Don't Make Me Kill Your Dog

Saw a dead calico housecat, run over, at the highway's edge. It hadn't been dead long. Its plumpness told me it'd been somebody's pet. Oh, when they find out; how terrible. Unless they are like some people and think the country is a place to dump their pets.

I'm seeing cats scattering into the field when I pull up into my road at night. They kill and eat mice but also bunnies and whippoorwills. Dogs chase everything. Six or seven times I've blasted the car horn at dogs trotting on Hwy F. They thought I was playin'. I fear that one day out walking or working I'll meet a pit bull the owner dumped because it was too expensive or loco to keep. When I see a dog barreling toward me I no longer assume it's a neighbor and friendly. I pick up a rock. Don't make me do that.

Let your pet out in the country and it won't be adopted. It won't become a barn cat, or go native and care for itself. It's used to your sofa. It'll get killed. Have mercy; please take it to a shelter. Better the needle than what I saw today with a crushed head and liver hanging out.