Chapter 41 (Animals I’ve Known and Loved, cont.)
“Guard Dog For Sale”
I was always running on empty… so when I stopped for gas at Van Dervort's when I was pressed for time, I couldn’t get the tricky gas cap off. It was the kind under the license plate and almost touching the back bumper. The pipe had shifted a little and sometimes I couldn’t get the gas cap off easily. I had a roast in the oven and had to get home, so I ended up impatiently slamming the pump nozzle back in the slot of the pump, and tore off for home on the dregs of the tank.
About two hours later, a patrol car came up the street and turned into our driveway. A uniformed officer started towards our house on the front walk. The only convenient place to place the dog run had been from the front steps to the Maple in the yard which was now large and strong enough to support the run with a big dog struggling to attack this tasty uniformed man. Seeing Claude out there may have discouraged some visitors, but it was the ONLY place we could have put him. And, because Claude didn’t like strangers… uniforms… or males, this policeman fit the bill for public enemy no.1. As he took his stance of a tightly wound killing machine, and started growling at the officer, the cop guardedly reached over to his gun. Fortunately we were out front and grabbed Claude off his dog run and shoved him into the house. The policeman said, “You’d better be careful having a dog like that." I was shaken by his reaction to Claude, like he’d have shot first asked questions later if we weren’t there, more than what he had come for. He explained that someone had seen me attempting to put gas in my car and then drove away without paying, and had made a note of my license plate number. I told him about our tricky gas cap and that I had pumped no gas… and that the people at the gas station knew us personally and of my problem tank. Satisfied, he left. Later the people at Van Dervort’s apologized for the incident… they didn’t see me personally, just got the license number from a citizen trying to be helpful.
Finally Claude tore up a little male poodle in the owner’s own backyard when Claude followed August down the hill to where our neighbor, Mr. Bracken, had told him there was left over wood for one of Aug’s many construction projects. After paying that vet bill and suffering the embarrassment of such an incident, you think we would have said, “Enough!”… But when Claude scared a Little Leaguer in uniform who was collecting money for Vestal Little League, chasing him across the lawn like he was fresh meat, we decided Claude had to go.
In September 1977, we found a good home having advertised him as a guard dog… and that HE was! Several days after he was at his new home, the woman let Claude out without tying him up and he ran away. We both called every dog shelter in the area, but I didn’t place a lost dog ad in the paper. We kept an eye on the “Lost and Found” ads to see if anyone picked up a dog of his description, but never saw hide or hair of Claude again. I figured he was either dead or happy, for with Claude, there was no two ways about it. We had sold him for $35 and I hadn’t deposited the check. I told the woman that I was ripping it up. Explained that I only asked for money to have someone take the dog seriously. Giving him away you never knew what was to happen to him.
It’s strange how long a lost animal affected me. For years I would do a double-take each time I saw a yellow German Shepherd. We knew he was out there somewhere--dead or alive--and the not knowing his fate bothered me more than if I had found out he died. It helps me to understand what others go through when they’ve lost someone or some pet that is part of the family. There is something in us that needs to know… no matter how mean the truth. I guess that’s what is meant by closure.
“Guard Dog For Sale”
I was always running on empty… so when I stopped for gas at Van Dervort's when I was pressed for time, I couldn’t get the tricky gas cap off. It was the kind under the license plate and almost touching the back bumper. The pipe had shifted a little and sometimes I couldn’t get the gas cap off easily. I had a roast in the oven and had to get home, so I ended up impatiently slamming the pump nozzle back in the slot of the pump, and tore off for home on the dregs of the tank.
About two hours later, a patrol car came up the street and turned into our driveway. A uniformed officer started towards our house on the front walk. The only convenient place to place the dog run had been from the front steps to the Maple in the yard which was now large and strong enough to support the run with a big dog struggling to attack this tasty uniformed man. Seeing Claude out there may have discouraged some visitors, but it was the ONLY place we could have put him. And, because Claude didn’t like strangers… uniforms… or males, this policeman fit the bill for public enemy no.1. As he took his stance of a tightly wound killing machine, and started growling at the officer, the cop guardedly reached over to his gun. Fortunately we were out front and grabbed Claude off his dog run and shoved him into the house. The policeman said, “You’d better be careful having a dog like that." I was shaken by his reaction to Claude, like he’d have shot first asked questions later if we weren’t there, more than what he had come for. He explained that someone had seen me attempting to put gas in my car and then drove away without paying, and had made a note of my license plate number. I told him about our tricky gas cap and that I had pumped no gas… and that the people at the gas station knew us personally and of my problem tank. Satisfied, he left. Later the people at Van Dervort’s apologized for the incident… they didn’t see me personally, just got the license number from a citizen trying to be helpful.
Finally Claude tore up a little male poodle in the owner’s own backyard when Claude followed August down the hill to where our neighbor, Mr. Bracken, had told him there was left over wood for one of Aug’s many construction projects. After paying that vet bill and suffering the embarrassment of such an incident, you think we would have said, “Enough!”… But when Claude scared a Little Leaguer in uniform who was collecting money for Vestal Little League, chasing him across the lawn like he was fresh meat, we decided Claude had to go.
In September 1977, we found a good home having advertised him as a guard dog… and that HE was! Several days after he was at his new home, the woman let Claude out without tying him up and he ran away. We both called every dog shelter in the area, but I didn’t place a lost dog ad in the paper. We kept an eye on the “Lost and Found” ads to see if anyone picked up a dog of his description, but never saw hide or hair of Claude again. I figured he was either dead or happy, for with Claude, there was no two ways about it. We had sold him for $35 and I hadn’t deposited the check. I told the woman that I was ripping it up. Explained that I only asked for money to have someone take the dog seriously. Giving him away you never knew what was to happen to him.
It’s strange how long a lost animal affected me. For years I would do a double-take each time I saw a yellow German Shepherd. We knew he was out there somewhere--dead or alive--and the not knowing his fate bothered me more than if I had found out he died. It helps me to understand what others go through when they’ve lost someone or some pet that is part of the family. There is something in us that needs to know… no matter how mean the truth. I guess that’s what is meant by closure.
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 12/05/2007 11:47:00 PM
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