Blue

 Blue was my best friend when I was 12.

He was a weimaraner.

He was shot and I operated on him to remove the bullet.

His jaw was broken and I nursed him back to health.

He would come look for me at school when he got loose.

He protected me while I slept.

No one could attack me while he was with me.

So naturally he had to go.

My family gave him away.

We went to family concealing for a couple of days after the bloody sneakers affair. Three times. Each time the councilor allowed my family to blame (transfer) all of the family problems to Tim's dog. After all a dog can't fight back (and it hurt me) so a win, win, situation.

Because he needed to be let out to use the bathroom; my mom, dad, and brother fought.

Because when he didn't get fed he knocked over the garbage can my father and brother drank to excess.

Because I was in school all day it was my fault when he got loose and came to the school looking for me or was brought home by the police.

So one day, on a Saturday I came home to my mom preparing Blues food. A job that I usually did twice a day. My mom seeing me enter the kitchen immediately tried to hide his dish from me. On the counter was an open box of rat poison.

I asked her what she was doing and was ordered to go outside and play.

I didn't and took the dish away from my mom.

It was laced with rat poison.

You'd poison my dog?

No, No, I was just putting it down in the cellar.....Because I saw some rats!

Then why did you use my dog's dish and not one of the throwaway ones?

I didn't get any answer so Blue and I stayed in my room for the rest of the weekend.

My father tried to bully me into joining the "family " for dinner.

So did my brother.

I finally relented when my mom apologized to me for trying to kill my friend and protector.

A week later Blue ran away.

My father and brother with my moms help sold Blue to the Montour Rod and Gun club.

The story that was forced down my throat was he ran away.

My brother was elated.

No more protection for his favorite target.

The problem was that Blue always tried to find me.

So when we were taking my brothers motorcycle to Elmira to be repaired they didn't count on Blue tracking me.

He ran behind the truck trying to catch us.

I banged on the roof screaming for dad to pull over.

I finally started to jump out of the truck and my brother knocked me down and beat on me till I stopped moving.

I never saw Blue again.

Nothing changed at home and the lock on my bedroom door was removed.

So much for it being Blues fault.



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