A Dog Story

 

It was a shiny new jet-black pickup truck with a dog in the back.  A big Pit Bull.  Judging by it’s size, it must have been a male.  The pickup was stopped at a light on Ventura Boulevard.  There was another car between my car and the truck.   I watched as the dog, with its head hanging out over the bed, moved from the front of the truck to the rear.  I wondered how it could do that, as the dog’s owner couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to give an animal that much leash in the bed of a pickup truck.  Or maybe, I thought, the dog isn’t restrained at all?  Is that possible?

Not a good idea.  Particularly with a big Pit Bull.  It was trouble waiting to happen.

The light turned green, the truck pulled away, and that was that.  Or so I thought.  A couple of blocks up the road I made a right to find the path was blocked by a car that had stopped out in the roadway.  Ahead of the car was the black truck.  The dog, partially under the left rear tire, was choking as it dangled from a long chain attached to something up in the bed of the truck.  Two men had exited the truck and were assisting the animal.  I can’t imagine that it wasn’t injured but I do know it was alive, as it was pathetically wagging its tail in appreciation for the rescue.

I don’t know how far they dragged the dog before realizing it had jumped out of the truck.  They got the animal back inside, in the cab this time, and drove away in no apparent hurry.

I must admit to having let loose with a couple of expletives attached to statements about dog ownership and ignorance as I continued on my way home, thinking that the two men in the tuck didn’t have the common sense to rush the dog to a vet.

Some people should not be allowed to own dogs.

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