RETRIBUTION

Like many of you, I enjoy watching “The Animal Planet or National Geographic” channels on television. A few nights ago there was a program on dog fighting. I found myself time and time again holding my hand up to cover my eyes from watching the pure butchery and barbaric practice of this “so called sport!” That really drove me crazy hearing those who participate in this ritual calling this a sport! Naturally the dogs that were used for fighting were Pit Bulls. However, many times other breeds of dogs are used as the bait dogs. So it’s not unheard of a German Shepherd being thrown into the pit for sheer amusement. A German Shepherd although a force to be reckoned with, is no match for the bone crunching jaws of a Pit Bull!

Dogs are stolen from people’s backyards, cars, etc. Also sometimes dogs get “adopted” from shelters and used for bait dogs. Be careful who you sell your “pet” puppies to. Often with the economy being what it is, sometimes breeders are forced to sell their pets at a reduced rate just to get them into a “good home!” Be very careful, these types of “people” are lurking all over the place looking to snatch up dogs and puppies for their perverted pleasures. It’s unfortunately a harsh reality.

Dog fighting has gone on for years behind closed, secretive doors. What is shocking now is that it has been brought out on to the streets……called street fighting dogs. What’s even more shocking is that children have become involved in this revolting practice starting sometimes as young as 9 years old! The children have learned as the adults before them to become desensitized to the pain and terror of the animals used for this “sport!” Taken from the book shown here in this article: "Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, and Animal Abuse".....Evidence is mounting that animal abuse, frequently embedded in families scarred by domestic violence and child abuse and neglect, often predicts the potential for other violent acts.

I’m happy to report that authorities have gone undercover to expose some of these dog fighting rings and have locked away many of it’s perpetrators. It’s good that the public is becoming aware of what is happening to some very unfortunate dogs used and bred for fighting.

More and more media coverage has exposed some of the animal abuse that is taking place in some parts of our country. If you “Google” German Shepherd Dog abuse, it will bring up many revolting and disgusting stories of this nature. They are beaten, tortured, starved, sexually abused (so incomprehensible), but true. Those that would choose to do these things are deeply sick in the soul and my wish for them is that these same abused animals that suffered at their hands are the faces that they see on their way to hell!

We call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they don’t suffer less because they have no words. Anna Sewell (1820 – 1878, Black Beauty, 1877)

Wild animals never kill for sport. Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself. James A. Froude (1818 – 1894)

Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it. Mark Twain (1835 – 1910, “The Lowest Animal”

I wrote RETRIBUTION four years ago and put it on some of the e-mail lists that I belong to.

RETRIBUTION
By
Barbara J. Galasso

Degradation, filth, decay and death perforates the air for miles around the ten acre compound locked behind the place known as the gates of hell. But the only ones who know this place are its residents. And these residents will never get out exposing the secrets hidden behind these walls.

The gates of hell are located many miles outside of town down a long dusty dirt road that few venture to drive upon. It's private property with cross bones as its markers warning "No Trespassing". And few if any want to trespass this lonely backwoods area on the outskirts of town anyway. What people don't know, doesn't bother them is their motto. Leave the unknown alone, and the unknown will leave you alone is how they think about this place.

If one dared to walk on foot through the thick bush and weeds that grow randomly along the sides of the road, the stench would surely turn them back to the village again. But if one were brave enough to continue to venture further out of curiosity or ignorance, they would never be quite the same again. Their memories of what they seen would turn into a living nightmare that no amount of sunshine would wake them from.

For you see the residents here would not greet them joyfully or welcome them. They would be suspicious of the stranger and one might hear a low menacing growl as he grew nearer. If they had any strength left in their already dying bodies, they might try to stalk the stranger from the other side of the fence. As the stranger would approach, the dogs would step back and with teeth bearing from their sunken in heads, the mud drenched body would shake from fear.

The stranger would see piles of carcasses lying randomly around the cluttered property. He would see dogs that were living without a morsel of food or a drop of water in their bent in battered tin bowls thrown around the dirt kennels like a forgotten rag doll. Dog houses with roofs long ago caved in and the sharp edges of nails protruding from where they used to hold the timber together hang swinging in the breeze. The sight of rats running among the kennels would not be unusual.

They would see dark sunken, soul less eyes peek out from lifeless faces that long ago lost their will to wag their tails. Dogs who once greeted their master enthusiastically, now cower in the corner too afraid to come closer or too weak to be interested.

The proprietor of hells gate comes out sometimes once or twice a week during the night after he's had one too many drinks to taunt and tease those who are left to care at all as he walks by each kennel eating a sandwich in one hand and carrying his bottle of whiskey in the other. The younger dogs whimper still hopeful for a morsel to be thrown their way. The older dogs barely lift their heads. But it's the last run in the dark corner that houses the more vicious dogs that are just to the point of the beginning of starvation that he plans to demoralize tonight. He calls them to the gate by tempting them with a piece of his sandwich. He throws a piece into the dogs kennel and he delights in seeing them fight one another for a slim chance for one of them to get a tiny morsel of food. Blood is drawn as the smell of food gets the better of them and the frenzy begins. The drunken man chuckles out loud in the pitch black night enjoying the ring side view of dogs in battle to survive. One dog lies mortally wounded. "Oh well, another one to add to the pile," he laughs to himself.

The other dogs turn back to the man with the sandwich waving in their faces and they charge the kennel. He laughs again and with each laugh that grows louder, the dogs jump harder against the kennel. He picks up a stick to poke them with and the enraged dogs tear and bite at it and shred it to pieces. They charge at him again. He bangs the fence with his fist and screams profanity at the dogs. He continues to chuckle as the whiskey overtakes him and he slides down the fence to crumble to the ground in a drunken stupor. Only it's not just the fence that he slides down. This time he slides down on the fence with the gate on it and in doing so, his shirt catches the latch and unbeknownst to him or the dogs, the latch quietly opens. As he mumbles to himself, he slowly drags himself back up. He goes to raise his hand up in the air to bang on the fence again and this time one of the stronger and larger of the dogs jumps against the gate. The gate opens with a rusty squeak, and the dogs are released from their gate of hell for the first time since they were born. Cautiously at first and then fiercely they charge through the gates to freedom. The drunken man seems to sober up fast as the dogs come face to face with their tormentor. He steps back in bewilderment realizing there's no longer a fence between him and the starving abused dogs. He throws the rest of his sandwich and whiskey bottle towards them and runs in the opposite direction deeper into the darkness of the night. He hears jaws snapping and growls roaring as they close in on him.

The stillness of the night is shattered by one horror filled scream. Some of the dogs won't be going to sleep hungry tonight.


My rating: animal abuse: (0) dog fighting: (0)