How the Beating Stick ended up in my hands is beyond me. Yet when the sun shined on my silhouette, there it was. Resting comfortable on my shoulder like a Samurai warrior before battle.
My attack plan was simple. Rather than walk out the back door giving ample time to hear my and escape, I would leave through the front door and and sneak across the sound-muffling pavement, and surprise the little shit.
I make my way to the back gate, and what do my eyes see, But a pint-sized brown and white beagle standing two feet from a gap next to a piece of firewood that I put there. He was apparently small enough to work his way around the firewood without even moving it, get himself into the backyard, where he had all the time in the world to MOLEST MY DOG!
Logical human nature failed me at this moment. I raised the Beating Stick over my head and let out a Conan-esque war cry that caught the attention of most of the neighborhood. And I swear to all you reading this, That little bastard-making bastard's eye's doubled in size. He made a mad dash for the gap, but I was too quck for him. I stabbed at the gap, Zorro-style effectively cutting him off from freedom. He was mine now.
I stepped into the back yard. The sight of me caused to beagle to lose all composure and start running in random directions. I stayed right behind him, wildly slashing all the way.
Now, if I may pause for a moment. Some of you may thing I'm a bit to savage or animalistic, let me clear up a few things for you. I'm not a monster, and I wouldn't hit an animal, any animal with a big stick. I adore animals and am not abusive that way.
That said, It still didn't keep me from slashing the snow at his sides just for the sheer primal joy of watching him jump in fear, lose his balance, and slam his testicles into the cold hard snow.
I'm not sure how long the battle raged for. Adrenaline and a fear of puppies pushed me past the brink where I knew neither time nor pain. All I remember is him spot the afformentioned gap and make a run for it. His path was clear, I made a final charge, but all too late has he manged to clear the gap and run for freedom. I was left with my potentially impregnated dog, and a feeling of unfufilled vengance.
With the Beating Stick in one hand, I led Keena into the house. I must have been a spectacle to behold, for the family stared at me with a look of terror, the likes of which I had never seen before. I led Keena downstairs to the room where, you guessed it, I promptly flipped her over, and inspected her purity.
Fear has never struck me so hard. For, resting on the very surface of my dog's private parts, was blood. Visions of broken hymens, vet trips, and a horde of expensive puppies haunted my brain. The last little bit of composure left me. Keena took this fine opportunity to leave. She fled the room seconds before I snapped.
It took many sympatheic individuals to convince me that A. The proportions between the two dogs could not lead to puppies, and B. The blood is probably an indication that Keena is still on her period, and thus could not have puppies.
This incident has left me a little more skeptical of the prospect of being a father. What if I have daughters? If I'm willing to take pot shots at a beagle, what kind of damage could I do to a boy trying to court my daughter? (especially when you consider that I have a stronger love for animals than most humans) Is this the kind of man I'm destined to be. An overprotective father, forever armed with the task of defending his children from the evil of the world? I always figured I'd be a bit more mellow has a dad, who respects the decisions that his children make, and trusts in their judgement.
Maybe it's a culmination of all of that. Maybe it's trying to balance your concerns for you children with the trust you have in their abilities. Maybe that's what makes a good dad.
Things to ponder has I sit on the back porch tonight with a BB gun and some rubbing alcohol. here puppy puppy puppy...........
<-That's it? Take me home now