I know, I know, I'm trying to get away from the negativity. But when something so negative consumes you, you become negative yourself. Rather than wait until Monday when my passion, and frankly disgust, dissipates, I'm going to address this today.
http://www.niagarafallsreview.ca/2015/04/30/dog-hog-tied-shot-and-dumped-in-wellands-recreational-canal
The Reader's Digest version of the above article is that someone, or a group of people, hog tied a dog and then shot her in the head with a small caliber weapon. Obviously to most people, this is disgusting. Most people I say, because obviously there is at least one person that thinks this is without issue. I can go on and on and on about how disgusted this makes me feel, but I won't. Everyone else already is and will be over the next little while. Instead, I choose to honor the memory of a dog that, to my knowledge, I have never encountered. I would like to introduce you to the dogs that have enlightened my life.
I cannot start anywhere else other than Sam. Sam was my childhood dog. She was a schnauzer that my family, by some means, inherited. Sam fell in love with both my brother and I and was very protective of us both. My mom tells the story that at night Sam would walk into my room, then my brother's, then would sleep right between our two doors once she knew we were safe in bed. My mom jokes that she could never lose me because all she needed to do was drive around town and wherever Sam was sitting on the front step, she knew that I must be inside. Sam used to run alongside my bike when I rode around town. Over time and as she got older, she couldn't keep up and would walk home when her body couldn't take her any further. One day I rode to the store to pick up a wrestling magazine and as I sat and read it in front of the store, Sam began moaning. She had made it all the way to the store this time. By the time I was able to find help, Sam was gone. That was over twenty years ago but it still makes me cry while I write this.
I had two dogs in my early twenties. I have absolutely no recollection of what the first dog's name was. My girlfriend and I were given the dog because someone didn't want their dog. A few months later we were all outside, the dog was tied up by a rope. After some time we looked around and realized the dog was nowhere to be found. He had somehow escaped the rope. We looked and looked and looked for the dog with no luck whatsoever. As my girlfriend was out looking, I took the initiative of calling the Humane Society. As it turned out, they indeed had our dog and told me that it would cost some sum of money to get him back. When I informed my girlfriend that they had the dog and we would need to pay this money, she decided that the dog was not worth it. I was of the opinion that he was. I lost.
My second early twenties dog was Hershey. My girlfriend decided that we should get a dog for her two kids. We went to a flea market to look at a poodle which was advertised as a puppy, but upon review was nowhere close to puppy status. While she went off to argue with the vendor if "reserving" the dog meant we were "taking" the dog, her son and I looked at other litters. I started playing around with a group of puppies, when the little guy asked what kind of dogs they were. I told him they were schnauzers and that I had had one as a kid. Instantly he wanted one of them and ultimately we did get one, which was the afore mentioned, Hershey. Now we got this dog because the kids begged to have one. There was nothing more, according to them, that they wanted. The dog, according to them, would be taken care of by them without any help from their mother or myself. However, over time, according to them, they did not have time to feed, bathe, walk or even interact with the dog. So, with my girlfriend not being a dog person, Hershey became my dog. Which I was fine with truth be told. Couple years later, the girlfriend and I went through a rather difficult breakup. I insisted that I take Hershey with me because she had no use for the dog and the children had lost interest a long time before. She responded by saying that the dog belonged to the kids and that there was no way I could have the dog. I told her that if she ever changed her mind and wanted the dog gone, to get a hold of me. ( See where this is going? ) Three months later I stopped by to pick up some items I had forgotten. Things were okay with her and I. We sat and chatted, I hung out with the kids. It wasn't a terrible visit. Until I asked where the dog was. I was told that she gave the dog away about two weeks after I walked out the door. I asked why she never told me she was getting rid of the dog. She told me with a laugh "What do you expect, I was mad at you at the time." I walked out the door again and never walked back through.
I'm trying my best to think of a justifiable reason why this dog ended up in the canal. I'm having a very hard time coming up with any type of answer. The only thing that keeps crossing my mind is that there must have been another option. Put an ad in the paper. Bring the dog to the Humane Society. If the dog was ill, take them to the vet and humanely have them put down. I would prefer that they bring the dog to my store and allow me or someone else to do something. I'll even take cats. Contrary to what my wife says, I am not a cat person. But no animal deserves to leave this world in such a way. Sorry if I went backwards on the happy scale. Monday will be better, I promise.
Shin Kicker says take the Q-Tip out of your ear.
- Matthew Terry
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