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Thread: Dog bite story---O.T.

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    Default Dog bite story---O.T.

    Dog Bite Story
    Back in one of my previous lives, about 40 years ago, I built a house on the town line road east of Stirling, Ontario.
    There was an old, ran down farm across the road that was vacant. Not long after I had built my house, an old hippy bought the farm and moved into the house. He was a pleasant enough fellow, and was no bother to me. Not long after he moved into the house he got a dog. Biggest damned dog I ever seen, it was an Irish Wolfhound.
    I had two little kids, and was somewhat concerned, but the hippy said “Don’t worry about the dog—I have trained it to never leave my property.” And he was right. The dog never crossed the road and eat either of my kids, although I was a bit worried about that.
    Then after about three months, he got another dog.---A Rhodesian Ridgeback. It too was a big dog, and it was meaner than Hell, but it never crossed the road either.
    Gordon Clarke owned one of the farms on the road, and also had a job driving truck for Beaver Lumber.
    The hippy was renovating a shed out behind the main house, and placed an order for some roof trusses with Beaver Lumber. Gordon had them loaded on the truck and drove them out to the hippy house.
    While he was unloading the truck, the Rhodesian Ridgeback came running out and gave Gordon a terrible bite on the leg. Gordon got the hippy to tie the dog up, and finished unloading the trusses. He had to go to the hospital for antibiotic shots and stitches.
    Two weeks after that, the hippy ordered some more lumber from Beaver lumber. Gordon Clark called him, and said he wasn’t delivering anything unless that dog was tied.
    Hippy said he had the dog chained up, so Gordon brought out the load of lumber, but this time the lumber was strapped onto the flat-bed truck, and Gordon had to get an iron bar out of the cab to slack off the tie down winches.
    He got the first strap slackened off, and was heading up toward the front of the truck, when around the front came the Rhodesian Ridgeback.
    Gordon never even blinked. He brought that iron bar down on the dogs head and killed it right there in the driveway.—Whack!!!”
    Much sqealing and lawyering went on after that, but nothing came of it.
    Everybody on the Town line road kind of thought Gordon was a hero after that. Far as I know, the hippy still lives there.
    Brian--2019
    Last edited by brian Rupnow; 08-13-2019 at 04:31 PM.
    Brian Rupnow

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