Deborah LeBlanc —————————————————————————-I’m on a death-grip deadline for a manuscript, and right now I’m figuring the only way I’m going to meet that deadline is if I receive some serious intervention—like from Moses. If I could just get him to wave that staff of his over these blank pages, maybe the crap would part and make way for some decent prose.
Working under the pressure of a deadline is tough enough, but when you add life’s little nits into the mix, like eating, sleeping, and going to the bathroom, writing can feel downright laborious. And heaven help us if, during this time crunch, some real crap gets thrown our way—you know, the stuff that happens in life that leaves you feeling anesthetized—then writing can go from laborious to damn near impossible.
Unfortunately, I got a dose of that the other night.
I got home relatively early, planning to grab a sandwich and lock myself in my home office so I could write the night away. That didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen—not when I pulled into my driveway and discovered my two beautiful, 150 pound Rottweilers dead.
Both had been shot in the head.
It took a while before I could collect myself—lots of crying, then just the stupor of shock—and gather clues. From the size of the entry and exit wounds, I knew a .22 caliber long had been used and that the shots were fired from a distance. There was no blood spatter evidence that indicated movement after the shooting, which meant the dogs were literally dropped with one shot each. That kind of precision from the distance I estimated could only have been managed with a scope.
The police were called, of course, but the bottom line is the chances that they’ll ever find the asshole or holes who killed my beauties are slim to squat. I live in a small town, in the country, were hunters often traipse through the eighty acres of open field behind my home in search of rabbits and squirrel. Tracking spent bullet casings would be an act of futility because there are casings EVERYWHERE in that field. (That acreage doesn’t belong to me, so I was never able to post a NO TRESPASSING sign along its boundaries. The only thing I could do was put a fence around my own property so my pets would have a safe zone—or what I thought would be a safe zone.)
Anyway, there was to be no writing that night. I spent five hours digging graves for Rajah (the female) and Axle (the male), and by the time they were laid to rest and I had patted down the last scoop of dirt, I was too numb to think. The only thing that moved through my mind with any clarity was a vision of my friends…how excited they’d get when they saw me, how those nubby tails would wag so hard, half their body shook.
They’re still very much on my mind today, much more so than this book, which brings me back to ground zero….just where the hell is Moses when you need him anyway?
17 Comments, Comment or Ping
John B. Rosenman
I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Deborah. How cruel and stupid some people can be, with no respect for life at all. On top of your grief and sense of loss, you must feel very frustrated and angry because the possibility of catching the person or persons responsible is so remote.
You express well how hard it is to write sometimes, especially when a senseless tragedy like this happens. I hope you are able to move on by recalling the good times with your beloved pets.
Sep 18th, 2006
Teresa
I share your anger and your loss and your tears, Deborah. How can you possibly write anything while living in your own horror story? Please, know my thoughts are with you.
Sep 18th, 2006
Deborah LeBlanc
Thanks, John and Teresa. Ironically, if I wrote this incident into a storyline, I’d probably get hammered by dog-lovers for killing off the dogs. Life is definitely weirder than fiction….
Sep 18th, 2006
David Niall Wilson
I know what it’s like to lose animals, and I know what it’s like to live in a place where crime is unlikely to ever be punished (I told the story long ago of our robberies here and Larry the Cable cop who told us they couldn’t do a thing). I wish there was anything I could say to make it better, but I know there isn’t….
Be well…
David
Sep 18th, 2006
Janet Berliner
I’m so sorry, Deb. Bob and I send virtual hugs. It’s not much, I know, but it’s the best we can do. Love, Janet
Sep 18th, 2006
Sully
If sharing ebbs the pain, lay some on me. Terribly senseless act. I’m amazed that you’ve controlled your outrage so well. Mourn them, keep the memory, move on. Hope that the criminal immaturity or irredeemable brutality of the perps is somehow neutralized. Your own class in handling this is a model…
– Sully (Thomas Sullivan)
Sep 18th, 2006
Deborah LeBlanc
Thanks, David, Janet (sending back a huge hug and much love!), and Sully. Aside from the memories I have of them, the one thing that helps keep me on pace, and often does when faced with senseless situations like this, is believing in the spit factor.
When I was young,my grandmother used to say, “If you spit straight up in de air, it’s gonna fall back on you face.” It was her way of saying, whatever you put out in this world will come back to you. What is due to come back to you may not happen right away…but it will.
Sep 18th, 2006
Janet Berliner
“If you spit straight up in de air, it’s gonna fall back on you face.”
I like that lady, wherever she is.
J.
Sep 18th, 2006
Deborah LeBlanc
Sep 18th, 2006
Phoenix
I’m so sorry to hear that. People are senseless sometimes. We had to put down a horse this last week because it was starved to death. I live and work at a bording facility and we got her in on Sunday. She lasted until wednesday.
Loosing our friends is never fun, but it seems so much worse when it’s because of something so sensless.
My thoughts are with you, and remember wether cyou call it spit or Karma… they’ll get theirs someday.
Julie
Sep 18th, 2006
Michele Lee
OMG Deborah I am so sorry! I have a 95lb little boy and coming home to that used to be my biggest fear. One of my neighbors commonly tried to call the cops out to shoot him (even though he never did anything, and neither did the cops). We moved a few black away and now our neighbors have a rottie, the one on the other side has a great dane and two more on the block have rotts. Never heard a threat since. I am so sorry for you.
Sep 18th, 2006
Deborah LeBlanc
Thank you, Phoenix…man-oh-man, I’d love to get my hands on the sicko who allowed that poor horse to starve to death! What a heartache to have to put them down….
Thanks, Michele. Sadly, Rotties have always had a horrible reputation. All I’ve ever known them to be, though, are gentle, loveable, and loyal. Rajah and Axle were big and had that deep, hard bark that sent more than one stranger scrambling back to their vehicle. With my two babies, it was all show. The most they would have done is slobbered a guy to death.
Sep 19th, 2006
Mark Rainey
Jesus, Deb, this makes me ill. What a horrible thing to come home to. You’ve definitely showed more restraint than many of us might. It’s wonderful you were able to post at all, under the circumstances. Condolences to you.
–M
Sep 19th, 2006
John Skipp
Oh, Deb –
That is so fucked. And I am so sorry.
And you are the coolest.
Love,
Skipp
Sep 19th, 2006
Elizabeth Massie
John said it well, that is TRULY so fucked. I can’t imagine someone doing that, and it was clearly intentional if they were felled with one shot each. I’m furious for you!! But fury won’t make things better, and the idea that the spit…or something else…will come back to them in the eye is a good one. Let it come.
Beth
Sep 19th, 2006
Sephera
Wow, that sucks big time. I love rotties…I love those Carl picture books and read them to my kids all the time when they were babies.
Sep 19th, 2006
Deborah LeBlanc
Thanks, Mark, John (much love back!), Beth (would love to be a fly on the wall when that spit does fall back!), and Sephera. (I read those to my kids, too!)
Sep 19th, 2006
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