The Pig And The Dog

The Pig and the Dog

I remember this one time I was out back the house and had a just gotten this Guinea Pig (I traded Bryan Tyson an ankle high stack of nudie books) it got loose on the way home, I chased that damn thing for an hour before caught it.
Anyways, I took it home and within one week that little mother fucker smelled up my whole bedroom and threaten to consume the upstairs entirely.

Mom had enough, "That thing's got to go".

I went over to Bryan's house, Guinea Pig in tow.
Bryan's mom (Sue) answered the door.

"BRYAN COME ERE", Sue bellowed as she swung her head back in what seemed like an attempt to throw her command up the stairs.
The sound of rapid footsteps followed.

Sue motioned for me to enter as she retreated back in to the living room.
The Tyson's had their own special scent. Have you ever smelled the inside of a vacuum cleaner bag?
Well imagine huffing a Dirt Devil inside a Waffle House on Fish Fry Friday, and then you may have some appreciation of their aura.
I approached Bryan as his foot hit the last step on his way down.

"I can't keep this", I said thrusting the animal to him.

"Well, I don't want back. I just got a new dog and they aint gonna get along very good".

"If he's tryin to leave that thing here...Bullshit, just take it walkin Scotty." Sue offered her definitive solution.

"My mom said not to come home with it anyway"

Bryan got a little gleam in his eye, not unlike the look he had when he first stumbled across my stash of nudie books, "Lets kill it!"

"How...what?". I was shocked, not by his answer, but by my quizzical retort.

My first thought threw me off. Would I kill this creature? Could I take its life?

I searched my mind and tried to conjure a decent thought. My morals seemed to be on holiday. Bryans odd request was somehow not out of the realm of possibilities.

Bryan has, at all times, been a bit touched. I always suspected something blasphemous between him and his little sister Connie. Perhaps all the brothers had played a hand in stripping the virtue from the girl. Lord knows she was fucked up and headed for a life time of positive tragedy. All of tribe Tyson had an eccentric air about them; they weren't neighborhood bullies per se, just bizarre amongst themselves. This is what attracted me to them and ultimately lead to our friendship. The roster line up, from oldest to youngest, was Larry (my age), Bryan, Joey and Connie Sue. All were steeped heavily in the white trash culture. Monster trucks, Evel Knievel, downward mobility and cultural bankruptcy are a few of the symptoms, and oh yeah violating your sister.

The days spent with the Tyson's were always an adventure and this day proved no different.
As I pondered Bryan's submission, he snatched the beast and headed for his room upstairs. I trotted behind him wondering what his plan was or how I was to stop him and save face.
In the upstairs hallway on the way to his room I grabbed his arm and swung him around.

"Seriously Bryan, we can't kill it!" I had gained some sort of compassion.

"Why not?" He looks as if I had told him that the days of congregating with his sister were over.

"It's just... it's just not right, that's why." Am I really having this conversation?

"Look, you gotta get rid of it; I can't take it back..."

"So the only answer left is... to kill it?" I pulled him closer and whispered the latter near his ear.

With that Bryan lunged for the laundry chute, opened the door and tossed in the ball of fur. The high pitched squeal resonated through out the house as it desperately scratched the walls of its aluminum descent.
I looked on in horror. I can't believe he just did that. I raced down the steps towards the basement, Bryan hot on my heels.

"What the hell was that?" Sue yelled to us as we darted past the living room. "Bryan git your ass in here, now!"

While Bryan was detained I continued to the basement. I could hear the animal screeching inside basket below the chute.
I was so consumed with the wellbeing of the guinea pig that I didn't notice the newest member of the family lurking in the corner of the basement.

As I approached the basket, I was pleased to see that the animal appeared fine. Although it took a thirty foot fall, it landed in a pile of unwashed clothes.I gently scooped up the pig in my hands and it burrowed in to my jacket. All was well, it seemed a bit shaken up but nothing was broken.I turned to head back up the stairs; that's when I met Brut, no doubt named for his shear size. I felt all the blood drain out of my face and strait back to my heart.

Of course you'd have a full grown American Bull as your new dog, makes perfect sense.

This fucking thing is just smiling at me, bearing all 320 of its teeth. As it lowered its head I could see the muscles rippling beneath its thin coat of fur. As I called out to Bryan I noticed my voice was trembling along with my body.
The pig must have picked up on my body language because before I knew it the damn thing wiggles right out of my arms. It hit the floor with a dampened thud. With that the behemoth lunged at me. I sidestepped the attack only to realize I was not the intended target. Within a fraction of a second the dog had the pig. The beast looked up at me with pride in his eyes and what looked like a full beard and began to shake its head violently.

Bryan finally made his way down to the basement. I was staring wide-eyed at the dog as it shook the life out of my pet.
I summoned what little courage a boy my age, in this situation might have and grabbed the dog by the neck collar. I stood behind the great monster pulling the collar back in what must have looked like a very lame rodeo scene.
Bryan came up behind me to help, I thought. Suddenly he has me in a head lock from behind. The more I pulled on the dogs collar the more violent he shook the pig. Blood from the furry creature began to spray about the room and on us.
I pull harder and harder, trying to choke this flea-bag dead. My efforts do not go unrewarded as the beast lets loose it prey. The pig went flying and landed against the far wall and fell to the ground. I immediately released the collar, shook Bryan off and ran to its aid. To my amazement it was still alive, barely breathing and immobile, but alive.

I picked up the battered ball of bloody fur and went outside.
As I walked to my house the pig started to screech and squeal loudly, I could tell that the animal was going to die.
I couldn't take it in to my house like this, both of us covered in blood; I found some newspaper in the trash and wrapped it in it. I left it on top of the picnic table to rest in peace. It continued to scream, but now a little softer, I went in to the house.
In the bathroom I looked in to the mirror; small droplets of blood covered my face and jacket. I reached out with my trembling, blood soaked hand and turned on the faucet.

As I rinsed my face I started to cry. The episode had finally sunk in and would, like so many to follow, etch itself on my psyche.
I rested for a while and thought about the twisted turn of events.
After I woke I went out to bury the pig. I opened the back door and made my way to the picnic table. I couldn't believe my eyes the guinea pig was still alive. Hours had past, I was sure it would be dead. It was in obvious pain and suffering greatly.
I left it wrapped in the paper and took it to the corner of our yard grabbing the spade along the way. It wormed around underneath the print as I lay it on the ground. I grabbed a brick from the so-called garden my stepfather had fashioned months before.
I was really going to kill it; I needed to help it now...right? This would be merciful would it not?

I looked down at the newspaper as I raise the brick in my right hand; an ad for Sokols Furniture was glaring back. I swung the brick down with one forceful blow flattening the print below. I buried the pig and even though I'm not at all religious, said a little prayer.