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My father loved to breed and show his Airedale Terriers. His dog Molly was an obedience champion for three or four years, resulting in a room full of trophies, silver platters, and other such bric-a-brac. I slept in that room when I visited him.
He had a special guy come out and teach him how to train her. I wasn’t there very often, but I remember seeing him a few times. My dad would usually stay out to work with the dogs even after the guy left.
You know that feeling you get from a deep cut or gouge into your flesh, where after the original stab, there’s that feeling pulsing all through your arteries and veins, a throb of panic that settles into your flesh and freezes? That was the exact same feeling I got from the sound Molly made when the man she loved more than the totality of the rest of her world twisted her ears for trying to play during training time.
Thank God he never loved me enough to do that to me.
Happy Mother’s Day.

He had a special guy come out and teach him how to train her. I wasn’t there very often, but I remember seeing him a few times. My dad would usually stay out to work with the dogs even after the guy left.
You know that feeling you get from a deep cut or gouge into your flesh, where after the original stab, there’s that feeling pulsing all through your arteries and veins, a throb of panic that settles into your flesh and freezes? That was the exact same feeling I got from the sound Molly made when the man she loved more than the totality of the rest of her world twisted her ears for trying to play during training time.
Thank God he never loved me enough to do that to me.
Happy Mother’s Day.

(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-09 12:47 am (UTC)