[Dean Romig]

Rusty's a fairly common name for a Brit. I had a wonderful Brittany that was given to me by a friend who's circumstances changed so drastically he couldn't keep his dog who was 2 and was also named Rusty by my friend. I kept the name because I just liked it. Rusty was a good bird dog but we didn't have any grouse in my area then - just a few pheasants lingering from the good old days and good numbers of woodcock. Rusty was very good on both but his weakness was rabbits. I could never get that sumbitch to quit running them.

Then in Feb of '79 I crashed my car into a tree. I was hospitalized for almost to months and when I got home I was in a full-leg cast for another 4 months and I was in depression for years later but went back to work every other day in Boston.
One day at work I received a telephone call from a neighbor saying Rusty was lying on their lawn and wouldn't/couldn't get up. I rushed home and drove th the neighbor's house and got my crutches and hobbled to Rusty... Rusty was barely alive. He had a tiny blood spot high on his flank. I lifted his lip and saw that his gums were about pure white. I was holding his head and talking softly to him and then he died in my arms. I couldn't lift him and carry him so the neighbor gave me an old blanket and I rolled Rusty onto it, picked up my crutches and dragged rusty to my house three houses away. I dug a hole in my side yard but before I buried him I just HAD to know what that blood spot was and why it killed him... so I autopsied him. I discovered that a .22 bullet had killed him. The bullet entered high on his side just behind his ribs and exited through the soft flesh just above the hip on the opposite side, severing the dorsal(?) aorta on the way through.
I was beyond consolation over this for a long, long time. The neighbor said she thought she remembered hearing a shot but didn't put 2 and 2 together and didn't take notice of where the sound came from.

Several years later, after I could no longer retaliate because the guilty party had moved away, a good friend who was a firefighter told me who had done the deed. The police had investigated and learned what had happened but it was "just a dog" and didn't chase the guy out of state. My friend had learned the truth from a cop but chose to keep me in the dark for my own good.

Sorry to have hi-jacked your thread Tom...


Here's me and Rusty shortly before his untimely demise...
Losing him sure didn't help my depression.


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