A Tale Of Two DogsMy mother's side of the family has a long past of mistreating the various dogs unfortunate enough to have them as their masters.
There were many as a child, but one will always stick out to me. His name was Samson, an English Pointer. It spent most of its life on a chain on the edge of the yard, ten feet at the most, tangled up half the time so he couldn't move. As with the other dogs, he was acquired at some point of interest then utterly forgotten about barring cases of escape and therefore inconvenience, its care the problem of the children. I'd like to say I did a good job, but I didn't, though, tragically I did well enough to keep it alive for years. He hated being chained up, and broke a few in his time, but ultimately it was his fate to be a prisoner. I should've freed him to whatever fate, but I didn't, in spite of tears shed on my part. I don't recall what happened to him; I hope it was a happy fate.
I came home to visit the other day, and, yet again there are a bunch of dogs half forgotten about. One in particular, a blonde medium-smallish sort of dog, short hair. Outside to steal a smoke, I hear whimpering out back, and go to find Samson all over again, the poor thing chained up in the middle of the forest that is our back yard, tangled up to immobility. I released it, got it some water, and in the space of five minutes the thing would follow me, loyally at my side, to hell. Turns out, it's my sister's dog, a gift from a boyfriend that is no more, that she could care less about yet hasn't the guts to do anything about, nor does the rest of the family, so it spends its time dodging cars or chained to a tree forgotten about, as it's polite enough not to bark. I want to cry yet again.
Tomorrow, I will go to the car and the dog will follow me in, as it trusts me far more than anyone else in this house. I will drive it to the shelter and that will be that. By all mannerisms its a perfectly good dog and should find suitors quickly, not being the over-sized, over-noisy, or over-vicious sort. I hope it finds a worthy home. If not, anything will be a damned sight better than the fate it will suffer should I leave it here and try to forget about it, like Samson and all the others. Hopefully I'll have done a favor.
solowing 22-25, M 3 Responses 2 Jun 20, 2012