Dog Fighting Two

Sorry it took me so long to get back to all of you but I've been busy, what with being herded around by this cat and all! So to continue; I got to my new home and promptly got into a bit of trouble. Dad raised his voice and I took off around the house and found an empty dog house to hide in. Dad tried to coax me out but I wouldn't come. After a bit he crawled in and hugged me and gave me a treat. I knew it was OK to come out. I've since learned that these people and other animals I share my home with are the best family a girl could have. So I was reading the news the other day (don't look at me that way, of course I can read! You see me writing don't you?) and I ran across the indictment of Michael Vick for dog fighting. I read all nineteen pages of it! It looks like they've got some shady characters willing to spill the beans on him. His lawyers may get him off but the deed as they say is done and the cat is at the food dish! Many southern men think of dog fighting as a sport, much like cock fighting and no big deal. Well it is just like cock fighting, but it's a big deal. Folks get hurt and die because of it. Both animal and human. The money for these endeavors come mainly from the sale and use of drugs. I know because I've seen it and can smell it a rabbits run away! Most damning is the knowledge that he had a rape stand on his property! This is a device that allows a breeder to breed females that are far too aggressive to let a male near them. This is only used for fighting dogs because no honest breeder will breed that kind of female! As far as the breed of dog goes I don't think most American Bull Terriers have evolved to the point that they can be considered any thing but fighting dogs. My test is to see if they are aggressive to humans (it doesn't matter the breed) and if so put them down.
In the case of Mr. Vick and his friends the truly heinous thing is what happens to the dogs that lost or refused to fight. As I heard on the radio this week Mr. Vick should be allowed to compete on the football field this year for the Atlanta Falcons. If he looses then it should be his turn to be electrocuted, or hung by the neck, or body slammed till dead. All of gods creatures deserve the love that I have, but not all creatures are gods.

Dog fighting

For those that don't know me, I'm Reeses the Doberman Pincher. I belong to Tom and Mrs C. Tom (my dad) calls me Beans because I'm a Red Doberman. He likes Cajun food and red beans is a favorite. I'm going to tell you a little bit about my life before I was rescued by the C's, I was trained to be obedient and took many a whoopin if I didn't understand what was asked of me. My master put a plastic garbage bag over my head and nearly killed me because I got into the garbage one night. Now I run at the sight of them though Tom tries to console me. Our job, my family and I was to guard a meth lab in Lexington county. The food was scarce and the love was non existent. As soon as I was able to have babies I was made pregnant by a dog named Brutus. I didn't have any choice in this matter. My pups were taken away at an early age and I've no idea what happened to them. One day the sheriff came to the property with a bunch of men and my master let us out of our kennels. I ran and ran. Hunger followed many days until I was picked up and put in doggy jail. I was in a cage with a lab named Bob that wouldn't shut up....ever! I think he barked in his sleep. I heard that I wouldn't likely be adopted out because of my breed. They only let Doberman rescue society members take us and their homes are full of all the dogs that were bred to fight and otherwise be mean and obnoxious. It soon came to my attention that some of the dogs were killed after a period in the kennels. Mostly the ones that can't be adopted out, like me. I learned that tomorrow was to be the day they put me down. All I could do was cry. About lunch time a man and two women came to see us dogs. Everyone got up and started yelling pick me pick me! I just stood there knowing I wouldn't be chosen but then they opened my cage and took me out! They took me out and left Bob in! I heard the old dogs whisper that the older woman was Miss Jo of the Doberman Rescue and she had brought Mr. and Mrs. C to see me! To make a long story short, I went home with Miss Jo spending the afternoon with her two dogs.At about five pm Mr. C came and put me in is car and took me to his house, the place I now call home. continued....

The Dance

Life it seems is one big dance between the predator and the prey. What most people don't realise is whom is whom. When I hold myself up to the mirror I see the prey, but I know the amount of havoc that resides within my soul. To see clearly I'm the predator..... or am I? The answer is the same for me as it is you, we are both. The degrees differ between the souls and the time of life.... (whats going on) but you can eat as well as be eaten depending on the day and the evil brought by said day. This all has to do with how I choose to view the beings that come into and out of my life. (if you aren't watching your fellow man then you're missing the greatest show on earth) I'd like to talk to you about some folks I've met in the ghetto where I work, some are prey and some are not. First up is a white male named Bill (name changed for his sake)that I think is a slightly deranged Viet Nam vet. Bill is about as self sufficient as anyone I've ever known, growing a wide variety of food on an inner city lot feeding himself and many others. Sometimes he has no choice as his watermelons are easy game. I have several fruit trees growing in my yard from his cuttings and whips. He is most definitely prey to those around him and has the bruises to prove it.
I met a man named Andre' the other day, as he wandered into the shop to get out of the rain. It is most unfortunate but any time a black man comes into our shop without a car you know he most likely has no good in his heart. When it is raining we don't give anyone a hard time as long as they stay out of the way and by the door. So in walks Andre' and he just keeps on coming and chatting all the way. I had some time to kill so I spent a few minutes talking to him. He told me that he was from Angola. He had made it to Texas about seven years prior and was now on his way to the upstate where a job was waiting for him. He was riding the big grey dog (Greyhound) but couldn't stay in the bus station due to the thugs and other elements there. I assured him that he would be safe in the shop until it was time for him to board. He then asked me why those black people didn't work. I told him that some were indeed working but that their work was to prey upon the weak. I can't begin to tell you how excited he was to be going on a new adventure and to have a job waiting. I hope god watches out for him as he is most certainly prey. We have a man that comes in to get water out of our water cooler from time to time. He is a black man with no legs, and so uses a chair to get where he wants to go. He has a business cleaning the wheels on cars in the college area by the bars and restaurants. What he is really up to is panhandling. He will sometimes begin to clean a wheel without asking and get you to give him money to stop. This works well on the lil college girls and the prim office ladies. He intimidates the hell out of them. I guess they're afraid he's going to jump up and chase them? So the local merchants got together and tried to have him run off. Said that he had no business license. No but what he had was a big gun lawyer that liked his wheels clean on his car, also liked the mans company at lunch sometimes. He has a license now! What he didn't have was a way to keep the rain off. I saw him the other day coming in from a gully washer. He looked at me and said he thought he'd drown before getting there. I gave him the umbrella out of my car for the next time he got caught out in the rain. I've no idea whether he is prey or predator.

The madman returns

Well after about three lost posts and a very busy time I've finally got a lil time and google working. I didn't get to do a fourth of July post but will mention that we went to a neighbors for a party. While there I got to talk to Sgt Don of the U.S. Army. The host threw his back out and Don stepped in to do the cooking for the whole crew.... about thirty people. Don will be leaving for a second tour in Iraq about the first of the year. I didn't ask very many questions about tour one because I didn't feel it was right. He did tell me that he was in Mosul in 03. I thanked him for his many years of service and wished him well. He did say one thing that I wasn't able to find the time to ask about.... He was glad to be going back to Iraq as opposed to Afghanistan. He did tell me that he tried to soak up as much history while there as he could. I did ask if the uso packs we send were appreciated and delivered in a timely manner. He replied that the packs were a godsend and the phone cards much needed. He went on to say they really depend on the USO.
In other news my Daughter and Son inlaw were in a wreck, totaling his new Ford truck. Both are ok (thank god) though Daughter was out of work for two weeks.
I'd like to mention a few charactors from the hood where I work but that will be for the next post.