Site of the Night-The Humane Society Of America
No funnies, no joking, no sports. Your Site of the Night is The Humane Society of the United States.
What brought this on? Well, in an act that could only happen in the backwoods, I spent last night having to console my 70-year old father after some dumb little son of a bitch shot his beloved chow down just for the pure hell of it. I’m a dog lover, and if someone did this to my husky there would be no hole that the sorry sob could crawl into that would keep their head attached to their body. Cruelty to animals in un-fucking-excusable and is a distinct sign of extreme mental-illness in my opinion. I don’t know who did this terrible act (and honestly it wouldn’t much matter if I did), but I do know that there is a special seat next to the furnace in hell waiting on you buddy. I just wish that I had the opportunity to coat you in keroscene before you got placed there. Now I don’t you’re reading this, because I doubt that you have that capability, but if you are just know that I hope to God that you have nightmares for the rest of your life. I know that I’m probably going to get some offers from kind folks for another dog, at this time my dad doesn’t want one, he’d had Bear for nearly four years, had had him since he was a month old, and was too used to him following him everywhere that he went to have another one right now. Thank you for giving me the time to vent and I’m sorry to be so heavy. But I just wanted to personalize for a minute to those of you that think that cruelty to animals is cute. I’ve got a good friend who has a cat that has only three legs because someone put a bullet in him. There’s a part of me that wants to drag the whole Mike Vick thing into this to vent and yell, but I’m not going to, I’ve said my piece on that and I don’t have an agenda here with this post, other than to use it to say this: if you’re looking for somewhere to donate a little money, your local animal shelters and no-kill rescues can use all the help that they can get. I’ll be back to the jokes, vandalism, and general tom-foolery tomorrow, but tonight I just don’t give a damn about who the Cavs are playing or whether or not the Hawks take game five from the Celtics. I don’t care about Danica’s boobs, John Daly’s boobs, or who got fired from the NBA today.
Until next time,
THE BEST PLACE TO BURY A DOG
“There is one best place to bury a dog.
“If you bury him in this spot, he will
come to you when you call - come to you
over the grim, dim frontier of death,
and down the well-remembered path,
and to your side again.
“And though you call a dozen living
dogs to heel, they shall not growl at
him, nor resent his coming,
for he belongs there.
“People may scoff at you, who see
no lightest blade of grass bent by his
footfall, who hear no whimper, people
who may never really have had a dog.
Smile at them, for you shall know
something that is hidden from them,
and which is well worth the knowing.
“The one best place to bury a good
dog is in the heart of his master.”
— Ben Hur Lampman —
from the Portland Oregonian Sept. 11, 1925
[AKA “If A Dog Be Well Remembered”]
[AKA “Where TO Bury A Dog”]
Sleep tight old friend you will be missed.
(poem from here)
