CONCLUSION OF THE STORY

I stumbled through the trees, following the noise. Suddenly the noise stopped. I could hear the drunken neighbour still calling...then, closer by, a low growling. I waved my flashlight frantically in that direction. My light picked out shadows – four of them frozen in place, not moving. There was supposed to be five. A dog was missing! My heart was in my throat; I knew that Smooch, my huge awkward puppy, was the most vulnerable of the bunch.

Another thrust through branches and I was behind them. With relief I saw Smooch, his back to me as he stood watching the other three. The neighbour’s black male was in the center, looking straight ahead, and Grump and Louka were on each side of him; their faces close to his, menacing, growling each in turn. He stayed still; if he moved they would be on him and he knew it. His sister, the brown female, was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey!” I said loudly. Duh! The only excuse I can give is that I was as hyper as the dogs at that point.

That’s all it took. The black male made a break for it, heading home, and my three (Louka is practically mine anyway) were right after him. I started to run again, yelling at them to stop.

I broke into the clearing at the neighbour’s house to find the idiot standing on his gallery, hanging onto the old, grey mother of his killer dogs. She was snarling wildly – she had tortured Louka from puppyhood and we all know they are sworn enemies. I watched in horror as Louka and Grump changed direction and headed up the stairs to attack her. The poor old thing did what she could to defend herself. Her master certainly wasn’t helping; he had stepped back and was still crooning (yes, CROONING) “Bien non. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

His panel truck was parked by the stairs. I saw an aluminum shovel lying in the back and I grabbed it, then raced to the skirmish, screaming as loud as I could. I brought it down with a bang on the wooden floor beside the three biting, snarling dogs, yelling Grump’s and Louka’s names – telling them to STOP! To GET OFF! My ever obedient pit let go of the old one’s throat and, surprisingly, Louka desisted too.

When they both backed off, I glanced around for the other animals. The large brown female was limping badly, and Smooch was following her around in the yard, his tail going a mile a minute. He though he was playing – there was no danger there. The big black male was cowering by the bush; he was done too. The old female was trying to right herself from the gallery floor without much success – she was hurt. Louka and Grump, although snarling, were following orders and staying behind me.

I focused on the drunken sot in front of me. The shovel still in hand I advanced towards him.

“You let your damned dogs out again!’ I said through clenched teeth. “And my little grandchildren are playing in my yard!! They came and attacked my dog, you stupid old beep!!”

“Bien non, bien non.” He was still crooning. “Everything’s okay.”

“Look at your dog!! You did nothing! You could have shoved her into the house!! You did nothing, you drunken shit! And you let your other ones run loose again. How many damned times do we need to tell you they’re dangerous?? ”

My aggressive tone finally got to him, and he told me to puck off, I had no business there, and it got worse from that moment on. I won’t go into details; and, yes, I know there is no earthly use arguing with a person that drunk, but my fear had now turned to anger. I wanted to pound the dude to a pulp.

When he advanced toward me, I pushed him in the bare belly with the shovel, then threw it at him. It landed at his feet, much to my chagrin. He swore at me and advanced again; I shoved him. Hard! Thank heavens a lawn chair was in the right place; he went flying back and fell to sit on it instead of taking a header off the gallery, which is high enough to injure.

A sudden disgust for the whole episode swept over me. I also remembered that I was on HIS property now. Enough was enough. I turned and walked down the stairs, calling to my three dogs to come. Don’t ask me what he said next; I don’t remember exactly, except it was vulgar. All I know is that I felt the cold rage start in my stomach and rise up - and I turned around, and he had the shovel in the air.

“Don’t you DARE throw that at me, you beep beep beep!” But he did.

The fierce, menacing rumble stopped us both short. Drunk as he was, the neighbour froze, his eyes widened in terror as he stared at Grump. I swung out my arm out just as the pit sprang at him.

“No!! No, no Grump! Come!” This time it took a moment before Grump obeyed, but obey he did. There was no bite, but his gaze was fixed on the man. It wouldn’t take much for him to jump again. Still touching his collar, I repeated the call to Louka and Smooch; they came to me immediately.

“Take care of your dogs, you A-hole!” I managed to spit out. “They’re hurt, all because you’re a pucking idiot!”

My dogs beside me, I stomped through the bush toward home.

The rug rats were still at the top of the hill, calling down to me, worry in their voices, asking if I was okay. For shame; they had heard everything. I had just shown my grandsons a perfect example of what NOT to do.

I answered that yes, I was fine. When I joined them, I was still raging inside, now as much at my own stupid reaction as at the carelessness of the drunken idiot neighbour. I didn’t even realize that I was limping until the Nalou inquired where I was hurt.

A week has gone by and my foot is still swollen and painful. It’s twisted, and the only thing to do is to stay off it. Try doing that with 3 rug rats, 3 dogs, 2 cats and a bird!

The injury to my pride is worse; I believed I had a cooler head, a certain sang froid. I console myself by attributing it to the frustration of a seemingly hopeless and frightening situation. There have been repeated warnings from all his neighbours, more than one visit from the police...yet those dogs are still let loose when he goes on his binges. It’s a shame for the animals; it’s not their fault, but that of a master too ignorant to even own a canary!

I did tell the town vet about it when I went in with Grump; a sort of precaution if ever I do have to shoot the dogs before we get the fence up around my property. She agreed that, God forbid, they would probably have attacked the children if my dogs had not been there to distract them; their mentality has become that bad. She was also quick to tell me that I could be proud of my own canines; they are not killers, because they stopped when told. They were only protecting us, as good and loyal dogs should.

For a couple of days, imagining my hand slapping that bugger silly was the only thing to bring out my SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec