Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Mad Dog

I was lost, so I drove up the gravel drive of the ramshackle country house to ask directions. As I pulled up I could see that there was a dog lying out next to the barn. Off away from that was a pen with a pack of dogs in it and they were barking loudly. I opened the door to the car and got out to ask the man who was standing next to the dog for directions.
"Can I help you?" The man asked
"Yes, I was wondering how to get back to the main road." I looked around at all the dogs over in the big pen. "What're all the dogs for?"
"Oh, those are for hunting mostly. My dad bought a couple of puppies back before I was even born. He raised them here on the farm and bred them with others from neighboring farms. I carried on with that even after my dad died. Now I've got both hunting dogs and fighting dogs."
"Do you ever sell them as pets?" I asked.
"Oh no, these aren't pets. They stay outside all the time, they're good security too. Once my mom kind of took a liking to one of the puppies that my dad had bred, so we did take it inside and tried to make a pet out of it. Problem was that it was hard to house break it, and as it got older it kept trying to hump my mom's white poodle. She surely didn't want some half breed pups living around here, so she put it back out in the pen with the rest of them."
As I stood there the dogs in the pen barked and yelped even louder.
"Shut the hell up over there before I beat you little bastards." Screamed the farmer. He looked back at me, "You gotta beat them once in a while to keep them in line."
It was at that point that I looked down at the dog lying on the ground.
"Is that dog dead?" I said with a bit of shock in my voice, realizing it had not moved since I drove up.
"Yep. Damn thing was a monster, even after all I did  for it. No matter how much I beat that thing, no matter how much I punished him, I couldn't tame him. Just before you drove up the son of a bitch came at me, teeth bared, and tried to bite me. So I shot it. Shot it dead. Maybe that'll teach those others who the hell is boss around here.

Explantion; I put this post up on Wednesday morning and left it up for the whole holiday weekend because I wanted to see what kind of comments I would get. First of all, it isn't a true story. I meant it as an allegory. It has nothing directly to do with that Ferguson, Missouri incident, yet it does have something to do with it. Basically I was trying to point out that if you mistreat people, over time they will eventually rebel and probably hurt you. Of course striking out at your oppressor can very often lead to your demise. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't get very many comments and that a dialog never developed in the comment section. I find that when I do what I perceive to be controversial posts, that I get fewer comments. I mean, I didn't even get a bunch of outraged dog lovers to bite on this story.

1 comment:

  1. Report the man Take photos. He needs to go to jail for life. Murderer!