Spare the Pets, Put the Owners to Sleep

What kind of irresponsible person leaves the front door open and drives off to the airport? No one wants to be robbed after all. No one wants criminals and unwanted varmits slipping right through the frontal defense of their castle, right?

I suppose there are some people that don't feel like they have to be so careful: those that trust their neighbors completely, those that live in extremely low crime areas, or those who always have someone at home, armed to the teeth and itching to whack a prowler. And then there are the types who say "I don't need a burglar alarm, I have dogs."

In my line of work, I frequently ask that question - Do you have a burglar alarm? When the potential client uses dogs for home protection, I become alert: This guy might cost me a lot of money if his dog rips some kid to shreds. So I ask, "What kind of dog do you have?" Most answer that they have a schnauzer or golden retriever or some benign breed like that. But every once in a while, the answer is pit bull or doberman or rotweiler and you can tell by their voice that they can't wait for that day when their dog finally gets to rip some unsuspecting tresspasser a new one.

I don't insure those people.

One such man lives down the street from my sister-in-law (SIL). Once while walking SIL's little Jack Russel terrier, Lucy, a large German Shepherd and a Boxer came bounding out of this man's backyard and ran straight up to Lucy and me. They sniffed and growled at Lucy until I shooed them away. They were not scared of me, just tired of sniffing Lucy. SIL said she'd had a similar experience with those dogs.

A week ago, SIL and family went to Belgium, leaving Mrs. Wit and me in charge of her sweet pup. We've done this several times before, as SIL's hubby, BIL, is Belgian, and they visit home at least once per year. Lucy loves me dearly, mostly because I don't just show up and feed her during these absences, I always walk her and then hang out and snuggle with her on the couch and watch tv. Even when Lucy's family is in town, I take Lucy for a walk nearly every time I visit.

Mrs. Wit drew the first visit after SIL left for Europe, and decided to take Lucy for a spin. No one had ever told her about the aggressive dogs on the next block. Sure enough, as she walked down the street, Mrs. Wit noticed an open door. The door was suddenly filled by a huge German Shepard and a Boxer. They only hesitated a second before running full speed at Lucy and ripping her right off the leash. The two dogs each grabbed one end of Lucy and fought over her like she was a sock, with lots tugging, yanking and thrashing.

Mrs. Wit, hysterical and too terrified to place herself in the middle of the fray, instead went into the house and screamed for help. No one came. She went to the next house and pounded on the door. No one answered at two more houses, though she saw the front curtains part. She tried to stop a man driving Mercedes. He slowed to watch the carnage and the sobbing woman, but drove on without acknowledging her anguished pleas.

Finally, a woman came out from across the street with her phone, dialing the police as she jogged toward my wife. The police said they would not come unless the dogs attacked a human, or if a human attacked a dog, but not if one dog attacked another. They suggested she call the Humane Society. The Humane Society said that they would only come out for a stray dog, but it sounded like all the dogs had homes, so no dice.

By now, Lucy had stopped struggling. In fact, she had stopped moving at all. The two large animals stood over Lucy and sniffed her. The canine orgy of violence had spent it's last spasm. An ancient man with a cane appeared in the open doorway and called the dogs in a foreign language. The dogs ran inside. Mrs. Wit screamed and ran to the man but, "No! No!No!" was all he said before he slammed the door in her face.

Mrs. Wit bent over Lucy's bloodied body and saw some shallow breathing. Amazingly, Lucy was still alive. A van pulled into the driveway and a short, skinny Italian man in his late fifties stepped out. The other woman explained that his dogs had just attacked Lucy.

"No, No, not my dogs! They never get out!" Mrs. Wit screamed at him that if he lives here, then those were his dogs.

"No, No, It could be anyone's dogs!"

Mrs. told him to shut up and take her to the vet, which he did.

To be continued...