasional 'how are you?' and not just from waitresses who are supposed to make you feel at home.
But NOWHERE along all those miles, did anyone ever ask us where we were from. I mean, I'm not dumb, if they could see my vehicle, they could see we were from by God Texas and maybe that was enough information for people. We actually met some people from Wichita Falls, Tx. but I didn't know them. They were just actual strangers.
I kept pointing out these people to my sister who mostly ignored my excitement and actually began to mock me. "Oh my god, look at the face on this box of little debbies, doesn't that look like someone we know?!!" I hate her so.
Well, finally, a friendly face I ACTUALLY know, said to me that when we begin to recognized all the players in our lives, reoccuring characters in this field of humanity, that we've achieved something great. The world has gotten that much smaller but it is now a cozy place. No matter where you go, find those characters and be familiar, be comforted. Wonderful notion, I thought, but maybe my eyes were just tired after driving for 39 hours. And she said, "maybe they were seeing better than ever before." Ok, too much caffeine? Or maybe, there are only a few thousand faces in the world and everyone of us fits into one of those molds. Our brains, constantly analyzing information from senses, quickly try and file them into one of those slots. The recognition factor is just the brain making a "match".
"Or maybe, it's a flaw in the MATRIX," my sister said. I do hate her.

Brujeria

The Seventh Day

The Will

I see all around me, people drifting by, unconcerned that their feet are no longer touching the ground.
Slowly, their heads fill with hot air and they begin to rise a little higher.
They will soon float passed the clouds and into the actual stratosphere where the absence of ozone permits the sun to burn out their retinas. They weren't using them anyway.
Some of them,awakened to reality by the pain, fall back to Earth and die.
The rest of them will never know what happened, they made no shadows at all.
And I wish I had the will to save them.

Recyclist 2

the Recyclist

Candy Mary's

Dear Happy People,
I loathe you.
I loathe you because you don't even know what you represent nor what it is you really do. You cover each other with syrup and wine then lick each other clean. Fantastic swine.
The twirling of the globe is slowed by the density and immensity of your skulls. We lose hours waiting for you to catch up; days waiting for you to make a decision and a week will go by before your children even see the line. Piglets.
Oceans could be drained. Mountains could be withered. The land could crack in two, and you would still be sucking on those Candy Mary's. I wish I had the will to save you.

wow. That felt gooooood. This is the closest that I ever come to prayer.

Less Depressing Story

Sunday, this past, was the anniversary of my re-employment at LNT. I was free and chose to come back and I am so happy about that decision, I could stick forks in both eyes.
This July also marks my 20th anniversary in retail. Babies have grown up and I've hired them, trained them and fired them and now, they're near retirement. Meanwhile, I'm slowly decaying at this job. I have dreams that all my teeth are falling out in gobs of blood and all I can do is catch them in my hands as I look at the frantic face in the mirror.
The job wouldn't be so bad if only there were no people, no trucks, no employees with problems and no stupid bosses. Is that too much to ask? Well then I, remain damned.
Sunday, we had an ad in the paper and on the front page, was a gynormous gas bbq grill that was marked down from $299 to $199. Droves of people looking for this thing and everyone who came in actually got one. So far so good. Then church let out and god+damn+christmas...they must have left the brain in the parking lot getting lickt by cats. The box that this bbq grill came in weighed in at 167lbs. It measured approx. 4'x4'x3'. HUGE box. Why would you come buy a bbq grill in a civic? And why would you ask ME to carry it out for you and say something like "well, can we just TRY and get it in the back seat?"
"NO LADY, we can't try and get it in...I've already tried this with the last two dumb bitches that came in to buy this gigantic appliance in VW's!!!" "get the fuck outta my store and please send your husband down so I can kick him in the balls for letting you roam freely!"
See, I think I need a new career.

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.