And Justice for Dog

Wow, I’m sitting here trembling with adrenaline and excitement.

The guy I initially thought did this turned out to be out of town at the time it happened. Bummer. But that also restores some of my faith in humanity and – more specifically – my neighborhood. I’m glad to know I don’t have to worry about my neighbors like that.

The story takes a turn though. I got home from work a little early today and let my dogs out. While they were in the back yard and I was doing some dishes, I heard Hunter barking his ass off. Then I heard the whine of a dirt bike, tearing across the green belt. This is pretty common. Then it got louder and louder, and then slowed until it was right behind my fence. Hunter had stopped barking for some reason, and was just standing there growling at this kid as he sat there looking into my back yard. (I have a fence made of dog-wire.)

I could see through the curtains, Hunter’s hackles were standing on end. Then this kid rares back and throws a brick at him. It missed! He hit the fence that stands between my neighbor’s and my house. Boom! It cracked one of the dried out, rotting slats. Holy shit, I was pissed. And this little cobblerer, as soon as it hit, (my dog is barking like satan on judgment day now) revved up and took off out of my view. I ran outside and looked over the fence and he was almost to the end of the green belt.

I watched as this cobbler stopped and bent over, picking something up. I started shaking with anticipation! I hopped the fence and ran under the tree – like twenty feet from my fence. And I waited. He pulls back up after about five minutes (I didn’t think he was going to come…) and sits there again, this time with his bike facing the other way. And the motor at idle was enough noise to cover my rushing up behind him.

I grabbed this cobbler around the neck and pulled him off his bike – you should have heard him howl – and ripped his helmet off his head. He fell onto the grass and started scrambling to get up. I was like the Japs at Pearl Harbor on his ass. I had taken him by absolute surprise! Then I did what any good red-blooded American would do: I hit him in the face with his helmet.

I was thinking about ghost riding his bike into the woods below, but I thought better of it. I just hit the kill switch so his ass could hear me. And it took everything I had not to just keep kicking him. But I leaned over him and told him that I’d better never see his ass behind my house again. Ever. Then I threw his helmet as far into the green belt as I could – which was about thirty feet – and went back inside my gate.

That son of a bitch lay there long enough to make me start worrying. But I kept my resolve, and just stood there watching him from my deck. And when he finally got up and walked his dirt bike away, I came into the house. His face was pretty bloody. I don’t know what’s broken and what’s not, but I don’t expect to be hearing from him anytime soon, either. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been in a fight. And though I wouldn’t really call this a fight, it sure felt like one. It felt really good. And the adrenaline rush is intense. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Justice is served.

I’m not a violent person by nature, but from my time in the service, I know how to be if necessity dictates. However, that same service taught me not to let my anger get the best of me. I think by not beating this guy to a pulp, I gave him the opportunity to learn from this experience. He can either recognize the fact that I could have buried him in the weeds but didn’t, or he can try his luck and come visit me again.

I won’t be leaving my dogs out back when I’m not at home. I can’t begin to imagine how anyone could take pleasure from injuring animals. He obviously doesn’t live near me so my dog doesn’t really bother him. Hunter only barks at people on dirt bikes as they ride by. It’s fun – he loves motorcycles.

That said, I’ll be keeping an eye out over the next few weeks to see what happens. If he comes back while I’m home, he’ll need to come heavy. If he comes while I’m away all he can do is screw with my property. That doesn’t bother me too much.

I think he was around twenty or so. His bike didn’t have tags, but he’ll be easy to find. The grass is tall and there are good tracks. I don’t think I need to hunt him down though. I’m going to wait and see what happens. If he comes back, I’ve got more.

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