#261 - Biker and Wonder

This post is the reason that I hate motorcycles and dogs.  It's really a shame because my boys would love, love, love a dog.  That is for the first 3 days until they get tired of it and I have to take care of the dog.  As much as I love my kids, I have not been able to go there and I don't know if I ever will.  Let me explain...

When I was growing up, my parents did not love dogs.  My mom was/is allergic and my dad has never been a big animal lover.  My sister and I followed in their footsteps, but my brother is another matter.  He started asking for a dog at a young age and never let up.  For those of you who know my brother...he can be very tenacious when he gets an idea in his head.  Eventually he wore my parents down and we all welcomed (I use the word lightly) "Wonder" the dog into our family.  I have no idea what kind of dog he was, but he was small-ish, black and white-ish, and he barked and dug up the yard.  (Can't you feel my love?)  Anyway, my parents did not go so far as to let the dog live in the house, but he had a pen in our very small backyard.  My brother did take him out and play with him a good bit, but for most of the time, he was penned up.  Anyway, he started to dig under the fence and eventually one day got out. 

It just so happened that that particular day I was home alone.  It was a Saturday morning and I was lounging around in my pj's (for the record the really cute pink plaid ones that my mom made - remember mom?) when the doorbell rang.  I looked through the glass (safety first) and saw a really scary biker dude.  My heart started beating fast and I thought, "Be very quiet and back away from the door and call the neighbors."  Then I noticed that he was holding a black lump in his arms.  The lump turned out to Wonder.  He had gotten out and ran into the street and had gotten hit by the man on the motorcycle.  He said that he was really sorry and that the dog had darted out in front of him.  Then he held him out for me to take him...

Long pause......

Sigh!  There was no way that I could take the dog from him.  I was pretty scared of the dog when it was healthy, and now it was bleeding and kinda moaning.  I went back into the house and got a laundry basket and a couple of beach towels and the man put the dog in for me. 

I thanked him...
He said he was sorry...
He left...
I was alone...
with the dog...
the bleeding, moaning dog. 

Remember that this was before cell phones.  I think my parents were at a baseball game or something and would be back by lunchtime.  I had no one to call and no idea what to do.  I remember sitting there with the dog, listening to him suffer.  Agony for both of us.  My heart eventually over-rode my brain and I was able to pet him and try to comfort him until the cavalry arrived.  Needless to say, my brother was heartbroken and the dog either died on his own or had to be put to sleep from his injuries.  Traumatizing!

It did not seem to affect D as much as me because he has had several dogs since.  I, however, am not interested...at all!  Sorry boys!