Oreo was a strong dog, strong willed and muscular. She also was very smart.
She was a black lab, and had a leader of the pack type personality. Oreo under-
stood everything you told her, stop, stay, fetch, sit, roll over; all the
things you teach your pet. However, Oreo only did these things when she wanted.
Buddy was a stupid dog. He couldn't sit and didn't understand stay. His one eye looked
to the right and the other looked down just a little bit. I don't think he
knew his name because when you called him, he didn't show up. He did like
to ride in cars though. Maybe thats what happened to him because one day
he just vanished. Poof! He was gone.
It sounds sad that someone would steal a family pet and most families would make
flyers and staple them to trees in the neighborhood wanting to find their dog!
We, on the other hand, just looked under the deck to make sure he wasn't dead or hurt,
but no one cried that he was missing. Most of us were holding back smiles and
making jokes that we would charge a fee to retake ownership or we would act
like we would pay one another for the disappearing job. Like Hoffa, he was gone!
It was a good day or so we thought.
I can remember laughing many times because Oreo would not let Buddy eat until
she was finished. Buddy couldn't even drink unless Oreo let him. Buddy had to wait
at the door until Oreo came in or out before he was allowed to go through. If
you gave Buddy a treat, he would have to put it on the floor and wait until Oreo
got hers and ate it, and then he would wait to see if Oreo was also going to take his. Most
of the time, Oreo would take it and if I made Oreo let Buddy eat his, then
Buddy would be in some sort of trouble with Oreo and Oreo would not let Buddy
in the house for a whole day and night. No matter what you did, Buddy would
not come in the house.
The night before we realized Buddy was missing, he would not come in, so I just
thought that Buddy was in the dog house again and never gave it
a second thought and let the stupid dog stay outside. It was o.k. with me
if he didn't come in; it was really a treat because you didn't have to re-
peat every word to him 15 or 16 times to get him to do something, like
"come here".
We use to cut his fur short in the summer, but as he was a stupid looking dog
we gave him stupid looking hair cuts. My favorite was the mohawk! We would
shave him to the skin except for the middle of his back and would leave it long.
He was so stupid looking, but somehow it fit him, and he would dance around
and be proud of what we had done to him. Robyn and Wendi would look at me like
I did something rotten to the dog, but even as they looked disappointed in me
for my creativity, I still saw them try to hold back a belly laugh. Smiles
would show up on their faces because it was a damn funny hair cut and it
fit the damn dog!
My nephew, Abe, hated this dog and asked me why we had him, and I
answered, "I don't
know". The moment we brought him home, I knew we had made
a mistake because the dog
walked into the house, turned his butt to
me, squatted, and
dumped on the floor! You never knew if he was looking at you; you didn't
know if he could hear you. If you told him to sit in order to give him a treat,
he would be looking somewhere else, and once you thought he was looking toward
you, you could toss the treat, but it would bounce off his head and then he couldn't
find it. In order for him to catch anything, you would have to act like you threw
it, wait for his mouth to open, take aim, and toss it in his open mouth.
If he realized he caught it, he would get excited that he was able to do such a thing!
We had dog beds, large cushions, one for each dog. Oreo would not
let Buddy use either and if Buddy took a chance and used one, then
Oreo would walk over to the sleeping Buddy and stare, hovering over his head.
Buddy would wake, get up off the bed, Oreo would lay down, and Buddy some-
times would go to the other bed and look at Oreo to see if it was o.k.
One night, Buddy went to the back door and started barking like someone
was coming into the house. Oreo went to go check out the action and when
I went to see what was going on, I found nothing, so I came back to the living
room, only to find Buddy on one of the beds. I laughed at this thinking Buddy
used his brain to con Oreo, but it wasn't so, it turned out, Buddy was
just barking. After that night, he just barked. One time he acted like he
was looking at the tree barking. He barked at the fence; he barked at the
air; he just barked. We never knew why, but he barked.
Even today, almost two years after Buddy vanished, no one misses him. Well,
maybe Wendi,but her husband is glad Buddy is gone. Kevin was afraid after he
married Wendi that he was going to get Buddy, because Wendi and Buddy were friends.
When Wendi came home from work or school, was the only time Buddy came to life,
breifly. I used to tell Kevin that if he takes Wendi, he takes Buddy. So.....
maybe Kevin did the Hoffa thing?
As it turns out, Oreo missed Buddy. The first two or three days, all was o.k.
But after that, Oreo was miserable. She would prance back and forth, come
running up to me or Robyn and stare wanting us to find this stupid dog. Robyn
had to walk Oreo all over the neighborhood so Oreo could hunt. As time passed,
Oreo became worse. She started crying out loud, staring out the doors and windows and
for days she would not go off the deck. The second week, you could not live
with Oreo. She was broken up, angry. She was angry with us for not finding Buddy!
She cried out loud now often. She couldn't sleep.
She started chewing things, grieving. She would pee on the floor. She was punishing us
because Buddy went away! Everyday she got worse. Time didn't help. Now she
was crapping on the floor. She wouldn't eat much. The crying, crapping, and misery
was all we could take. Oreo was becoming aggressive. She was pissed off that her
Buddy was not home.
We could not believe Oreo was so upset because she had always treated Buddy so crapy. There were
times, I felt bad for Buddy because Oreo treated him so badly, not often, but sometimes.
No matter what we did, Oreo just got worse. She could not rest. I couln't take it
anymore. Everyone by this time had stepped in some crap and when I did, that was it!
Oreo had to go. She was snarling at us, crapping on the floor, peeing on the floor.
She had to go.
What I should have done was take her to my dad's for a week or two to see if the change
would have snapped her out of her mourning, grieving, dispair. What I did, was stepped
into another pile of crap and sent her to the pound.
Oreo was my dog. She was an ass. She was bitchy. She had a sense of humor. She liked
candy. She was like me. We got along great most of the time. We had our differences, and
I had to win every battle to be respected, to be the leader of the pack. I had to
be the boss. It was a real battle during each step of this process.
It started outside our yard. This dog thought she was the boss of me. When I reached
for her collar to bring her home, she bit me. So it was on. I had to win. I had to
fight my dog, to be the boss. Here we are, on Main street, two blocks away from our home
fighting. Could you imagine what passerbyers were thinking? Seeing a dog and a man fist
fighting and the dog biting me? But, I won. Oreo knew I won; I knew I won. I was the
leader. I was bleeding, but I won. Robyn's eyes were big as half dollars! She could not
believe what I just did! I couldn't believe what I just did.
So we went to the vet and he told us that this dog will do this to me until I win outside
our yard, inside our yard, and inside our house! I thought we have to get rid of this dog!
I don't want to do this. Hell, I could go to jail for fighting a dog. That's worse than
if you spank your child! I told everyone to say goodbye to Oreo that next morning as they
left for school. Some were crying, but Oreo had to go.
When everyone got home, Oreo was still there. I thought maybe Oreo won't make me go through
all this as I kicked her ass once. But I was wrong. In the back yard, again she bit me,
made me bleed, all because I told her to go in the house and she wouldn't. So I go up to her
and chomp! She bit me! This time I was pissed. I kicked her fast and all the way to the house. I
just wanted to mow the grass, but I won, but again I told everyone to say goodbye.
Oreo didn't go anywhere that day either. There is one fight yet to happen. One day as I
got home, Oreo was in the trash. I scolded her and she just kept on in the trash, like I
wasn't there. I walked towards her and she showed her teeth as a warning. I couldn't stop,
after all, this is my house; Oreo didn't make the payments. She bit me. I am bleeding. I
make a fist and swing, she catches it, and I am bleeding more. I use both fists, bam, bam
bam, back and forth. I am swinging both fists back and forth; she is growling, biting at me.
I have holes in my skin. I am bleeding. I am in pain. Don't stop I hear myself saying, keep
hitting her, win this fight!
I dive on top of her, still banging out the blows. She is still biting at me. I clock her good and
she yelps. I hit her with a side hook, she gets out from under me and comes after me! I thought
I made a mistake, I thought I was going to lose this fight. I got up on my knees and
double fisted her six or seven times as fast as I could. She had to see stars I thought,
she lays down with her head up. She rolls over to her right side, and puts her paws up. It's
over. I lay my hand on her neck and push firmly. She just lays there. It is over! I won!
I am shaking. I am pissed. We started this fight in our kitchen and it ended in our bar,
at the back door to our deck. I open the door and Oreo walks outside. I close the door.
I thought thats it, I am not going to do this again. She has to go! I call Robyn and tell her
what just happened. She asks what am I going to do? I say I am going to get rid of her, we
can't have this going on. While I am on the phone, Oreo is looking at me through the door
wanting to come in. I turn my back and walk to the sink to get cleaned up. I have six bite
marks that are bleeding.
That evening, someone lets Oreo in the house. She runs up to me and uses her nose to make my
arm and hand go on top of her head. She sits down looking at me. She is smiling at me. She
lowers her head down and wants to make up with me. Just as I pet her, she jumps in my lap
and puts her head in my belly. She is hugging me. She gets down and dances to make me smile
and wants me to follow her. I do. She takes me to the bar to her food bowl and scrapes at
it with her paw. I know now that the fighting is over. There is going to be no more. I start
smiling at my dog Oreo. She is my dog now, I am the master of the pack.
From that day on, no matter what I did, I was being watched. If I clanged my truck keys,
she knew it was for her to come with me. We went everywhere. She cared for me. I could
walk her without a leash. I cared for her, I miss her.
We went back to the pound the next day to buy my dog back; I had made a big mistake. I wanted my
dog, my friend. She was already taken by someone. What do I do now, she is gone and they
won't tell me who has her. How can I be so stupid, so short tempered and quick to get rid
of her because I stepped in some shit? But I did! I left my dog when she needed me! How do
you get over that?
It was the best thing for the dog. At least I tell myself that. She has a new home, new
surroundings and she cries no more......By now anyway! I bet she remembers me and she forgives
me. I forgive her. She is still my friend, and she is welcome here. If I ever see her
I will tell her I love her, and ask her to come home.
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