[Phil Yearout]

Dean's story brought back an unfortunate memory. When I was in college I got a Springer pup. Took her home for the summer; my dad was unhappy, said how was I gonna take care of that dog at school? I said I'd figure it out. I named her Lucretia, but dad couldn't ever pronounce it right and he just called her Crissy. Dad was devoted to Nip, our family dog. That summer old Nip was run over and killed; it broke my dad's heart, and when fall came I just couldn't take Crissy away from him. They became inseparable; she'd ride beside him in the pickup with her front feet on the dash.

Shortly after I went back to school Dad looked out in the field near the house and saw something white; sure enough, it was Crissy. She'd been shot. I don't remember how dad found out who had done it, but it turned out to be a home town kid; someone said he drowned a whole litter of kittens the same day, just for fun. Dad confronted the kid's dad, and he said, "It's just a damned dog." All Dad asked was that the kid bury Chrissy, but he told the father, "That kid is gonna kill somebody some day."

A few years later a bunch of kids were at a party; the shooter was one of them, and sure enough, a kid ended up dead, shot. I really don't remember the rest of the details. I always wondered how the shooter's dad felt about that.

My dad never got over it. When he retired and he and Mom sold the house, he said the hardest thing for him was leaving when Nip and Crissy were buried there.

Sorry for the downer.