This is Bobbitt. My family acquired her in the fall of 1993, when she was still a puppy. We named her Bobbitt because she’s a weiner dog, we’re crass rednecks, and “Bobbitt” was the name of the man who had, in that year, the most famous weiner in the world.She was so small she fit in my pocket, and even when she was full grown, she never weighed more than about 12 pounds. Despite this, she was stubborn, cantankerous, and alphaed every dog she can in contact with, acting like she was a big dog instead a tiny one. When she was young, she, like most dogs, liked to chase the ball, ride in cars, and play wrestle. When she got old, she didn’t have much energy and mostly preferred to sleep on the heating pad and sniff things. She had a funny habit of going outside, putting her face in the grass, and then taking a dump on the concrete. Even though she was totally deaf and mostly blind in recent years, she still wiggled like a puppy when she saw me. Her favorite person in the world, whose side she rarely left, was my mother. But I was a close second. Every time I’ve said goodbye to her in recent years, I took my time. Since she was 17 years old, there was always the chance this would be the last. I imagined her death would be a well-earned, peaceful one—in her sleep, perhaps on her heating pad.
Instead, some lowlife piece of shit took her away. After my mom and the cops did some research, they found the people who took her. Oh, the claim is that she and her dude found this creaky old dog who never wanders more than 20 feet away from my mom in a bar more than a mile away from where the dog disappeared. We, as you can imagine, are skeptical. We think they saw the dog hanging out on the sidewalk in front of my stepfather’s restaurant in Ft. Stockton, thought she was a puppy, and stole her. We then believe that she, being Bobbitt, protested all night long until they couldn’t take it anymore. And we believed they murdered this helpless animal, either directly or by putting her out in the desert where, being blind and deaf and slow-moving, wasn’t going to last too long. But there’s no evidence, so the cops say there’s nothing they can do.
Some times I find occasion to ponder the arguments of kind-hearted folks who think that other people do fucked up shit with good intentions. I think of Jon Stewart on Rachel Maddow dismissing the idea that George Bush deliberately lied about WMDs in Iraq, for instance, because it’s too painful to believe someone could be that ugly in his heart, that power mad, that indifferent to others. I look at that hopefulness about human nature and I marvel. I rarely doubt that the world is full of bad shit happening because a lot of people are petty, cruel, sadistic, and selfish. Once again, I’ve been reminded that I’m right about that one.
I hope wherever my dog now is, she’s chasing squirrels in her dreams forever. I have a lot of work to do today, but I took this short break because I had to get this off my chest.