Went to visit Diesel, and couldn't find him. Thought they moved him to another building, but he was nowhere to be found. Checked the horse stalls, the lamb pens, nothing.
Went back inside and asked, where's Diesel? The girls got real quiet and stared at me, and I guess I knew the answer but it didn't sink in until one said, OMG I'm so sorry.
When I had gone to check on him the day after he was run over, we thought the prognosis was good. He was young, he'd heal up in 6 weeks or so, and be fine other than some arthritis that would likely set in as he aged. Unfortunately, Diesel never stood up again after he arrived, and he had lost control of his bowels. The clinic couldn't find my cell number to call me and the decision was made to put him to sleep.
When Deez was younger he was so awful at his job. He preferred to play with the lambs rather than protect them. His first year I think he killed 20 lambs. Everyone said to get rid of him but I kept trying, thinking he'd grow out of it. I tried to work with him, and he was great when I was around to keep an eye. Not so great when I turned my back. He took to killing chickens too, though he ate them down to the feet and beaks instead of just played with them until they died. Even though they weren't mine (the neighbor lets their chickens run wild) I didn't want him killing them. One day while watching TV I heard that god awful squawk a hen makes when she's about to be sent to Jesus, and I ran outside in time to catch him in the process of killing the last chicken left standing. All of his past crimes came flooding into my head and I thought, you rotten SHIT everyone told me to get rid of you and I kept saying no no we'll get past this, and here you are doing it AGAIN! Another thought regarding the futility of spanking a 120 pound dog with my hand surfaced, along with something about yelling being equally pointless, and then my eyes landed upon a brick lying on the ground beside him. For a moment I thought, OMG I can't do that, but as that horrified sentiment was being formed, a much darker, angrier one took hold and I did unthinkable. I grabbed the brick and knocked him upside his big stupid head and yelled NO ASSHOLE!
For a moment he stared at me, stupified, the chicken dropped to the ground in front of him. For a moment I thought, I'm going straight to animal abuser hell.
Then he shrugged and grabbed the bird again.
I whopped him in the head again and asked him what part of no and a brick on his head was confusing to him.
This time he yelped and dropped the chicken, glaring at me before taking off to the barn. I felt like shit. I kept telling myself, he's lucky he's still alive, any other rancher would have shot his stupid ass months ago. But it didn't matter. I'd just had a Come To Jesus meeting with my dog, but with a brick instead of a chick tract, and I felt about an inch tall.
Deez never looked at another chicken again. The black hen he was in the process of eating that day is still running around here somewhere. The brick still lies on the ground where I dropped it after I realized what I'd done. I still feel like shit for it, but he forgave me the next day and remained my bud, always putting himself between me and whoever showed up at the house. He would stay by my side as I walked up the porch steps, letting me lean on him for support on those nights when my back hurt so bad that I had to take the steps one at a time. I pretended I wasn't that attached to him but the truth is he was my favorite dog of all time.
Gonna miss you buddy.
No comments:
Post a Comment