The dogs

My parents weren’t like many others. They couldn’t be friends with my classmates’ folks. I guess it was alright. Beth lived up the road. I played with her for one year.

In 1976, we moved to the country. It was a big change for me. I liked it. We were surrounded by woods, fields and tobacco farms. At 6 years old, I was good. It was an adventure. I played by myself and the dogs. That’s it. We had an old blond short-hair dog named George. He was cowardly. His with was Pearl who had some black spaniel in her. We also had Seal and Eggroll, the pups of George and Pearl. I did everything with the dogs, especially Seal. She was sleek smooth like here dad though Eggy and Pearl were all black.

I ran off into the woods to play. They played along. They scouted, sniffed and dug, and much and as far as I could go. They were ready.

Since they had hound and spaniel in ’em, they were partial to chicken blood and once they got started chasing them, they wouldn’t stop. I had a level action daisy BB Rifle I got when I was 5. It as the starter model but good for me still. I entered first grade that year.

I rode the bus home as usual. There were three black sisters, maybe grade 4,5, and 6. The youngest was pretty and kind. She wore her hair tied back in a bun and had a smooth hazelnut face. The second was tall and ugly. She had buck teeth and was loud. The third was bossy and ignored me I think. The two older ones talked a lot on the bud and caused Ms. Parker the driver to call them down. The younger one talked in a normal tone of voice. Once as I was hopping off the bus, she held up 4 magic markers, and said, “Jonas, is these yours?” She knew I had some that looked like it in a small plastic 3-ring holder in my notebook. I said, “No, they ain’t.” I hopped off the bus because I knew mine were safe in my notebook. When I got home to look sure enough there was a hole in the plastic pencil bag.

I saw Ms. Parker the next day, the pens in a small cubby beside her left elbow.

“Ms. Parker, those ’r my pens.”

“Dey mine now.” Lorenzola was her name. I wasn’t mad but it hurt my feelings.

Deddy said, “I’m ‘a let the chickens out, so go out, play and guard ’em.”

“OK.” If you watched the dogs they wouldn’t chase the chickens. Well, it turns out I did have another friend, my only real friend. Hid name was Roger, I was 7 by then come to think of it. Springtime.

He saw me paying in the strip of woods between my house and the tobacco field and he called out to me. I immediately went up to him and we played for about two hours. Not a second thought.

About 5:30, I hear, “JONAS! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“He’s comin’,” Roger answered.

“Be quiet Roger!” I heard deddy’s voice and I remembered in that instant, the chickens. I was only 1-2 minutes walk away and as I entered the yard and covered the last 50 feet or so of the front field, I started seeing chicken carcasses and feathers lying everywhere. My dad comes from around the house and yells at me, “See what you did, they killed every single goddamn motherfuckin’ chicken.” We had about 20 chickens or so, and it seemed they were all gone. He whipped out his belt and started whipping me with it right there. It made me pee a little.

We went up to the chicken house and there was one Dominecker Rooster still alive, though he had a raw patch on his back where the dogs had bit into him. His tailfeathers were mostly gone.

“If they killed Babaloo, I’m gonna kill them.” Babaloo was a handsome, multicolored rooster with a tall cone, golden, orange, yellow, green, white, and black feathers, perfect in every way, except his tail feathers were only about 4 inches long. I was crying the whole time and couldn’t stop and he yelled for me to stop.

He said, “Fuck it, I’m gonna kill them sons of bitches.” I followed him into the house and he got the 12-gauge and levered a shell into the chamber. “You stay here!”

My mom pulled up in a brown Corolla. BAWAAM. My mom in fear and anger, shrieked, “What are you doing???!!!”

Deddy had killed one of the dogs, right there by the back door just as she pulled up. It was the small one Eggroll. His 20-pound body withered away with the blast.

I wailed in my room. I didn’t know how I’d make it through this one. It was all my fault and now deddy was mad and had a gun.

It passed in a couple of days. He told mama to take the dogs to the pound. They were stuck in a one-way door and slid down a little chute into the overnight cage. We’d had the dogs for years. Now they were gone, one killed, my best buddies. Maybe someone picked up Seal. She was pretty and young. George and Pearl probably got gassed.