SFUS

I can't talk without crying right now, so I'm going to write. 

This weekend we have some extended family visiting. The weather has been great, hot, but normal summer temps, so we've been spending lots of time outside. My dad was in the front watering some plants when a random dog shows up. The dog, Trapper, goes into the garage, panting like crazy and proceeds to pee on some things and then just hangs out. My dad gives him water and sprays him with the hose to try and cool him off. I come out from the back and see that he seems friendly. I look and his collar has a name, obviously Trapper, and two phone numbers. I call the first number and it goes to voicemail (I leave a message) and the second number sounds like a fax. Then I call Animal Control and they say it's going to take at least 2 hours to send someone out, how about I give them the phone numbers and they'll do a reverse look up to tell me where they live. Ok, weird and creepy, but ok. 

I get the address and think, huh, this could be bad, but what the hell, let's just do a drive by and see what's up. The only thing that kept ringing through my brain was that if Fresa were lost I would hope someone would try and get her home. Aren't we supposed to do the right thing? Isn't the right thing trying to help?

My mom and I drive out to the address and it's a $2 million house on the Sound. Gorgeous. We weren't expecting a nice house. I guess I should have told you that Trapper is an older male that is NOT fixed, so he has huge dangling old balls. He is a German Pointer, looks full bred and has a shock collar on, which obviously didn't work. We're thinking redneck hunter owner. This house looks more like a stage for an L.L. Bean catalog. 

At the house we walk around, ring the bell, walk into the yard yelling - HELLO, but nothing, no one is home. 

We go back to the house, call Animal Control back and they say they'll send someone out. In the meantime my dad has tied Trapper to a tree with a thin rope, but that didn't last long and he bit through the rope and was hanging out on our front porch. 

I decide to sit with Trapper and wait. My Aunt is with me and we give the dog more water and some food. The phone rings and the owner has finally called back and gets our address and is on the way. Interesting enough he is friends with a neighbor down the street and they are actually together so he knows exactly where we live. In the meantime Trapper has decided to wander off the porch and pee on some bushes and sniff around. I'm watching and the next thing I know he is grabbing something in the bushes and takes it out and starts shaking. I don't know if you've ever seen a dog play with a stuffed animal where they grab the toy and just shake like they are in murder mode, but this is what was happening. I started screaming, apparently I'm a screamer, and we think it's a rabbit. The next thing you know my mom is screaming, IS THAT THE CAT, IS THAT THE CAT??? I run over and all I have in my hand is an empty bag of dog food. I am shoeless, but I start hitting the dog on his rear and face while he is shaking our cat back and forth as if she's nothing but a rag doll, and empty sac of stuffing. My family hears the screaming and literally jump over the fence thinking that one of us was being attacked. I now have the dog off the cat and am separating them when my dad swoops in and grabs our cat. My sister and father, in a flash, run straight to car and head out to find a vet. My mom, in the confusion, doesn't realize that my dad got the cat and she's running around to the neighbors, who are all out of their houses responding to the screaming. She is crying, looking for the cat when we realize that she doesn't know that we have her.

When my dad picked her up I could tell she was in bad shape. There was no blood, but I knew after seeing how he was shaking her that there was no way she would survive. 

I grab the dog by the collar as a neighbor 2 doors down comes running up to ask if that was my dog because only a few hours earlier Trapper had cornered and killed his cat. We, in frantic cries, explain the situation and he stays with us while we wait for the owner. 

I wanted to help that dog. I wanted to find his home. I wanted him to stick around so he wouldn't get hurt wandering the streets. I wanted to do the right thing. At one point my sister said, why don't you bring him in the back yard. I wish I had. Why did I let him get off the porch? Why didn't I just let him wander off like everyone else wanted to?

Roxy was part of our family. I found her wandering around Nags Head Woods Nature Reserve over 11 years ago and after no one claimed her I brought her here. She was a cool cat. Not afraid of anything. She still had claws and got a few scratches in before being shaken to death. On the way to the vet Roxy died in my dad's arms. My sister was driving. They brought her home and she now joins a variety of pets buried in our back yard. 

Watching my mom's cat being shaken to death by a seemingly friendly dog is some seriously fucked up shit (sfus).