Excuse me, but could you pass the....... aaaahhhhh!!!

I don’t even know where to begin. Fauntleroy, the Doll House Girls, CJ…. We all have high hopes for our little slice of heaven along the lakeshore. Last night however, it was more like hell.

Aunt Karen and Uncle Duck were down for what was to be a delicious meal prepared by yours truly with Iron Man acting as sous chef. The sweat potatoes and parsnips had just finished boiling and were ready to be mashed, the pork loin was a perfect pink on the BBQ and I was about to steam the brussel sprouts. I had a corkscrew in hand ready to open a special bottle of wine from Duck and Sheila’s own vineyard when it all fell apart.

Being the good, law abiding citizen she is, Aunt Karen asked for a plastic bag so she could take her precious Cab out for “business” before dinner. Luckily, my front door had been painted that morning and was still drying. I say that because there was no point in having the air conditioner on, for if it was, the windows would have be closed and we would not have heard the screams for help that came moments later.

At first, Duck, Iron and I thought it was a group of children being rather loud out front of the house. Not out of the ordinary in the neighbourhood. But the second round of screams and pleas for help (that put Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween to shame) told us something was not right.

I don’t think my feet touched a single stair on the way down. When I stepped outside, there was my aunt trying frantically to pull a pitbull off her little Cab. Her hand was in the melee and bleeding profusely. I grabbed the pitbull and shook it with all my might but that little bitch wasn’t letting go come hell or high water. It wasn’t until Duck put the boots to it that it let go. I should have held onto the corkscrew!

The “owner”, clad in a tank top and cycling shorts, made an appearance on the scene, can of beer in one hand, fag in the other. I’m sorry if this in non-PC, but just the type of white trash piece of crap you would expect to own such a killing machine. I say piece of shit, I didn’t, but now I do, because how else do you describe someone who, when asked what their name is, takes their dog and runs away?

Total panic ensued. Towels, of course I only have nice fluffy white ones, were brought forth to stop the deluge (honestly, the only way to describe it) of blood that spurted forth from poor Cab. The sidewalk, front stoop and hall (including my new wallpaper) were coated with a crimson red goo. Auntie’s hand was wrapped and iced as she cried asking after the dog.

Iron Man and I dialed 911 as fast as we could and he found an emergency vet down on Yonge. He and Duck were soon gone and an ambulance on scene. The attendants advised my aunt to go to the hospital but she steadfastly refused, wanting to wait by the phone for news of her beloved.

CJ joined us with her trusty digital camera so we could snap photos of the carnage. It was very CSI as I put down a ruler next to the pools of blood. She was great with Aunt Karen and helped keep her calm while I mopped up mess and hosed down the front porch.

The police and animal services were next to arrive. One neighbour had noted that the “bitch” (you decided if I am referring to the dog or owner…..or both!) had gone east. My heart sank at the thought of them actually getting away. My faith was somewhat restored though as I found out more people had come out during the commotion to offer assistance. One of them told the police they saw the people go into a low rise building not 150 feet from my front door!

They went with animals services and saw the dog through the window, but the owners were no where to be seen. They probably headed off to the closest bar to laugh over the whole incident with their low brow, addle minded friends. The landlord was called, the door unlocked the beast collared and put into the van. I have to say however, I would rather have that dog roaming the streets than the people that owned it. At least the dog did what is in its nature.

What they did was no better than stab my aunt and leave her to her own devices. What kind of coward tucks their tail between their legs and turns their back on someone in so much trouble and pain – that they caused! If you have ever read The Old Curiosity Shop, Mr. Quilp comes to mind. Not only would he do it, he would probably enjoy it too boot.

I tired thinking that their guilt would eventually drive them to my door with some sort of an apology, but even this morning, nothing. I was glad to see the police back on the scene this morning talking to someone, sadly, they were not taken away in the car.

Cab is going to be fine and is recovering at the animal hospital in Guelph, the police said charges are going to be laid against the owners, but what that means, who knows. What it will do, probably even less. I am sure they can go to a shelter and get another dog in about a week.

I won’t let this incident ruin my view or hopes for Etobicoke Lakeshore, but it certainly will keep me from taking a certain shortcut anymore. Very sorry Auntie Karen – and I hope you are better soon.