and other subjects. In a troubled world, more cruelty.
My son's part pit bull, Gator, disappeared in a thunderstorm, right out the front door and was never seen again.
A powerful and beautiful dog, they searched for him to no avail. I always worry, in an ethnically mixed neighborhood, if he met his fate like the dogs here. I pray he didn't.
http://video.hsus.org/index.jsp?fr_story=e4225094dc9c169a934022a62d62e3e4dd609465
My grandparents loved dogs. My grandfather (the rake), took a dog from a fight and brought him home to my grandmother. This was in the Victorian days of America. She laid him on a pallet by the woodstove and nursed him with salt water. I remember her telling me that he winced terribly when she did it. "Don" had lost his fight, and his owner opened his head with an ax trying to kill him. The wound took months to heal. He was a good dog, she said, but one day he killed her French bulldog, and my grandfather took him to a farm in the Pennsylvania countryside. So the story goes. Not so different from the end the fighting dogs suffer after their wounds are healed and their impoundments are over.
2 comments:
I went to the video, but couldn't watch more than the beginning because dog fighting makes me sick. Sad, sad, sad!
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