The more I think this planet, and the animals on it, deserve much better.
I came close to doing bodily harm to someone today. A woman, in fact. And it was only by force of will (and the knowledge that if I did hit her it would be catastrophic since I was holding a pick-axe at the time) that kept me from doing so, and allowed me to walk away. Although, afterwards, I did speak aloud many strong words, and I hacked the living daylights out of a perfectly inoffensive packing-case to dissipate my anger.
It all started at I was using the aforementioned pick-axe to break up some hard-packed earth, in preparation to digging a trench. As I swung I heard a weird squeaking sort of noise. I stopped immediately. If there was something alive nearby I didn't want to kill it. It sounded odd. Never heard anything quite like it. It almost sounded like that weird almost-but-not-quite-a-squeak squeal that guinea-pigs make.
I thought if there was a guinea-pig around it must be an escaped pet. So I started to look around. There was no guinea-pig that I could see, but just the other side of the hedge line there was a Jack Russell terrier. I looked at it and said, "Hello short-stuff, you chasing guinea-pigs??"
It answered me. It tried to bark but the noise it made was that squeak I'd heard. I was worried. I thought there must be something wrong with it. It must be injured. Or maybe it had something stuck in its throat. People
will throw tennis ball for dogs and then not supervise them - it's dangerous. A soft, hollow ball will tear, and bits can be inhaled and choke dogs. Either use a solid ball or, if you do use a soft ball never leave your dog alone with the ball.
I hopped over the hedge and walked slowly up to the dog. I crouched near it and said softly, "Hey there boy, are you hurt?? Let me see." He didn't look in distress. He wagged his tail and bounced up to me in that way that Jack Russells do. I reached out my free hand (the other was still holding the pick-axe) and scratched his ears. Then I heard a woman speak, quite posh she sounded, too.
"There you are Jonno, naughty boy, running away from mummy."
I stood up. "Is he yours?? Silly question, of course he is, you just said his name. I'm a bit concerned about him, he's not barking properly. I think he might have hurt himself."
She replied, "Oh, no, he's fine. He can't bark. When he was a puppy he wouldn't stop barking and it gave me headaches so I had his vocal chords cut."
"You did
what??"
She repeated her statement, quite unconcerned.
I said, "I didn't think vets would do that, in fact I didn't think vets were
allowed to do that. Any more than they're allowed to dock tails, or de-claw cats."
She said, "Oh they won't. I couldn't find a pet practice that would do it, but I had a word with the Master of the Hunt and he recommended one of the Hunt's members who is a vet and who looked after the foxhounds. He said he would privately do that sort of thing. And so he did."
I found myself gripping the pick-axe handle very, very tightly and figured it would be best if I walked away. I said "Nice dog. Shame about the owner." And got the hell out as fast as I could.
In between swear-words and blows to the case I kept asking, "How could somebody do that to a poor dog??" None of the blokes I was working with had an answer. Though the one who has two Staffies at home said, "You should have hit her, I would have."
Part of me wishes I had. But most of me knows it wouldn't have made a difference. She still wouldn't have understood what she did was wrong. And I'd have been in the wrong for doing it.
It did make me realise how much I miss having a dog. It's just over 2 years since Reisen died, and a bit over 3 since my Harley boy was put to sleep. I miss them. I haven't wanted to get another dog because nothing could fill the gaps my boys left and I didn't want to try. And I didn't want to risk getting a dog that wouldn't be loved enough because it wasn't them. But I do miss having a dog. And maybe I'm ready to have another now. I've started checking the
Golden Retriever Club's Rescue & Re-homing site. And the
Dog's Trust. And the
Blue Cross.
I'm sure if it's meant to be then the right one will come along. And I'm sure my boys wouldn't mind.
Ze
