Better Petter

While we're on the subject of animal cruelty.......

From the time I was an infant until the time I was 5, I lived in Tupelo, Mississippi.

It's amazing what adventures you can have at such a young age.

Across the street from our home, a mildly retarded boy named Rusty (or was it Dusty?) lived with his mom and dad. I don't remember much about Rusty's mom except she spoke with a very shrill voice and always spoke in a patronizing voice to Rusty. (Grown-ups really were like the ones on Charlie Brown from my 5-year old perspective)

Rusty was probably around 12 years old when I knew him. Rusty and I were about the same age mentally. In the picture above, Rusty's house is in the background. I know it has a fence and that doesn't jibe with this story, but this story is the Truth.

Rusty loved puppies.

I loved puppies too.

Whenever Rusty would get a new puppy, he'd always come knock on my door and ask my mom if I could come to his house and play with him.

We didn't have any puppies, so it was a big event for me. I'd go over to Rusty's house and we'd have a grand old time playing together with the new pup. At that time, there was nothing better than a big puppy licking me all over the face. Even then, I thought puppies smelled bad. But it was a good stink.

Rusty's puppies had one problem. They always wanted to follow me home. Was it because I was a better petter? Was it that they somehow realized Rusty wasn't normal? Was it the potted meat on my breath? Those questions will never be answered. Especially by the puppies.

Usually, within a week or two of a new puppy's arrival, they would start trying to come to my house on their own. Usually, within days of that, they would end up as road-kill.

I remember after going through about 4 or 5 dead puppies, Rusty/Dusty got really mad at me. Well, as mad as a gentle, retarded kid could get. He told me he didn't want me to play with his puppies anymore. I didn't understand. I was just 5.

I protested and said it wasn't fair. I remember the sun beating down and me standing in Rusty's shadow. His face turned red and contorted into something that resembled an adult expression. He said "Foddow me".

He took me around to the back of his house. That is someplace I'd never been before. As we turned the corner, I saw something but didn't know what it was. There were sticks coming out of the ground, and rocks set up as markers in neat little rows. Several of the rocks and stick markers had fresh dirt in front of them where someone had dug a crude hole.

"This is dware all by puppies are buried", he said.

I remember feeling a chill. It is the first time I can remember every being creeped out.

There must have been 30 - 40 gravesites in Rusty's backyard.

Could I have been responsible for all of those? I told my mom about them. She told me to stay away from Rusty.

End of Story.