When I was a kid, I had an animal magnetism all my own. By that I mean, animals were drawn to beating the shit out of me. I don’t know why, but the list of things that happened is pretty funny now, looking back.
I think it started with the chicken. When I was about 6 or 7, my dad raised chickens for their egg-producing qualities, and sometimes we would even get to witness stage 1 of how chicken salad is made. It was edutainment at its finest. However, being the youngest kid in the fam, I was apparently a target for all of the unresolved aggression of every animal in the neighborhood. For instance, where there are hens, there are often roosters. One of them, in particular, had a grudge against me, and one day decided that he’d had enough of my upright humanness bullshit. I was taller than he was and it pissed him off. I don’t know why, he had all the chicks. ho ho!
Yeah, so one day he charged me. Not expecting this sudden outrage, I stumbled backwards and tripped over something, landing comfortably in a patch of hay. This comfort was not destined to last, for an angry rooster is a mighty foe for a scrawny 7 year old who doesn’t know what the fucking fuck is going on. The son of a bitch started jumping on my chest like I was a trampoline, scratching the hell out of me and scarring me for life, or at least a few days. Oh but my brother was there. “Saved!” or so I thought. No, that prick just laughed at my shame. I should have expected as much. I don’t remember how it ended, but my enemy is now gone from this world, where I’m quite sure he resides in Poultry Valhalla telling tales of his victory and making me sound a lot bigger than I was.
My brother was not always useless, however. Everyone knows a chicken is not exactly a mortal threat, but dogs, dogs are another story. Our aunt, who lived just next door, owned a sort of sheep dog thing named Brutus. I swear it was the second filthiest looking piece of shit mongrel I’ve seen in my life. Perhaps the news of the rooster’s victory at Wardenloo propelled this shaggy heap of crap into action, because he got me good.
Once again, unaware as to just what I did to provoke the confrontation, there was an angry animal standing over me… but he wasn’t jumping on me. I’m serious when I say this. He pissed on me. That motherfucker opened the flood gates on a frightened 7 year old (yes, twas a great year indeed!). Pinned down with fear that if I moved his bite would be worse than his bark, I had no choice but to accept this golden shower. Then I heard a loud crack. It turned out my brother was coming to the rescue this time, with a large board (my brother has always had superhuman strength). However, this didn’t do a lot of good, because Brutus had a potentially bulletproof layer of dirt caked on him and apart from that, he was dumber than a bag of hammers. The board fucking BROKE!
My brother, undaunted by this temporary setback, simply adopted a better strategy: Get something made of metal. The next thing I know, I was freed from this waking nightmare as I heard a loud “BONG”. Apparently Brutus’ armor was not impervious to a metal pipe and he was sent whimpering off to lick his wounds. I hated age 7. A lot.
Even my own dog hated me. But he hated nearly everyone else too. The problem was, I had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and with a dog that’s fiercely protective of his food, you have to watch your every step. Point of fact, I stepped off of my chair and onto his dinner and I have some lovely scars to show for it. You wouldn’t think a dog his size, and with the appearance of a fucking Ewok, could be so goddamn pissed off all the time, but there it was. He nearly sent 2 nephews and 1 niece of mine to the ER, and the UPS man lived in fear of his existence. In the case of the kids, they deserved it; you don’t hit a dog with sticks and expect not to have your face bitten. I remember one of them got their face bloodied and I yelled at them for getting mauled. Hahaha. Ah good times.
I think I got some small amount of revenge against the animal kingdom some years later, however, when my brothers and I were on opposite sides of our big front porch taking a brotherly whizz and my stream hit the face of a curious possum, probably half-blinding it and sending it screaming around running into things for a few seconds before running off. I laughed so fucking hard. And don’t assume that I was some redneck kid, you’ll find possums (and skunks in particular) in densely populated areas. Just not that one.
*zips up* I’m just glad we didn’t own horses.
- Wells
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