Complicity of Conscience

It was 4AM and Mia followed me outside. She quickly chased the little opossum that visits us nightly up the tree and proceeded to bark at it. She has a relatively weak bark especially compared to my big dog T-Bone. This time of year all you can hear at 4 AM is the buzzing of air conditioning compressors so I wasn't worried about her disturbing the neighbors.

A memory flashed into my mind from long ago about another little dog barking at an opossum. Unlike this neighborhood where everyone has the AC cranking, the house I grew up in did not have air-conditioning so our windows were open at night.

"I finally caught this son of a bitch," exclaimed my dad. I was surprised he had not already wrung its neck.

"Put this in your truck, take it out in the middle of the woods and KILL it!" Dad was mad with anger as he shook me awake at the dawning of the day.

"I can't..." I started to say but dad would not hear it. His 350 pound body was dripping with sweat.

"This goddamned thing has gotten on my last nerve. I've asked them goddamned people over and over again until I'm blue in the face. I've been trying to capture this little bastard for 8 months now, sweet talking it until I finally coaxed it up close enough for me to get a holt of it. Now you take this out and shoot it!" His face was red with intensity with hard blue eyes leaving no doubt of his intent to get shed of that nuisance.

The across the street neighbors had aquired a weiner dog and rather than walking it in the morning on a leash, they would just let it out of the house unsupervised. It found its way into our yard and barked at the opossum that lived in the tree beside my dad's bedroom window. This happened every day at 5 AM. The dog would bay at the opossum until they called it back in at about 7 AM.

Dad went out there morning after morning, cussing, hollering and chasing that goofy little dog away from the house. The old possum held some magic for that little dog because it just could not resist coming over and barking at it even after my dad stomped at it like a madman. Dad cursed at the neighbors to keep it in their own goddamn yard because it was barking under his bedroom window every morning. My dad's pleas went unheeded.

One day dad had had enough. He told them that when he got a holt of that dog that was going to be the end of it. They didn't take his threat seriously because I don't think they thought the severely overweight 68 year old man could catch the little dog. I also think they forgot about the resolve of a combat veteran of the 82nd Airborne.

Dad was unaware of my recent conversion from redneck pecker wood to enlightened rogue. I had lost my interest in hunting as a hobby and killing in general, not that I won't eat what somebody else kills. Music had become my only passion and I didn't have time for other hobbies.

It's funny world... some people see a turtle crossing the road and will go out of their way to hit it and other people will stop their car to help the turtle cross the road safely. Takes all kinds to make the world wobble on its tilted axis.

I didn't want to disappoint dad but I didn't want to kill the neighbors dog either. Dad shoved the little dog in my truck and I took off. I had been out all night and didn't have much sleep so I stopped by a safe place to roll a joint and think for a minute. We lived in constant fear of getting busted back in those days. In a small area the cops always know who's up to what. We always hoped that they had bigger fish to fry. Hence a safe place off of the highway, away from prying eyes. Freedom my ass!

I had some friends that lived up in the north part of the county and they would take their dogs for a run on the dirt roads, letting the dogs chase the truck. It was a great way to wear out a dog that was misbehaving from lack of activity. I figured I could just let the little dog off up there and somebody would take the friendly little thing in.

I was not clever enough to remove the dog's collar though and it, of course, had all the pertinent information necessary to return it to its rightful owners.

I smoked the joint I had rolled on the way back home in an effort to not feel guilty about being complicit in the disappearance of the neighbors dog, worried whether or not it would find a safe home.

When I got home dad asked me if I had killed it and wanted the details of his little tormentors demise. I lied and made up a story about blasting the little wiener dog into oblivion as dad's eyes gleamed with revenge and the thought of that thorn being removed...

Shortly after my mom had returned from church, dad stormed in my room madder than a wet hen. Dad had watched the neighbors pile into their station wagon about the same time my mom left for Sunday brainwashing. They had returned with the dog I had claimed to have murdered.

Dad was not happy with me on so many levels. I had already learned to live with the fact that I was a disappointment to my folks but when it comes to making parents happy, it's easier to bullshit them than it is to do what they want sometimes. I still felt bad for disappointing him. It was easier than facing the neighbors little girl if I had killed her dog though.

Dad had had a bad experience when he was a kid when they killed his dog for attacking the neighbor's chickens. Dad argued that it wasn't his dog that was doing it. After they had killed his dog anyway, the chickens were still being attacked. Turned out to be the neighbors own dog that was doing it just like dad said. I guess that experience made him a little cold when it came to killing somebody else's beloved pet.

It's always difficult when family asks you to do something that goes against your nature and better judgment. For some people family loyalty is blind. The Hatfields and McCoys, supposedly Christian people that didn't know how to forgive and forget. They didn't read the part that says "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."

I think deep down dad was glad that I wasn't a cold blooded killer. I think he understood that I didn't have the heart to do that to another being. Dad died 10 years later from complications of Alzheimer's disease.

I imagine at one time dad was just like me until the war came along. There were some relatives that called him a sucker because he could've gotten a farm deferral. My dad saw the pictures in the newspaper of the bombed out buildings in Europe and he didn't want that on happening on American soil to his family. He thought it better to fight them over there before it got here, especially after Pearl Harbor.

I'm just a peace and love kind of guy that can't understand why on a planet of plenty there are so many people without, why people choose belief over love, hate over freedom, fear over faith and animosity over respect. After all, the only thing that truly matters in the end is how we treat each other. ☮️❤️😊🎶👣🖖