CptStern
suckmonkey
- Joined
- May 5, 2004
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from something awful
Probably mere months after this, they got a family dog, whose name I forget, let's call that dog 'Sammy.'
Sammy, from what I remember, was some lab-shepherd-whatever black mutt, a handful of years old, which was absolutely huge to us, of course. Gio decided he liked Sammy, and, young enough to not know that dogs like nearly all kinds of attention and would consume anything eagerly, thought that Sammy's enthusiasm meant that they would be instant lifelong pals, like the ABC afternoon specials we'd see on channel 8.
When he could, he'd steal things from the pantry and refrigerator, apparently feeling guilty for Sammy having the same old, dry, unpalatable dry food. His parents should've picked up on this, because he apparently was asking every day that summer if Sammy could eat at the table, to which, of course, it was explained why that?s wasn?t going to happen. Being six (or so,) it would have to be repeated at length every night, because no explanation of decline is either processed, remembered, or accepted by a child of six in a situation that does not cause physical pain or punishment.
One it finally sunk in, he simply resorted to catering to Sammy himself.
Turned out, Sammy loved butter. Loved it.
Sometime around that period, Country Crock found out that consumer-level sales of entire quarts of butter in tubs were possible, even profitable, to shopping mothers who were looking for a dollar to save, and a trip to the store to forego.
Hell, that Country Crock Tub? It even looked like a dog bowl, when opened.
Gio opened the lid, and let Sammy have at it, for what seemed like forever. I can only imagine his mother wandering elsewhere around the house, self-doubting if she dropped or forgot that tub of butter at the check-out line (which she added, when this story was being confirmed.)
Apparently, Sammy didn't even look up until he was done, licking his chops, and Gio undoubtedly had affectionately pet his fine friend with encouraging words and beaming with benefactor-esque self-satisfaction.
Eventually, the synonymous dinner/time to come inside for the day moment had arrived, where he and Sammy would be separated for a while, as to circumvent begging at the table.
"Can Sammy come and play?"
I was told that on the night in question, dinner was just done with, and the dishes soaking, a Norman Rockwell-like moment where the news was on, his parents were in their 'comfy' chairs, flanking Gio and his smaller sister, toys sprawled on the floor between them.
"You can let him in," his mother answered, as opposed to the father, because his father wanted Sammy to be an outside dog, his mother cared more about the pet getting along with the children, so the issue was always up in the air.
Sammy walked in, apparently slow and reluctant, to which Gio's parents thought was the animal's disappointment that the dinner he assuredly had smelled was now nowhere to be found. This was tragically not the case.
The animal apparently walked into the center of the room, not to be the center of attention selfishly, but, in retrospect, to get any help it could hope to receive.
"What's wrong, Sammy?"
Sammy then proceeded to 'warble' loudly, a hound-dog like howl drowned in the depths of dread and uneasiness, a canine movie soundtrack foreshadowing that it's both not happy, and something horrible is just around the corner...
"Sammy? What's wrong?"
"Get out from in front of the TV, Sammy!" Gio's father shouted, loud and sudden; having known the man, such outbursts could make everyone in the room flinch, which is what I suppose everyone did, including Sammy.
Sammy, most likely because of this jarring shock, became one of those rare instances where the hyperbole of 'making GBS threads one's self in fear' renewed its validation.
A 'fountain' of foulness shot from the dog's rear end in a jet of fecal fury, I'm told, straight onto the television screen, splattering and obscuring the newscaster like a Golgothan eclipse heralding the end of days itself.
Of course, Gio's father bolted upright in horror and disbelief, grabbed the nearest magazine into a roll, and proceeded to hit the panicking, gastrointestinally-traumatized dog. Of course, the dog panicked further, recoiling in fear, and looked for an exit, but, because the family was around the television, and the dog was in front of said television, Sammy had nowhere to go. In true flight response to such a walls-closing-in scenario, the dog tried to turn this way, that way, in circles, ?where was the door again? The septic spray swung this way and that, around in a circle, exponentially increasing the horror of mostly-liquid fecal engulfment and vigorous flow of the room, fueling the fury of the father, the adrenaline of the dog under duress, and, of course, Gio's absolute delight, the unthinkable Holy Grail of childhood disgusting-is-awesome possibilities now had him rolling in uncontrollable laughter.
It was clearly the first greatest day of his life.
He even repeated that thought, years later.
Sammy finally found the way he came in, after leaving a wide, power-sprayed circle of porridge-like poo poo, like a conjuring ring for summoning Colonic Demon, like a thick, infernal ring-stain in a sewage treatment vat. The dog, his bowels now thankfully emptied, was scratching at the door he came in, for his very preservation of life. Gio's mother beat Gio?s father to the door, and, with an outstretched hand, opened the door for the poor dog, which darted out, not to be seen for days.
I'm told his mother simply collapsed into a kitchen chair, calling on all of her Catholic saints for assistance both mental, and, if possible, physical, his father let out a loud, roaring death-cry lamenting his checking account, which would be nearly depleted tomorrow, no doubt, and Gio? Laughed his way to a stomachache. It is not known what his sister did, but I can only imagine she laughed with Gio for the sake of sibling comaraderie.
Days later, Sammy came back, and Gio was glad to see him. So glad, in fact, all he wanted to do was make Sammy happy. After all, Sammy had entertained him so, giving him the best laugh of his young life!
Another tub of butter inevitably disappeared. Whether Gio actually made the connection or not is not known, not even by Gio?s honest guess, years later.
Sammy now being an outside dog, the resurrection of the blazing fury of Gio's father was soon realized and generously broadcast when he needed a certain tool out of his outdoor shed, the state of which can only be assumed to be compared to the post-Sammy, pre-sanitized living room.
They soon got rid of the dog, thinking it terminally ill, never guessing Gio had anything to do with it, until he confessed his side of the tale in his late teens...
...the statute of limitation on Canine Colonic Torrents nonwithstanding.
I was the only kid in my neighborhood that didn?t ever want a dog, after that.
