When Animals Attack.... or just Count Coup

I wanted to take a moment to address the horrible tragedy of the man killed by the wild animals this week. Given a man lost his life, even PETA would be hard pressed to take the side of the animals. However, looking at the severity of the taunting that went on, I cannot assign full blame to the animals.

I am not referring to the escaped tiger at the San Francisco Zoo. Instead I refer to the man killed in my kitchen this week by my two dogs. I don’t know if it was a Napoleon Complex that caused that little 6 inch tall man to continually terrorize my yellow labs, but all I know is he would not allow any peace to reign in our home. A couple of times a week a little Chuck Wagon would appear out of the wall in our hallway and with that tiny teamster screaming “HEEYAA!!!! HEEYAA!!!!!!!!” the chuck wagon would blaze through our house. He would target the dogs, and after he had worked them up into a frenzy, he would lead them to the kitchen where he disappeared into the cabinets under the sink.



The dogs would be left panting, barking, and clawing at the cabinet doors. Gail and I would be forced to spend the next two hours trying to calm the dogs. I often thought about getting a Red Ryder and putting an end to this crap. Earlier this year I went as far as to contact several Indian Tribes to see if there were any 6 inch Braves out there stuck in the 1880’s who would be willing to camp out in my kitchen for a few days and turn that little cowboy punk into a pin cushion. (I even told them they could keep his scalp, his little rifle, and any shiny beads or whiskey they found in the wagon). No Luck.

Well, it just so happens that earlier this week when the wagon came unexpectedly busting through the hall, that we heard the sound of splintering wooden spokes and looked up to see the little wagon lurching with a broken wheel. Abby, the older dog, saw the handicap and immediately recognized this opportunity to end the years of abuse.

I wish I could say that Abby just scooped the cowboy off of the wagon and gave him a couple of hard shakes. But the truth is she went completely medieval on him. There was blood all over the kitchen. Between the two dogs they completely devoured the little guy. However, their coats have never looked shinier.

If anyone sees a tiny little red and white checkered Conestoga Wagon with no driver and a busted wheel zipping along somewhere, please let me know. Abby says she is entitled to any shiny beads or whiskey inside.