...And Bingo Was His Name-o

Actually, it wasn't Bingo, his name was Lucky.

The NAVY stationed my father in San Diego, California when I was about 5 years old and he had taken up a night patrol position for a second job. One very late night--or early morning--my mother came in to wake me up.

"Come downstairs, there's a suprise waiting for you," she told me.

I rolled out of bed and precariously made my way down the stairs to see my dad standing there with a smile on his face. I didn't really understand why he was home until he directed my attention to the dirty, hairy beast sitting next to him.

My dad told me the story of how was out on his rounds near the interstate and happened to see this mangy mutt trying to cross the road. The dog seemed to be attracted to the oncoming traffic and was almost hit several times. He didn't have a collar on and looked pretty unkept, so my father decided to load him up in the backseat of his patrol car and bring him home for the night.

I suppose if you got passed all the disgustingly dirty, matted fur, the dog was kind of cute. Once the sun had risen and all the other, normal people had woken up and gone to work, my dad came home and we made a few phone calls to the animal shelters and pounds to see if any of them had heard about this missing dog. Nobody claimed him, though.

We took Lucky, the name I gave to the lucky son-of-a-gun, to get his shots and some nice salon treatment. After a good bath and a hair cut, he didn't look like the same mutt as before; he actually looked like a dog, even though to this day I don't know exactly what breed he was. He had white hair and very emotional eyes and a cute, mischevious grin. :D He was a real sweety.

We kept Lucky for the remaining year we lived in San Diego and our move to Bremerton, Washington. We'd gotten lucky and found an out of the way place with a huge yard for him to play in. I was given a couple of kittens (Squeaker and Sweetpea) for my 8th Birthday and he just loved them. He even made friends with the never-on-a-leash female dog named Missy. *wink wink* She belonged to a boy around my age that lived across the street. I'd made a few friends as well, but something happened to Lucky. His behavior started changing; he got more and more defensive of our house and his area, and he was getting a lot more aggressive. The real indicator was when I had a friend coming over to visit. She rode down the street from her house on her bike and had gotten into our driveway when Lucky tore down our front steps and attacked her. He bit down to the bone.

We figured maybe it was just a one time deal, and if we disciplined him enough about being so defensive, he wouldn't attack anyone anymore. We thought he'd gotten better, until the little boy from across the street came to look for his dog. Missy was up on our porch being cozy with Lucky in his dog bed. Lucky didn't like the intrusion and attacked the boy. The boy had to be taken to the emergency room, but luckily the damage wasn't bad. The parents of the boy did demand that something be done about Lucky, though.

They couldn't actually press charges for the attack because it was on our property and he had been on a leash, they demanded that our dog be put down. We were already puzzled about Lucky's behavior and weren't sure what more we could do to control him, so we took him to the vet. We were told that he might have developed behavioral problems from his past and that there was really no telling what he could be capable of next. My parents made the heartbreaking decision to put Lucky to sleep.

It was a very sad time for me, because he had been my first pet and I loved him dearly. I had never had a problem with him being aggressive towards me and because I was so young, I didn't really understand what the problem was. He was my sweet Lucky.

I haven't had a dog since, and after we put Lucky down, Sweetpea ran away. :(

That was actually my first experience of death. Before that, I knew of the concept of death, but I never actually understood the true feeling of loss. Even though it was only a dog, and not a parent, aunt/uncle, or a sibling like Antigone lost, it was still heart wrenching.

Antigone lost both of her brothers and the emotional anguish she must have felt was directing her actions. The insult of her brother, Polyneices, insulted her and her grieving. Of course she would want to break all the rules to break Creon's law and bury her brother. She couldn't let him (his body, anyway) suffer, no matter what he may be accused of. She was ready for the consequences of her actions and didn't back down or betray her true sense of morality.

Besides, we wouldn't have the great, tragic story of Antigone if she had followed the rules.

"You are remembered for the rules you break." -General Douglas MacArthur