INSULT

 Insult I will never get over

About ten years old.  An insult happened and I feel the pain of all of it today.  over half a century later. I had the best dog in the world. Name was Bowser.  He was a mutt my dad got somewhere or other and he played with me and my brother.  He went with us. If a bigger kid tried to bully either one of us...Bowser was there and his bared teeth and low growl put an end to any of that!  We played football with him in the fall and in the summer we explored the woods and creeks with him. 

At that time,  we lived in a new subdivision in Sellersburg called "Woodhaven".  There were quite a few teachers or people connected to the school living there.  Also,  other young families.  My dad contracted and built the house at 824 Poplar.   To the east of Poplar and running parallel was the much longer Dreyer Lane.  On it was the site of the Dreyer farm which had been there decades BEFORE the subdivision was built.  "Old Man" Dreyer and his family lived there.  They had cattle and ....behind our house about a 1/8 mile from our back door...a farm pond.  Ducks were on it sometimes. 

Our family also had a pet cat at this time.  She had kittens.  Our old dog Bowser loved to play with them.  He would pick the kittens up by the nape of their neck and walk around with them.  (never bit them or broke the skin).  

My dad could not afford to build a fence at that time.  So Bowser would 'hang around' the house and we had to watch him. But we couldn't always watch him and I guess he got up to some mischief.

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It was a summer day.   I looked up and two armed men  showed up in our back yard ...just off the patio. "Get your dad out here" one said.  They were carrying shotguns.  I wasn't sure what to do...but before I could do anything...my Dad showed up ...walking through the sliding glass door that opened on to the patio.   It was a scary scene.

"What's going on" my dad said.  

"You better keep that damn dog of yours tied up and OFF our property!" the older man (who I learned was 'Old Man Dryer')  "He's been on our pond and killed one of our ducks"

"Ok. We didn't know he'd been there." my dad responded.

"He carries them around by the neck and breaks their neck...If he shows up over here again...I'm going to blow his head off." (and he shook his shotgun). 

At that,  the two turned and walked back across our yard and through the empty lot between ours and Dreyer Lane to their home.

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Never forget that scene. I learned something about what people were that day. Also, learned my dad wasn't scared to face angry men with guns.  

Later, my dad emphasized how we needed to be more vigilant with Bowser. And...because we did not have a fence,  dad rigged up a dog trot by attaching a chain to the clothes line Bowser could run up and down on when he was outside.  Dad also but a chain on Bowser's doghouse. 

My brother and I slept in a bedroom in the basement.  Bowser used the chain to drag his doghouse along the house far enough so that he could sleep next to the basement window where he could look in on me and by brother when we were sleeping. That's one helluva dog!

These measures seemed to take care of the problem with the Dreyer farm.

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The summer passed and school started up again.  When I would get off the bus...the first thing I would usually do was go unchain Bowser.   But, one day.... I went to the back yard and he wasn't there. I asked my mom. She didn't know.  "Your dad will be home soon".   I don't recall, now,  where all we looked for Bowser...but I do recall that I found him...he was lying in under some brushy bushes at the edge of woods down the street.   He was bloody all over.

My dad carried him home.  Dad cleaned him up and examined what was wrong.  It didn't take long after the blood was cleaned off. Bowser had taken a blast from a shotgun. The pellets were in him all up and along one side of his body.  He was in shock.  It must have been quite a blow. Dad could not get all the pellets out.  "What's going to happen to him?"  I asked.  My dad told me we would take care of him but time would tell if he would survive...or not. 

Bowser lay on his makeshift bed of old rugs and towels...not moving for three days.  We fed and gave him water by hand.  But he would not get up. We could not really tell how he was doing. 

We figured out that he'd gotten loose from his chain while we were away at school.  We deduced he'd gone back to the pond and this was the result.  We did not speak to the Dreyer family.  

On the fourth day of  Bowser's convalescence,   I came home from school.  I recall that my mom and dad were already home.  Bowser still had not risen.  Dad encouraged me to go out to the garage and see if he might get up for me.  So...I went out to the garage.  "C'mon Bowser...c'mon good dog".  Bowser saw me and then....very gingerly and feebly...he rose ...and walked a few steps to me.   Every day after that he got better. 

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This is not the end of Bowser's story.  But this is the end of  the story of how I have a hurt and a wound and a grudge...to this day...to those two men.  Old Man probably long dead.  But I can still feel the insult he gave me, my family and my dad....and I will not forgive shooting my dog.