Feb 14, 2009

The dog under the smokehouse

When I was living with my dad, a neighbor of ours had two Rottweilers that my brother hated. It could be because they ran loose and would wander onto to his property and scare his dog, Penny. I know they would watch me sometimes while I went to the mailbox and I wondered if they were seeing me as a giant chicken carcass, like in the cartoons.

I remember one day my brother called me and said, "Look, I think I saw a mad (meaning rabid!) Rottweiler run under Daddy's smokehouse...I want you to go out there and see if its under there..." Ok. He wants me to run outside where the "mad Rottweiler" is and check on its location and status and put myself at risk. What?! Does he think I'm stupid? So, I went outside, and sure enough there was a big black dog under the smokehouse. I called him up and said, "Yep, its under there. You going to call the animal control people?"

Next thing I knew here comes Buddy, and says, "Look, I'm going to go in the smokehouse and jump up and down to make the dog come out, and you wait out here and tell me when it does..." I said, "Wait a minute! What if it runs out here and bites my ass?? I'm staying in the smokehouse with you." So, I waited outside while my brother jumped up and down in the smokehouse, but the big black dog didn't budge. Buddy went back to his house, and left me with the dog under the smokehouse problem: "Call me if he comes out, but be careful and don't let him bite you. I think he has rabies."

I'm standing in my Daddy's kitchen, and I thought I would conduct my own little test. I took some biscuits left over from supper and poked them under the smokehouse toward the dog. The big black dog ate them. Then I got some bologna, which Daddy bought for his dog JoJo, the mean beagle who hated my guts, and gave that to the dog.

He scarfed it right up. I gave him some water, and he lapped that up. "Hummm," I thought. "This dog does not have rabies, and he looks like he's been taken good care of." I tried to get him to crawl out, but he just looked at me and wagged his tail. So, struck by inspiration, I just started walking away, and went to the hill overlooking my sister's property and sat down. In a little while, the big black dog joined me.

He was magnificent. A shiny black coat, and about as tall and long as a Rottweiler, but more slender, and with much more soulful eyes. If it had been me, I would have put an ad in the paper, and when no one showed up to claim him, kept his ass. But, JoJo, being the mean little beagle dog he was, would not allow such a dog to co-exist in his environment without worrying the crap out of him. I took him out to Buddy's house, where the big dog played with his dog Penny, and we waited for the Animal Control guy to come out. Of course, he fell in love with the dog on sight, and decided that if no one claimed him, he would probably take him home.

And so ended one of our adventures that occured when I lived with my dad during the later years of his life. I was in my 40's and Buddy was in his 50's. Damn, that's almost 10 years ago!!

I often wonder, though, why I didn't go in the smokehouse and jump up and down, while my brother waited outside....weird, huh?


SJ said...

I kind of assumed this was a childhood tale till you broke the suspense at the end. New moral: people who live in smokehouses shouldn't shoo dogs? ow whatever.

Anne said...

What a beautiful dog.

Heh. Your big brother still knows how to talk you into anything. :D

just me said...

Thanks for the comments, guys.