Yes, busy. but ot too busy for my pet story! I have told this story once or twice (or maybe more) here on Fluther, but here goes again:
My Dog King
King was a collie shepherd and he is the first dog I remember being “my” dog, although technically he was my older sister’s dog. From the time I was first allowed to leave the yard without supervision, he was my constant companion.
So by the time I was a little older, about 11 or 12, everyone in the small rural town knew that wherever young Strauss was, King was not far away, and that if they saw King, they would soon see me or one of my siblings.
About that time, one of the neighborhood boys, who had a mean streak, was with me and some other kids from the neighborhood. He had a stick, and was teasing King with it. King did not like it, and warned the boy with a low growl, and then barked at him. But the boy persisted with the teasing. King finally had enough, and snapped at the stick. When King caught hold of the stick, the kid had been holding it up, and King’s teeth accidentally grazed the boy’s nose and drew blood. If it had been one of us other kids, it would just have been a neighborhood scrap, and parents would talk, and decide that boys will be boys. But since King was a dog, the authorities were called in and King had to be confined for observation to determine if he had rabies.
So we kept King locked in a picket-fenced area of our yard. He was not allowed to run the countryside as he was used to, nor were we allowed to play with him for the ten days of observation.
Meanwhile, along comes the kid. Another stick, a picket fence, and the dog safely on the other side. The kid ran the stick along the pickets of the fence. This really irritated King! He ran to the fence and barked at the boy. The boy persisted, and continued to taunt the dog, poking at him through the pickets of the fence. That was enough for King! He grabbed the stick, tried to pull it through the fence, and in doing so, he caught the boys finger. Bloodshed! Minor scratch, but it was from the dog’s mouth, and that was all it took. We either had to put King down, or otherwise get rid of him.
One of the families we knew from church lived on a farm. The older kids were all grown, and had moved on to their own lives. There was a younger child in the family, Mary, about six at the time, who had Down syndrome. It was agreed that King would make a good companion
for her.
It was sad to say goodbye to King. The last story I heard about him was about a time when the Mary had gone missing. When they found her,
King was with her, “herding” her along the frontage road, but away from the main highway.
TJBM has another pet story.