More dog stories...

Today I posted the following column at The Common Voice: A close encounter of the canine kind. I wrote it because of what happened to The Greenville News editor Beth Padgett. Her experience reminded me of one of my own.

And then more came to mind...

I remember when I was in Junior High. I had a mutt dog named Rowdy. He was a great dog. One day, I looked out into the front yard (it was nearly an acre) and saw Rowdy fighting with a Doberman out near the country road. With tears in my eyes, I ran out there yelling and throwing things.

The Doberman backed off. Rowdy was in a bad way. He skulked under some bushes there in the front of the house and lay panting. I crawled beneath the branches with him and held him in my arms coaxing him to drink some water. I didn't realize at the time just how hurt he was. However, looking back I realize that his neck was open and he was bleeding to death.

My dad had to pull me away covered with blood. I don't know exactly what happened after that, but I remember my parents telling me Rowdy was dead. He had given as good as he got, only the Doberman had a thick collar around his neck - which I noticed later was pretty chewed up.

Now, my dad is a very soft spoken man. It takes a lot to get him angry - or at least to get him to express his anger. However, he and I drove over to the house where the owners of the Doberman lived. My dad knocked on the door with me standing beside him. "I just want you to know that your Doberman just killed my son's dog," he said. "I also want you to know that if I ever see that Doberman in my yard, I will shoot it."

It was one of those moments when you just know your dad is the greatest dad in the world. I miss you, Rowdy. I love you, Dad.