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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The old man had always had an unnatural fondness for the animal but could never seem to bond with human easily, with the exception of a special, dear grandmother. His mind wandered back to his childhood, the Christmas eve of 1958 about a special chore that he was required to do of his parents……. “Being” To be or not to be One two three, Five more to go… The eight year old counted the puppies his female Border collie had given birth to only three days earlier. The words of his parents echoed in his ears, “We can’t have so many dogs around the house, we can’t feed them all. You will have to dispose of them, she is your dog, your responsibility.” The lad wiped the tears from his eyes, as he prepared reluctantly to smash another head against a large stone which he had selected. “Smash!” not a whimper. He had become proficient at this chore. “Being” To be or not to be One two three four, four more to go. The remaining puppies snuggled together for warmth in the cold December breeze. I can’t do this his conscience screamed as his young mind reasoned, “You have to, mom said, and dad will be home in the evening. You will get a licking such as you have never gotten before.” “Smash!” not a whimper. The blood trickled down his finger tips. “Being” To be or not to be, One, two, three, four, five, Three more to go, He looked at the huge stone, “The killing stone” he thought as he prepared to finish all three of the remaining puppies in one swift moment if possible. “Smash! Smash! Smash!” It was over he gave a sigh of relief as he gathered the tiny, still bodies into a small shoe box that was to be the coffin of burial. He quickly buried the box with the puppies’ corpses inside. He knew this was one chore on Christmas eve day that would haunt him for many days perhaps years to come. In Honor of Carol Brown And Contest
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