Should We Kill Him?

I’ve had my doubts about the new generation of kids not learning common sense and problem solving but I take it all back.  And it took my six year old grandson to set me straight. The following is a true story.

I took my young grandson, Jase, down to the park the other day. We were playing catch near the tennis court  when I dropped a perfect lob and lost the ball in some sticker bushes.  Hey, I’m sixty-six and not quite as limber as I once was.  I went back to the car to grab a golf club to help fish the ball out of the bushes.

In the dog run adjacent to the court a man showed up with his pooch. A big burly fellow with a happy go lucky yellow lab off the leash.  I have found in my experience that people who bring their dogs to public places without a leash are  typically self-centered, control-freak assholes. This guy fit the bill.

The dog was running through the obstacle course when all of a sudden he decided to turn heel, hop the fence and sprint off through the park.  The man started screaming, waving his arms and yelling his fool head off while pressing a remote control. Obviously, the remote was for one of those fucking inhumane electric collars that is supposed to shock the dog into submission and reign him in. It wasn’t working.  I smiled.  I was hoping the batteries were dead.

The guy was beside himself and making a huge scene.  Yelling at the top of his lungs, –Motherfucker this, motherfucker that, I’ll fucking kill you when I get my hands on you, don’t ever fucking come back,- and so on and so on.” I was rooting for the dog.

It turns out I knew the guy. He was my idiot neighbor who I have previously had words with. A few weeks ago he came up to our apartment to complain about the noise my grandsons  were making running around. At 6PM no less on a Saturday.  My son appeased him as I just walked away.

I guess I don’t have to tell you that I don’t like the guy and don’t need much of an excuse to crack him one.

He’s not a little guy. He has me by about a head and about fifty pounds in the gut but I’m not about to let him get away with swearing and abusing an animal in front of me and my grandson. What kind of shithead would I be if I let that go on. Just as I am about to confront him I feel a tug on my shirt. It’s Jase.

I can see it in his eyes. Jase is terrified.

And here’s how the conversation went—

-Poppa, Can we go?

-No. Why?

-I’m scared Poppa. Can we just go? 

-No we can’t.

I was getting angry now. So I said to Jase-

-Listen, I’m gonna go over and say something to that man. You don’t ever be afraid of anyone. Especially when you are with me. If he comes back at me, you watch, I’m gonna wrap this golf club around his neck. You have nothing to be afraid of.

-Ok, Poppa.

Jase seemed to relax a bit. He pauses, cocks his head a bit and then says calmly,

-Poppa?   Should we kill him?

He was dead serious. And he was six years old for chrissakes.

I’m not embarrassed to say, I busted a smile and actually considered it, but said,

-Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

-Ok, Can we go then?

-No. We are not going to leave because you are afraid.

-I’m not afraid, Poppa.  I’m bored. Besides—you stink at playing catch.

We left the playground with our neighbor standing alone in the dog run, his face a shade of crimson and the dog long gone. As we drove home we saw the dog a few blocks away with some skateboarder teens on their way home.  His collar was gone.  Either the kids had taken it off or it fell off. He had made some new friends and hopefully he was getting adopted.  We beeped the horn and the dog barked back at us and the boys waved a pinky and thumb in the surfer hello and playfully rubbed the dogs head.

Jase looked at me and held his hand up for a high five.

Poppa, Good thing we didn’t kill that guy.

– Why’s that?

-Because the cops would’ve came and taken the dog to the pound and that would not be a good thing and he wouldn’t get to run off with those boys. Look how happy he is.

-You’re right, Jase. Good thing.

 

 

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