Sunday wasn’t the best day in the world.
My brother turned up on the doorstep in the morning with the police. Bill, our dog (well, mum’s dog really, but we all loved him) had been killed by another dog. Apparently someone’s (no-one knew who the owner was) pitbull terrier was running around unsupervised and it went for Bill. I wasnt there when it happened, but from what Ian described it wasn’t a nice way to go.
It makes me so fucking angry! Bill didn’t deserve to die that way. He was a gentle, old lump, he never hurt anything, was fiercely loyal and even though he knew he couldn’t do anything to defend us being as small and old as he was, he was always on guard and always on the lookout. He was the proverbial 1 day from retirement, at around 16 years of age, he he was killed by some idiots pitbull, the chav of dogs, some ugly, aggressive shit. He didn’t deserve that, he should have died warm and full, having had his belly scratched and curled up under a blanket. I’m sorry Bill.
The only consolation I can take from this is that at least the shit didn’t go for a kid. I hope the dog gets put down, and I hope we find the owner and can prosecute, anyone with an aggressive dog like that should have the responsibility to keep it on a leash, and their stupid error or downright idiocy and inconsiderateness killed a being I dearly loved and they deserve to be punished, not that money really means anything or will make this better, but at least it will go some way to making at least some good come of this horrible tragedy.
I cried my tears quickly and tried taking the reins of the situation, phoned up the mental hospital and spoke to one of the nurses looking after mum (yes, she is back in the home – took an overdose again, I wish they’d get her fucking meds right). After a bit of a tear-y talk, we decided to go see her and tell her the news. Better she here it while in the mental home rather than home out only to be sent right back in. Dru’s mum kindly gave us a lift up there. It’s a horrible place, I hate it and I wish we didn’t have to tell her there, but I suppose it was for the best. She cried, Ian cried. I watched, I’d become empty and there wasn’t much I could do apart from a half-hearted squeeze of the arm, I let mum and Ian have their moment, they needed each other more than I, and there wasn’t anything I could really do to help them. After the tears stopped, we left. Mum decided to let the vet dispose of the body, which I was hoping for. I don’t really want to be involved in a funeral.
A few hours at home and Dru and I left for dinner with the Sullivans, Ian went home, I hope he is okay. As conversations played throughout the course of the evening, Dru and I’s engagement came up, and everyone seemed to have forgotten we’d told them, weren’t told by someone else, or had thought that the announcement wasn’t serious. It was pretty funny. The topics of conversation quickly touched subjects of ceremonies and wedding stuff to which I couldn’t really contribute. I’m not much of a ceremony person. To be marriage is all about the promise, and symbolic state of transition between a life of two people living to together and a life of two people sharing the same lives completely. How we do that isn’t of that much concern – I just know I don’t want any religion involved. Maybe I’ll feel more able to contribute when this emptiness goes away.
I love you Bill. I’ll miss you.