Earth Day is the Name of My Dawg

"Well, Sir," I said thinkin' to introduce myself and givin' him my name, but there was somethin' about this fella that I didn't like and I don't like shakin' the hand of those who I don't like. "Since I found my dawg on Earth Day, that's what I named her. If you ask me, the name fits her, being that she was there at the dump in the pitiful condition she was in, while waitin' for me to find her," I said lookin' at him to see if he understood his words. "Earth Day means diff'rent thing to diff'rent people and my dawg is Earth Day to me."

When I tell this story to most folk, 'specially for the first time, they get all teary eyed, but he didn't. Either he didn't like my dawg, didn't like my story, or both. He was a strange one, that's for sure.

"If it was me, rather than keep a dawg that looked like that, I'd let her die," he said with a mean spirited laugh.

"Woof! Woof! Grrrrrr. Grrrrrr," barked and growled Earth.

When he said that, I wanted to growl at him, too. If he merely judged a dawg by looks, then by his own definition, in the way that this stranger looked with his face all bashed up like that, we should just let him die, too. Unfortunately, this man gave off one too many bad vibes and, nearly pullin' me outta my chair, Earth was just too strong for me to control any longer.

As soon as that stranger said that he'd let a dawg that looked like her die, b'fore I could grab hold of her collar tighter, Earth pulled away from me. Well, let me tell you, that stranger took off runnin' down the middle of the street, as if he was on fire. Now, ev'ryone knows that if you're on fire you shouldn't run, but roll 'round the ground, until a tractor trailer truck runs you over to put you out of your misery, I guess. Ev'ryone knows that if you're chased by a bear play dead and, after the bear mauls and gnaws on you some, and you don't respond, he'll think you're dead and will go away. Only, never havin' seen Earth chase after a fella, I didn't know what advice to give him other than to run as fast as he could.

"Run for your life, Mister," I yelled.

Yet, unless he made it to a door or back to his truck, there was just no way that he was goin' to outrun Earth Day. Never havin' seen a dawg faster than her, with her big, powerful legs and giant sized paws, she's one fast dawg.

Just as Earth was tearin' 'cross the street after this stranger, a beer truck drivin' too fast through town nearly hit the man, had he not jumped out of the way. Figurin' that Earth was squished beneath its wheels, I couldn't look. I was sick.

When the truck jammed on his brakes, by all the yelpin' and howlin' Earth was makin', I feared Earth had been hit'. With the truck in the way, I couldn't see, but I never heard Earth makin' sounds like that b'fore. I figured she was gettin' ready to die and I just wanted to die, too. If she was dyin' and in pain, I'd get my gun from my truck and shoot her, but I couldn't shoot her. I'd have the vet put her out of her mis'ry. I didn't want to live without my dawg. The best dawg I ever had, she's my best friend.

"Earth! Earth! Earth," I yelled to her from across the street. "Earth!" She wasn't comin' and I couldn't see her. She always comes runnin', whenever I call her and I just knew she was dyin'. "Earth! Earth!" I couldn't move my chair fast 'nuff. I needed to be by her side. I need to rub her head and tell her it would be okay. I needed to tell her that she was a good dawg and a good girl, before she died. I needed for her to give me a lick for the last time. "Earth! Earth! Here girl. Come! Come Earth! Come," I said rollin' my chair down the ramp.

I couldn't believe it, when Earth came prancing 'round that truck. Apparently, with Earth chasin' after that man, it wasn't much of a foot race anyway. Earth had already fetched him, grabbed this fella around the ankle, and was draggin' him across the street and pullin' him back to me. That's the Retriever in her and being the Ridgeback breed gave her the size and the strength she needed to drag the man clear 'cross the street.

Let me tell you somethin' 'bout my dawg. When she wants somethin', she goes gets it and, for some reason, she wanted this man somethin' awful bad, real bad. I've seen her stand up against a pack of coyotes and them coyotes backin' down. None of them coyotes wanted to tangle with my Earth. Forget 'bout those puny, little coyotes, she's a lot bigger than any wolf I've seen.

So happy to see her alive and in one piece, I quickly rolled my chair down the ramp and with all the commotion, a crowd had already gathered 'round this fella's Dodge pickup truck. With everyone in town drivin' GMCs, Chevys and Fords, we all know a strange truck, a truck that doesn't belong in town, when we see one. No one in town drives a Dodge. Whenever we see a Dodge, we figure it's a stranger drivin' one and with this one being a Dodge, it was easy 'nuff to spot.

"I know why Earth was itchin' to fetch this fella," said my friend Harley, who had come runnin' out with all the other town folk, when he heard Earth barkin' and growlin', somethin' she never does. Then, when she took off runnin' after this fella, they all knew something was funny with this fella. "Looky here," said Harley lifting a piece of tarp off a box in the back of his truck. "He's got a box full of puppies in here and they all don't look so good. At the very least, they all look like they could use some food and water," said Harley pickin' up the box and removin' it from his truck. "I can see their ribs right through their skin, the poor, little things. I'm gonna call the Vet."

"Hey, put that back! That's my property you're takin' from my truck," said the stranger. "Those are my dawgs. Best you put it back, before--"

"Grrrrr," even though she had a mouthful of the man, Earth was still growlin' and carryin' on. Bitin' down hard 'nuff, she still had a good grip of the man's leg and even though the man was tryin' to stand, givin' him a tug and pullin' him back down, Earth wouldn't let him.

"Before what? Before I call the sheriff," said Harley payin' him no never mind and carryin' the box of puppies in his store.

"Harley, hold up," I said rollin' my chair back up the ramp. "Tell me somethin' 'bout those puppies."

"What do you want to know, Roy?" Harley stopped at his front door, before headin' into the store.

"What kind of dawgs are they?"

"Well, I don't rightly know, Roy," he said looking in the box. "Other than being real cute, if I was to hazard a guess, I'd say they look a little like your dawg, Roy. Yeah," he said looking from Earth to the box of puppies, "they look a little like Earth, a mix of a Rhodesian Ridgebacks and Golden Retrievers."

With this fella constantly disrespectin' me and my dawg by all the bad things he said and with my dawg nearly being squished by a beer truck, I was riled up 'nuff that it didn't matter that I didn't have no legs. I turned and looked back at my dawg. As if this fella was one of her bones, she was still holdin' onto this stranger by his exposed leg, after his pant leg moved up 'nuff for Earth to grab hold of him. Then, when this stranger was just about to haul back and kick my dawg in the snout with his free foot, I gave Earth the command that she wanted and was waitin' to hear.

"Chow down, Earth. Chow down."

Earth took a big, beefy bite outta that man's leg and he screamed like a baby, before gettin' up bleedin' and jumpin' in his crappy Dodge truck and haulin' ass outta town. We called the sheriff and he caught up with that fella on the highway, went to where he lived and found an illegal and unlicensed puppy mill of Golden Retrievers and Rhodesian Ridgebacks. He had another fella workin' there with him and they had a fight 'cause he didn't want him takin' those puppies to the dump, but he did anyways.

His partner cooperated with the Sheriff and they had 'nuff evidence to charge them both with being unlicensed dog breeders, animal cruelty, and littering by dumping dawgs at the dump. The Sheriff also charged this fella with speedin' for drivin' too fast through town, and creatin' a public disturbance by nearly causin' an accident, when runnin' across the street with that beer truck almost hittin' him and squishin' my dawg. The Sheriff took them both to jail.

They was breedin' the dawgs for money and sometimes when the wrong dawgs got together, figurin' no one would want a dog that was half Rhodesian Ridgeback and half Golden Retriever, but if you ask me, solely based on my dawg, Earth Day, they make for a fine an'mal. Anyway, instead of feedin' them and carin' for them, while tryin' to find a home for them, he'd just dump those dawgs at the dump, as if they were nothin' more than trash. He had a couple hundred dawgs in cages, all of them mistreated and malnourished. We never saw that stranger again, but now I have a happy endin' to my dawg's story, Earth Day's story.

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