TRAUMATIZED! by Doogie

This is Doogie the family dog filling in on behalf of Big Dave who was on a weekend retreat in Ohio with wife Wendy. Their eldest son Greg was charged with taking care of me. What follows now is a tale of terror and horror not for the squeamish. Read on if you wish but you have been warned.

Greg and his girlfriend Lindsay own a Boston Terr(or)ier named Simon. They say he's just a big hyper puppy. No! He's a ferocious brute-- constantly trying to pick a fight with me, shredding my chew toys and stealing my treats if I'm eating too daintily. So he was going to be my weekend companion. That's great, just great. What elderly toy poodle mix wouldn't want a hungry Cujo for a playmate.

At least they brought Cujo's, er, Simon's cage with them. He stayed there during the day while my dogsitters worked. I felt somewhat safer but I'd feel even better if the bars were reinforced with titanium, steel barbs, razor wire or something like that. Luckily for me, Lindsay stopped by in the afternoon to let us outside into the fenced-in backyard.

Maybe somebody should have told Lindsay that we have another occasional resident in our backyard. He's a big bunny who Big Dave and Wendy think was probably born in the ground cover by the patio and feels like home here in our yard with the squirrels, flowers and doves. It's like a Disney movie paradise where all the animals frolic together in harmony.

Unfortunately, Thumper was in the wrong place at the wrong time. So our Disney backyard morphed into an episode of Wild Kingdom. Actually, it was more like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And I a witness? Never was there more a candidate for doggie therapy afterwards.

It gets worse, trust me.

The screen in the patio door is occasionally loose to the point that dogs like myself can ingress and egress without troubling the masters to let us out and in during the summer. So Simon dragged his prize into the front room where Lindsay was watching television. And she didn't even notice! Hel-LO! Where is the supervision here?

Lindsay continued to watch TV with that brute at her feet. She knew that he had something there but figured it was just another of my chew toys. Uh lady, none of my chew toys are of the organic variety. Finally, Simon jumped up on her lap and she sees that he's been feeding on something (remember, I warned you). FINALLY, she looked down at her feet to see the remains of our poor resident rabbit.

That sent her fleeing from the house, taking her killer dog with her. She called for me to come out too. No thanks lady. Back out into the backyard? I don't think so. I've already seen Thumper assassinated. What's your attack dog going to do next--take down Bambi too? I'd just have my little psycho-meltdown inside.

Greg came by later and got rid of the evidence. No matter. I'm willing to testify in a capital case if any authorities are reading this blog. I'll even take a T-Bone or Beggin' Strip as my witness fee.

Next time Big Dave leaves for a weekend I hope he finds me better quarters. Even the Bates Motel would be an improvement.

Unfortunately, the only picture I have of the culprit is many months old. Don’t let the moony-eyed puppy stare fool you. Evil lurks within those eyes. If you see him, don’t take any chances. Get inside, lock the doors and call the police.