March 12, 2005


Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.

Middle School
Brownie was a stray dog. One day he just showed up with a bad, bad cough, a low slung head, skiddish ways and a fast wagging tail. He would not come near me at first. He would just cough and wag his tail. Fiannly after several weeks of me coxing him to get closer he licked my hand for the first time. My mom said he was a stray and not to let him to that. Plus we had no idea where he came from and if he was a nice dog.

By the looks of him, he looked like a dog that had been beaten. The way he held his head down, like he was being very submissive and the way his tail wagged. He did not really lift his tail up to wag. It also was down...almost between his legs when he wagged. I think that where ever he came from he escaped. Escaped most likely with his life and a cough to boot. After a while , we began to put food out and he began to eat. The cough persisted but we still could not get close enough to really pet him. He was so very skiddish.

He knew that his new home was with us. He was a watch dog. If anyone got near our house he would bark. He was a loud barker and did his best to watchover us. Finally after several months he would come to me and I could pet him for a little bit. I think all in all we had him for about 2 years. He was a yard dog. We were never able to really tame him or keep him on a leash or get him into the house. He was a yard dog who lived in our back yard. Kind of like squatters rights. He set up home in the back yard and it was his new home.

The one bad thing he liked to do was chase cars. There was no stopping him from that. He would be two streets over and I could hear him barking. Well one summer day after about 3 years of his coming to us, there was a knock at the door. The neighborhood kids came to tell us that Brownie had been hit by a car. He was still alive. I was distraught and wanted to go to him. My mother refused. She sent my father instead.

My father came back with Brownie. His back --lower back-- had been broken. He had no use from the waste down but could still crawl around with his two front legs. I immediately began to scream and cry that we needed to take him to the vet. He was a yard dog, stray, but he was our dog. My parents refused saying that it might cost a lot to help him. That did not matter to me. I thought he was in pain and needed help. Plus the site of him was killing me inside. His back legs were useless, he lay on his side and tried to push up on his front legs to move aorund. He licked my hand. I refused to leave his side. Eveyday, all day, evey hour, every minute I begged my parents to take him to the vet. I even told them that with his legs not working he may be put to sleep but even so, he would be out of any pain he might be feeling. My parents refused. I continued to cry.

I stayed with Brownie. My parents did let him come into the garage because he kept crawling away. I cleaned up his urine. I cleaned up his feces. I still begged my parents to take him to the vet. The continued to refuse. After a week of begging I awoved anew that I was not going to give up. That poor dog needed medical attention. I continued to beg. I stayed by Brownies side. I did what I could. I began to think that my parents were evil and that very mean. They were and since that time they have proven that fact over and over and over again. They were--are-- very cruel, evil people.

I had lifted Brownie out of the garage and took him to the back yard just to get a little air and to pray over him. Once on the grass he began to crawl around. He was moving very slow so I did not think he could go very far. I went inside for about 30 minutes and then it began to rain. I ran outside to bring Brownie in the garage. He was no where to be found. I began to panic. I ran the entire back yard, the front yard and on both sides of the house. No Brownie. It began to pour. I was drenched. My mother called for me to come in. No way could I do that. Brownie was missing and I was the only one who cared.

We had a big back yard and the behind our house was a large drainage ditch about 6 feet across. My parents had put in a line of poplar trees along the ditch to act as a sheild. When it rained that ditch filled up very quickly and was very very deep....about 6 feet deep of swirling , muddy water. I ran to the ditch calling Bronwnies name. I ran the lenght of the line of the poplar trees and when I got to about the middle of the yard, I saw Brownie. He was down in the ditch. The sides were not level so he was actually just above the swirling water on a muddy outcropping on his side. He looked at me with the kindest eyes. I do not know if he wanted to drown in that ditch or not but he was not...not on my watch. I know that hurt animals will crawl away to die and I felt like that was what he was doing. I just could not leave him with the water rising in that ditch.

I stooped down and put my foot down on the side of the ditch, wedged it in and scooped down and picked up Brownie. I brougth him back to the garage. I dried him off and sat with him for the remainder of the evening. He looked at me with sad eyes and licked my hand. I still begged and begged to take him to the vet. My mother still refused. My mother went out to the mall and was gone for several hours. My father was home alone. I called the vet and told him the situation with Brownie..about his injuries. The vet said that most likely he will have to be put to sleep. I told this to my father and I begged him to take me and Brownie to the vet now while mom was not there. He was like a spineless jellyfish all the years of my life. Whatever evil thing my mother wanted, he went along with. If I could get him alone, I could change things just a little.

He agreed. Brownie and I sat in the back seat. I talked to him and told him I loved him. I petted his head and he licked my hand. I prayed him a good journey to doggie heaven. When we arrived at the vets office my father would not let me go in. I had to sit in the car. Maybe because I had already done so much crying for the past week, he did not want me to cause a scene. Maybe and this is what I think it is. Maybe he would be able to tell the vet this just happened today and not a week ago. I did not tell the vet when it happened. I just called to see if there was any way he could be saved given his condition.

I knew that was the last time I would see Brownie. My father put him in a cardboard box and I waited in the car. He was in there for about 30 minutes. He came back alone. He said Brownie had been put to sleep because his back was broken. I cried anew. I cried all the tears of anger and hate I had for my parents for the past week. I cried for the awful cruelty they placed on Brownie and on me--just a small child begging with a broken heart for her dog that was in need of critical care. (and of course my mom was mad when she found out what happened)

I have never forgiven them for what they did to Brownie. I was to see this again and again. Pets were very short lived in our household and they were expendable in a heartbeat. I always think of Brownie fondly. I was even lucky enough to have taken some pictures of him with the Kodak 110 Instamatic camera I used to have long ago. I do not need a picture to see him. Brownie's image is forever burned into my mind's eye.


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