TheBanyanTree: Killer Dogs, A Love Story

[Monique Colver]

You would have perhaps left it to decompose in the yard? Eeewwwww.

The dogs have been exonerated of all charges in the unfortunate demise of
poor kitty. After all forensic evidence was gathered it was obvious that the
dogs had nothing to do with it. Kitty fell from the sky, dropped by an eagle
or some other large bird. Which was why I only saw them run around her
excitedly, no doubt wondering what was going to be next to fall from the
sky.

"It's raining cats and dogs."

On Sat, Apr 17, 2010 at 8:56 PM, Pam Lawley <pamj.lawley at gmail.com> wrote:

> i DUNNO if I could ahve picked thqat poor kitty up - double bagged hands or
> not!!
>
> On Sat, Apr 17, 2010 at 1:51 PM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com
> >wrote:
>
> > Killer Dogs, A Love Story
> >
> >
> >
> > This is not an amusing tale, so don’t laugh. This is a story of death and
> > mayhem, and what happens when creatures venture into unknown territory.
> > It’s
> > also a tale of redemption and the struggle of the human spirit to survive
> > in
> > a world of chaos and destruction.
> >
> > Or not.
> >
> > Anyway. I live happily with one husband and two dogs. Last night charming
> > husband was away for his one night a week in Seattle, and I was out late.
> > Not late for some people, but late for me, who is never out much at all.
> I
> > was at a fabulous birthday dinner, and met lots of wonderful people, and
> > got
> > to sit next to the birthday girl. It was a great evening.
> >
> > Then I drove myself home. I was looking forward to getting home because I
> > always look forward to getting home and it’d been a long day. This was
> > especially true since I’d taken the day off and hadn’t done a lick of
> work.
> > (What is a lick of work? I don’t even lick envelopes – I get the
> > self-sealing kind so I don’t have to.) It was a nice night out and was,
> as
> > it typically is at 10 pm, dark. It took just over an hour to get home.
> >
> > The dogs, who had been left out in the back yard while I was gone,
> weren’t
> > their usual barky selves when I pulled up. They know the sound of our
> > vehicles, and the UPS truck, and bark enthusiastically when they hear any
> > of
> > them. The UPS driver doesn’t appreciate it much, but it’s not as if they
> > jump over the fence and attack him or anything.
> >
> > I thought this was odd. They never go anywhere without me or charming
> > husband.
> >
> > I went into the house, and then heard one of them scratch at the back
> door.
> > I’ve asked them not to scratch at the door, but I might as well ask birds
> > not to fly. I opened the back sliding door and let them in. They ran in
> as
> > they usually door, in a hurry, which is only allowed if they’re feet are
> > clean. Since it’s been dry, they rushed in, told me how happy they were
> to
> > see me, ran around for a few seconds , and then asked to go back outside.
> I
> > thought this was odd since they’d been out long enough, six hours anyway,
> > that whatever needed to be done outside should have been done.
> >
> > Then they came back again, and wanted back out again. This time I looked
> > out
> > in the back yard. It’s extremely dark out there, at least during the
> hours
> > when the sun isn’t up. We have only the back porch light, and it doesn’t
> > illuminate much of anything. But I saw something on the ground. Or did I?
> >
> > There’s no grass in that section. The dogs have made sure of that, and
> > we’re
> > going to put river rock in the area this year so they can run back and
> > forth
> > all they want and not kill anything. It’s the area right outside the
> door.
> >
> > It could have been a shadow. It could have been wet dirt next to dry
> dirt,
> > though how just that one area got wet . . .  maybe someone peed on it? In
> > the shape of a dead animal?
> >
> > Highly unlikely. I got a bit closer. Not that I wanted to, mind you.
> >
> > Dead animal, with long black tail. Or long tail. Hard to see what color
> it
> > was in the dark, but it looked to be all black. And not moving. I
> wouldn’t
> > expect it to be moving, had it been in the yard any length of time. And
> it
> > wasn’t.
> >
> > I made the dogs come back into the house. At this point they weren’t
> > bothering said poor animal, but running around as if the night were still
> > young and they were ready for an all-nighter.
> >
> > They came back in, and were disappointed when I wouldn’t let them out
> > again.
> > Too bad for them. I told them I was very disappointed in them, to which
> > they
> > responded, “Yeah, but did you see what we DID?”
> >
> > I called charming husband in Seattle and told him what had happened at
> the
> > homestead. I don’t know why – I needed to tell someone because I was
> > feeling
> > a bit queasy about having a dead animal of some sort in my back yard. And
> I
> > was afraid it was a cat.
> >
> > I love cats. I love dogs, and have them, and I don’t have cats, but I
> bear
> > them no ill will. One of the dogs, Ash, doesn’t either – he bears no one
> > ill
> > will, but he doesn’t know cats and thinks they’re toys. Honey, on the
> other
> > hand, bears much ill will toward cats. I chalk this up to her abusive
> > puppyhood before I rescued her. I think she was severely traumatized by a
> > renegade kitty, which would explain her aversion to cats.
> >
> > So I was sad.
> >
> > Charming husband advised me how to proceed in the morning. I had no
> > intention of venturing back out in the dark to figure it out. “Put on two
> > pairs of gloves,” he said, “And, if you need to, there’s a clothes pin
> you
> > can put on your nose.”
> >
> > The gloves I can understand. We have a box of the medical laytex gloves
> > that
> > we use for sensitive medical procedures and other things that go on
> around
> > here. But a clothes pin? Why would we 1) have a clothes pin, and 2) why
> > would I want to put one on my nose?
> >
> > “But that’s going to really hurt my nose,” I said, stating the obvious.
> >
> > “Yeah, but you won’t be able to smell anything.”
> >
> > “I don’t care, I’m not putting a clothes pin on my nose.”
> >
> > “Okay, but just in case.”
> >
> > Where does he get these things?
> >
> > After sitting up for a couple of hours watching reruns of Criminal Minds,
> > in
> > which many people dye gruesomely (and this does not bother me in the
> least
> > –
> > these are fictional tv people, after all, and even so, they’re still just
> > people, not cute little kitties or doggies), we went to bed. I told the
> > dogs
> > to keep their distance from me because I was not pleased. They were so
> > tired
> > from their adventures they didn’t really care anyway.
> >
> > This morning they started making “go outside” noises, as in, “Let us out
> > right now! We left a toy out there and we want to play!”
> >
> > I told them no way and suited up. The big plastic garbage bags were not
> > where they belonged. In their place was a box which once held big plastic
> > garbage bags, but it was empty. So I took a smaller kitchen garbage bag ,
> > double gloved, and ventured outside, telling the dogs to stay put. They
> > actually did so, which was a huge surprise.
> >
> > I approached the poor dead kitty, for kitty it was, carefully. Not that I
> > thought it might jump up and attack me after feigning death all night,
> like
> > some demented kitty in a slasher movie, but to show respect. I then
> > apologized to said kitty for its tragic fate. I told said kitty, who had
> > actually been quite lovely in real life, that I thought she was a lovely
> > kitty, and that I would seek revenge on her behalf.
> >
> > Perhaps that last phrase isn’t quite true.
> >
> > Kitty had a hole in her side, a big gaping hole, as if someone had cut
> into
> > her with surgical precision and then decided, halfway in, to just start
> > ripping out intestines.
> >
> > I picked up kitty by her pretty black tail. She was stiff as a board. For
> > all I knew, someone had thrown her into the yard already dead. I’m not
> sure
> > who would do that, or why, but I’ll take any sort of implausibility as a
> > sign my dogs aren’t killers.
> >
> > Getting her into the bag was a bit tricky, but nothing my years of
> > accounting hadn’t trained me for. I then double bagged kitty, and took
> her
> > out to the garage for charming husband to dispose of. If I’d had yellow
> > crime tape I would have marked the scene of the crime, but I’m all out.
> >
> > Then the dogs were free to go outside, and they rushed to where they’d
> left
> > their new toy and then looked at me, disbelief on their little doggy
> faces.
> >
> > “Life’s tough,” I said, “Get used to it.”
> >
> > Their response was to look at me with that “What the hell?” response I’m
> so
> > used to from them.
> >
> > I hope kitty wasn’t someone’s much beloved pet. I’m not in the mood to go
> > door to door asking if someone has misplaced their kitty just so I can
> > announce, “I found it! And it’s dead!” Of course, then I could hand over
> > double bagged kitty. My insensitivity knows no bounds.
> >
> > I have a very plausible scenario for how kitty ended up in our backyard.
> > Work with me here. I think kitty is new to the neighborhood, and
> therefore
> > didn’t realize that this is one of those yards she should avoid. So she’s
> > out doing her thing, walking along the fence perhaps, when suddenly, due
> to
> > poor nutrition and a reluctance to exercise, she experiences a massive
> > heart
> > attack. And then plop, she falls into the yard, already dead. I’m going
> to
> > go with this one I think, because it helps to alleviate my guilt. I know
> > the
> > dogs didn’t leave the yard to go out hunting. Despite their best efforts,
> > they’ve yet to figure out how to get out. In this one thing, we’re
> smarter
> > than they are. It’s not much, but sometimes it’s all we’ve got.
> >
> > The dogs are grounded for the time being. No play dates, no Internet
> > access,
> > no telephones. Just wait till their father gets home.
> >
> > --
> > Monique Colver
> >
>



-- 
Monique Colver