Chapter 3: OMG! Our dog is a hero.
Tom was seriously startled but he cranked the window partway down and spoke to the man outside his car door in Panhandle Spanglish. The guy in the street sounded seriously drunk. His nasty alcohol breath blew in the window. Tom leaned back because of the alcohol stench, spit droplets sprayed from that guy's mouth as he spoke. I saw Tom reach over and wipe his arm.
The man asked Tom why he parked by his house. Tom pointed at my house and said, "He lives there, we're talkin' `bout school." The guy told him to move. Tom raised his voice and shouted (with a sudden Mexican accent), "No way, we're 'cross the street. Viejo, you're too drunk to be sayin' shit to nobody." But that pissed him off even more.
Then he showed his knife (I heard the blade lock open), he tapped the window with the tip of the knife blade and told Tom to move his car. Tom slid across the front seat towards me after the guy punched the driver's door window really hard, I opened my door and we both quickly got out. The drunk guy slowly came around the front of the car with the knife in his right hand. I thought we could run in the kitchen door and call the cops so I got behind Tom and gently pulled his shirt toward the back yard gate.
My heart pounded with fear and my brain screamed: RUN! I inched us slowly backward as the drunk came closer making sure we saw his knife. There were no street lights near our house but there was enough light to see almost everything. Tom tried to talk him down (in Spanish) as we slowly backed-up. The man staggered and slurred his words, he was clearly itchin' for a fight. I thought it was weird because the guy wasn't all big and bad, just drunk. He was like maybe the same height as Tom but add maybe 50 pounds of body fat. I whispered to Tom who was in front of me, I was pulling harder on his shirt but it seemed he didn't want to back down. I was super scared and on the verge of freaking out.
Then in a flash the guy suddenly lunged at Tom. Tom grabbed his wrist and bent over and slowly dropped to his knees then fell sideways to the grass. I screamed `HELP!' as loud as I could, I knew I'd be the next one to get stabbed. In an instant there was an ENOURMOUS CRASH to our right, near the front of the house. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Some weird dark entity zoomed over Tom; I felt a rush of air. It looked like the drunk was violently blasted backwards to the street by some shadow entity, in slow motion Tom fell to the ground right in front of me. In a panic I spun around and ran around the side of our house, in the kitchen door, and grabbed the wall phone to call 911 in a total panic.
Breathlessly: "HELP US PLEASE! MY FRIEND JUST GOT STABBED, HE'S BLEEDIN' REAL BAD! WE NEED UH AMBULANCE AND THE COPS RIGHT NOW!" Tears dripped down my face as I struggled to speak without sobbing. The house was dark but I knew the kitchen well.
"Where are you sir?"
"Sixty five oh four Sandie Drive." I said trying not to yell.
"How many people are hurt?"
"Two, the other guy is the renter from across the street."
"Okay, I'm dispatching police and rescue right now." Then she asked something that surprised me "Is your mother injured?" I told her as far as I knew she's asleep in bed, but I ain't looked.
"HURRY PLEASE!" I dropped the phone while she was still asking me shit and ran to the front door and hit both light switches and left the door wide-open hoping Mom would wake up.
Tom was on his side quietly curled-up, alone on the grass. I was so totally panicked I had no idea what to do. Something weird I remembered about those minutes was they were eerily quiet, and Tom was strangely calm for someone that just got stabbed in the gut.
As I ran back to Tom I saw what happened. The drunk guy was in the street about ten feet in front of Tom's car, Crow stood there like a statue. I'm sure he was one hundred percent ready to attack again. My anger grew as I saw the body twitch and gasp for air. His arms made weird movements like he was trying to grab his throat.
I dropped to my knees beside Tom and pulled hard at his shirt to rip it open, one of the buttons popped up and hit me in the face. I saw a gash on his stomach a few inches from his belly button just above his belt. Through clenched teeth he moaned, "It hurts bad." When he moved his hands I saw it dripping blood on the grass, which made me instantly start to cry. Gently I rolled Tom on his back but it hurt to move. Slowly, I got him flat on his back.
I looked again at Crow about ten feet away standing with his head really low watching the guy in the street. He retracted those huge jowls to keep his enormous canine teeth ready to attack again. I recalled one of my Mom's favorite Clint Eastwood movie lines, `Go ahead punk...'
I looked back down at Tom and set my hand on his soft tummy then carefully pinched the edges of his gash together. He made a grimace but let me hold pressure to slow the bleeding. Blood trickled out of his stomach and across his belly to the grass. I used my other hand to un-button and un-zip his jeans so I could lower them so they didn't get ruined. After I got that done both my hands were covered with sticky blood. That was the first time I actually smelled blood. I tried hard to stop crying with the realization that this was probably the end of Tom's life. I'm sure he was nearly paralyzed with fear and pain, but he seemed oddly relaxed.
I looked back at Crow then down the street towards school as seconds felt like hours waiting for help to arrive. Inside my anger was slowly increasing toward boiling.
"CROW, GO HOME!" I shouted with an angry tone hoping he would at least go inside before a hundred cops and EMS people flooded the street (I was afraid they'd shoot him or run him over), but he ignored me which really pissed me off. My entire body started to tremble and I cried out "Stupid fucking dog!" I sputtered to Tom as I bit on my lip and shook my head side to side in anger, my tears flowed and I got sick to my stomach I was so mad. When it felt like I was about to barf I noticed a strange pair of sandals and a black leather cowboy hat on the grass near me. I had no idea where they came from.
"CROW! COME!" I screamed at him again but he stood there like a dog statue. "CROW!!" I screamed again but he was totally in his own world, maybe twelve feet away. I wanted to get up, run to him and kick his back thigh to get his attention but I could not let go of the knife wound or Tom might die even sooner. Crow never killed anything before, I had no idea how he felt, maybe he was just as scared as us and that's why he couldn't move. But I think if that guy tried to get up Crow would have attacked again. I looked at the body in the street, he was on his back in front of Tom's car, his feet were near the curb and Crow was standing on the grass watching with his head held low. It looked like he had his front legs spread wide, poised to attack.
Tom whispered. "Thanks for trying to save me," He had tears in his eyes too. It was an odd bonding moment we had in the front yard lit only by the front porch lights. I pictured us kissing an hour ago and told him that he'll be fine, but in my heart I knew he could have serious internal bleeding. I never saw how long the knife blade was. I looked around for the knife but it was too dark and my eyesight was wonky from all the tears. I leaned down and kissed Tom on the lips and he smiled and whispered, "You learn fast amigo."
I put my other hand on his stomach and slid my thumb back and forth across his belly button, it felt like it was full to the top with blood but Tom was too shocky to notice. His body had become cool and he looked pale too but his eyes stayed focused on mine. He had a pained grimace across his face and his gaze looked increasingly blank.
That was when I heard the first siren in the distance. "Hear that? Oh God please hurry!" I whispered to Tom but he just stared blankly at my face, his mouth was now open slightly too. I leaned over and placed another tiny kiss on his cheek and inhaled deeply to remember how he smelled. I started to weep again and begged Tom, "Please don't go!" But his eyes no longer followed mine and he stopped talking.
About the same moment I hit the front door light switches the police dispatcher transmitted a special radio signal that triggered alarms on the screens of every city vehicle radio and pocket pager that displayed an 'ALL STAFF' alert, (code for: city employees needed immediate help) all units must immediately respond. It even activated animal control, sewer/water, streets, utilities, all police, fire, EMS, and contractors. Every city worker in Amarillo was expected to literally drop and run to offer aid. It wasn't long after the first one arrived that a flood of vehicles showed up on our street. They came from home in trucks and cars, one guy came on a dirt bike down the sidewalk with a shotgun over his shoulder. Most came with hunting rifles, others just came. At first, even in the dark, they resembled an extremely angry mob.
It started with one distant siren then became two, then more and different ones, within seconds I heard sirens all around us, all of them were getting louder. Down the street towards the high school I heard the roar of a large engine as a vehicle turned on our street and the driver floored the gas pedal again. That engine screamed down the road and I saw flashing lights in the trees all around us.
I yelled at Crow to go to bed again, but when I looked up he was gone.
It actually looked like our neighborhood was being invaded by the Army. The first vehicle to arrive was some weird looking tactical thing (like a Humvee) that drove over the curb into the yard across the street and skidded to a stop near the front porch. The doors flew open and a bunch of soldiers jumped out and stormed the place across the street like a mini D-Day invasion. Lights were on inside the house, and then another guy dressed like a cowboy, holding a pistol walked out of the rental house and stood in the doorway. The soldiers that jumped out of the Humvee opened fire and the 2nd guy was hit several times. The impacts spun his body around, his head was smashed into the front door frame then he dropped to the porch in a heap. They ran up, grabbed his pistol and threw it onto the grass and dragged him to their driveway, checked for a pulse, then one guy stood up and pressed the end of his rifle against his chest and fired four more times. POP POP POP! Then the four men together stormed inside the house.
Through the first floor windows I saw bright flashes and loud bangs. I heard yelling and windows being violently smashed. I kept a steady grip on Tom's wound to hold the edges together but he was still dripping blood. My hands and clothes looked like I just slaughtered a hog with no apron on.
When I looked around again I saw more vehicles arrive. Some were civilian pick-up trucks with guys that jumped out with hunting rifles and shotguns in hand. I think some were aimed at us too. One guy stood in the street pointing around to scatter the men and direct them to enter every house on our block. A large van screeched to a stop at the end of our driveway and three guys in street clothes stormed across our driveway like combat medics at Omaha Beach (June 6, 1944). One of them grabbed me and literally tossed me aside onto the grass. They grabbed Tom's arms and legs and picked him up off the ground and set him on their backboard and (literally) ran him to their van (in the street), and immediately started to cut off his clothes. I got up and ran to our front door and screamed as loud as I could, "MOM!!!" then spun around and watched the dramatic nighttime invasion across of our neighborhood. She usually slept with her door shut so she might not have heard anything.
More and more and more vehicles arrived, more and more sirens and flashing lights woke up the neighborhood. Many of them raced up into people's yards and guys jumped out with weapons in hand. I bet by the time they moved Tom's body into the van there were at least 30 vehicles here. All up and down the street I saw house lights come on as everyone woke up to pounding on their door and armed men wanting to check inside that they weren't being held captive by cowboys from the house across the street.
Three soldiers with flashlights mounted on machine guns ran to the guy on the street, two aimed directly at him while the other straightened him out and checked for a neck pulse or breathing, I saw his bare feet with his toes pointed at the stars. Then I looked across our front yard and screamed, "CROW!!" But he was gone.
When I looked again at our house I saw the entire 4x6 living room picture window was blown out. There were big razor sharp slabs of glass stuck in the bushes below the window. My eyes welled up with tears again and I reached up and rubbed 'em so I could see again. I feared the worst scenario that I just lost my first boyfriend and my dog. I had no clue what Crow would do late at night in a totally new situation for him: dozens of heavily armed men in the street and across the street from our driveway. He's never seen anything like that before, even on TV! As I looked around I saw several people in our neighbors yards on the ground with their rifles aimed at me too, but for some reason I didn't feel I was in danger.
Apparently, Crow was in the living room and saw the guy stab Tom. He sprinted through the glass, picking up speed (39mph) as he crossed the yard, then straight at the guy's throat propelling him backwards about twelve feet. Crow hit him with enough force that he fell out of his sandals which were exactly where he stood when he stabbed Tom. It looked like the dog became airborne behind us, flew at the dude and hit him in the throat with his jaws wide open! That impact was like being smacked really hard with a baseball bat on your throat. That would pretty much permanently end your ability to breathe, it might have broken his spine too.
I walked down the driveway and stood behind Tom's car to watch the medics work. One guy started an IV in each arm while another put a big dressing on his belly after it looked like they taped it shut. The third medic cut off his jeans with trauma scissors. He started cutting by his ankles and in three seconds he had each leg sliced all the way up to his belt, he did one side then the other, they simply fell away. His shirt was already wide open so they just cut the sleeves. It was like in two minutes he was naked and had a cover over the wound and had two IVs going, one in each arm.
I held my bloody/sticky hands over my mouth because Tom looked dead. He was so pale gray even his lips were the same color as his forehead, his arms hung down like a corpse, his knuckles almost touched the steel deck inside the van. I had to look away and glanced around the area to look for my dog but he was still gone. I said out loud to myself, `Fucking dog, let's not turn one tragedy into two please!' My big fear was him being hit by a speeding police car. Crow had no understanding of how dangerous the streets were or how hard he was to see, especially at night. Black dog on a dark street at night, try to teach that to a dog! Dogs don't know we can't see at night like they do.
Crow was so trusting of people and loved cars so much he'd stand in the street in front of oncoming traffic and think: "Goody goody, here comes a car! I can go for a ride!"
I backed up and bumped into the back bumper of his car and watched as my first ever boyfriend died, I stood there and wept.
Movement to my left got my attention, I glanced at the front door and saw Mom shuffle outside in her robe and stuffed bear slippers with a horrified look on her face, her hands on her cheeks. She ran over and pulled me halfway up the driveway as the crew slammed the back doors shut and blasted off down the street with the siren screaming and blue and red lights flashing on all the houses. I tried to tell her I what happened but I could barely breathe. She ran back inside and got dressed while I backed her car into the front yard and looked to see if there was enough room on the street for us to leave. As I did that two armed men ran in our front door with flashlights to check our house.
While I waited for Mom another tactical armored car raced into the neighbor's yard with more soldiers, but these guys also had police dogs. I heard more breaking glass and men yelling inside that house as they literally ripped the structure apart room by room, wall by wall. I saw furniture and lamps fly out the upstairs windows as they emptied the rental house of everything and it all ended up in the front yard. They literally stripped it to the studs, by hand, in less than 18 minutes!
Mom drove us to the Trauma ER to check on Tom. I sat in back and wept most of the way, I honestly thought we'd get there to see him covered with a white sheet, his toes pointed at the ceiling. Mom asked me what happened and how we made the neighbor so mad, but his behavior was so odd Mom wouldn't believe we did nothing wrong. Her questions made me mad so I just stopped answering and wept into my bloody hands instead. On the way north to the hospital she even cursed the traffic lights so we could get moving again.
We parked outside where we saw the big red sign that said: EMERGENCY. I ran down the hallway to trauma room four and Mom tried to keep-up with me but what we saw was very different from what I expected. I breathlessly ran in the room with my bloody face wet with tears and Mom arrived seconds later (also panting heavily). Tom was on his back on the ER cart covered only by a white sheet he had slid down to his groin. The entire area around his wound was yellowed from Iodine skin cleaner. His flesh looked very brown in that bright white trauma room with him reclined on plain white sheets. He had blood soaked gauze over the cut but he was wide awake. We immediately made eye contact and I could not make any sense out of the expression on his face. I think Tom's brain was overloaded.
He turned his head and stared at me and said he'd had a Cat-Scan and they were coming with an ultrasound machine to look inside his belly. Tom was awake and talking and his color looked better. He said they already called his Mom and she was on her way (in a taxi). Mom gestured to me to use the sink to wash the blood off my hands, arms, and face. All my fingernails had dried blood under them and my clothes had bloody smears too. Tom chuckled and said I was bloodier than him, but I was too freaked out to talk, I thought he was dead but I guess maybe he just fainted. My brain was like stunned or something, I could barely talk. I even considered that maybe this was all a really bad dream because it was too surreal to actually happen.
They had us leave the room while the tech scanned his belly with the ultrasound probe on a long cable. I think the ultrasound tech had to fully uncover his groin to get the images the way the doc needed to see them, that's why we got sent out to the lobby.
We saw a frantic looking Maria run in the ER lobby doors while we waited for the tech to finish his belly scan so I ran over and hugged her in the middle of the ER lobby while she cried. I told her what happened but I don't think she heard anything I said, other than he looked much better and we could go back any minute now.
We had a little time to talk but she was too upset, she wanted to see 'Little Tommy' immediately. Mom told Maria it looked like he wasn't seriously hurt after all. The two moms sat side by side, Mom tried to comfort Maria but all she did was tremble and cry and keep watching for someone to call us back.
Finally, they had us all come back to the room. Mom and I stood in the hallway while the PA talked to Tom and Maria, we heard her weeping, even with the doors closed. Mom had a scared look on her face too.
When they walked past the room I stopped the ambulance crew and thanked them for saving Tom. One of the guys acted like it was no big deal, it's what they did every day. A cop stopped by us and walked up to Mom, shook her hand and thanked her for her work (she invented the bullet proof (fabric) clothing that every one of them wore now that was much lighter and cooler than the old vests with metal plates). The new uniforms were invented, patented, built, and proven here in Amarillo, all the city employees got them for free (Mom paid for it). They also wore them in zoos and for protection from shark bite too, but it looked like a regular cloth blend uniform shirt and pants. It made her somewhat of a celebrity in town to police and fire and at the factory where the new fabric was made and sewn into uniforms. Mom never told me how much she made off that invention and the sale of uniforms around the world.
Once people said her name out loud then fire department and ambulance people came by and wanted to shake her hand. In town she is a celebrity amongst those guys because she saved their lives. In the early days of uniform testing all of them had to come to our house in the evening to get their free uniforms, so that was how they knew Mom. But that was back when I was in 4th grade so none of them recognized me.
They discharged Tom an hour later after twenty eight perfectly spaced and straight stitches. No major damage really, bending over pulled his stomach back so the knife really only cut his skin, the muscle underneath, and it nicked the outside of his small intestine. He got an antibiotic shot in his butt after the PA was done stitching him back together. I was amazed by the sewing job the PA did on his belly, her stitching was so uniform it looked like it was done with a sewing machine. Mom offered to drive them home so we all left in our car.
Tom fished their car keys from his shredded jeans and handed them to me on the way. Since they cut off his clothes they gave him disposable paper pajamas to wear. We drove them to our house but Maria was too upset to drive. I got in Maria's car and drove it across town to their place and parked it in their garage and handed her the keys, then Mom drove me home. I wanted to stay with Tom but he needed his mommy instead. On the drive home I saw mental images of his belly button full of blood and almost cried, and then I remembered my dog was missing so I begged Mom to drive faster.
Back at home she wanted me to help her cover the broken window first.
We used gray tape to fasten the white sheer curtains tightly across the entire 4x6 window. While we were taping it in place I heard soldiers in the street say, "...Dude was killed by a flying Great Dane..." as they tried to fit him inside a body bag. One soldier near the van shouted not to move it yet, the coroner was on the way. One of the men commented, "What do you mean, Great Danes can't fly." But the first guy said, "That's what they all said happened, right into his throat. And it happened up in the yard, see his shoes?" They both looked to see his shoes then one of them mumbled, "Holee fuck! Now I have seen it all!"
Guys dressed like soldiers were across the street all night. The newspaper said they found twenty pounds of marijuana, two pounds of heroin, and six handguns. It looked like they destroyed the inside of that house. Their front yard was turned into a pile of busted furniture, clothes, broken glass, cabinet doors, and big chunks of drywall. They literally stripped the entire house to the studs and tossed everything out the upstairs windows and into a pile in the front yard.
Jokingly, Mom said it was okay because now they could do a proper termite inspection.
After we covered the window I grabbed our best flashlight and ran outside to find Crow, my search started in our back yard. After that I silently slipped over the wall towards Daniel's house and checked outside his house then I jogged towards the student parking lot and softly called his name again and again, I knew he'd be listening for me.
A few minutes later I heard the sound of large animal feet running on wet grass. I knew the sound of his feet running at full speed, it sort of sounds like a horse race. Then something came at me from the shadows. Out of the darkness he appeared running straight at me, which could be a really bad thing. In a panic I quickly dropped to my knees and braced myself for a powerful impact. He crashed into me at nearly 40mph across from the student parking lot. He had so much momentum he ran past me then slammed on the brakes and turned around and raced back and lunged at my face. By then I was flat on the grass between the sidewalk and the street in someone's yard.
Crow actually cried loudly while he violently licked my face. It was a tremendous show of emotion for a dog, I've never seen frantic behavior from him before, Crow was actually hysterical. He yelped loudly again and again like he was being beat as he licked my face. His tongue attack on my face was so violent I felt he was biting me with his front teeth too! I raised my hands to try to stop him.
I managed to get back up on my knees and grabbed him tightly and pulled him against me and whispered in his ear "Calm down," but most of all I wanted his suffering to end.
It reminded me of the time he got stung by a wasp when he was only three weeks old and cried loudly and ran into me and frantically struggled to get under my shirt and hide. That bee came after me but I caught it on my arm before it could sting again and smashed it with my other hand. After he emerged from my pouch I held up the smashed bee and he tried to bite it, so I dropped it and smashed it under my shoe.
I finally got Crow down on the grass and held him down on his side and massaged him slowly and told him over and over to calm down. While I rubbed him with my hands over his entire body I checked for blood or glass cuts. I honestly expected to find shards of window glass sticking out of his body, but I found nothing at all.
It took several minutes but he started to calm down. When he was no longer in a panic I got him up on his feet and we walked home with my fingers tightly clenching his collar, he dragged his feet and toe nails on the sidewalk all the way home, obviously exhausted. Back at home he went straight for his water bowl. I let him drink a little then I took it away and quickly scrubbed it clean and refilled it with cold water and several ice cubes. He immediately started drinking again then munched the ice cubes. Every time Crow ate ice cubes he always looked at me, but I got no idea why he did that. I think he was saying `thanks' because he loves chewing ice cubes.
After he had a chance to recover and use the back yard I got the leash on him and we went outside to our front yard and sat on the grass and watched the show across the street while I tried to calm myself down. More and more chunks of drywall flew out the windows while we watched. Two guys carried a refrigerator out the front door and heaved it on top of the growing pile in the yard. Crow sat upright beside me, leaned against me. We saw lots of the response team slowly packed up and left. But the crew of 10 soldiers worked inside that house all night stripping it of everything except the kitchen flooring.
Crow sat up and his ears perked up when one of the drug sniffing dogs left and they got in a civilian car and drove away.
I think what Crow did was after the first tactical Army vehicle arrived he freaked out (because of the noise and soldiers) and ran to the baseball field and waited for me but when he heard my voice he raced towards me but forgot to slow down in those last few feet. My guess was he frantically paced the baseball field watching for almost two hours for me to come get him. I had no clue why he didn't hide in his own back yard, but it came to me that maybe the three military vehicles and the soldiers scared him and our yard was too close. The thought crossed my mind that Crow might get in trouble for killing someone, even in self defense. They'd have to kill me too if that was the case, nobody's gonna hurt him as long as I'm alive. And I meant that literally.
After the coroner van arrived we walked near the body in the street, Crow sniffed his exposed bare feet, toes pointing at the sky. I whispered to him over and over, `dead.' I walked up into our yard and grabbed his sandals and cowboy hat and dropped them by his feet. The guy also took photos of where I said his sandals were. You could see the puddle of Tom's blood in the grass still.
I kneeled by the body and told Crow again, He's all gone, dead.' I repeated the word Dead' slowly, about ten times, which was a signal to Crow it was a word I wanted him to learn. That was the same way I taught him other words (like: squirrel, Mom, Daniel, cat, animal, and lots of others that represented things but were not commands). Crow actually had a rather large vocabulary and I was always careful to talk slowly and clearly to him. And he was trained to the word CEASE instead of saying NO. Cease meant to immediately stop whatever he was doing.
Two guys spread out a white plastic body bag beside him and unzipped it. Then they lifted him by his ankles and arm pits and set him on the bag. They moved his legs and head so he was fully inside then zipped it shut. The bag had canvas straps, so they use those to lift the bag and load it onto a cart and put it inside their van, locked it in place, shut the back doors, and left. Back inside I took Crow to my bathroom and used a washcloth to clean his face (and ears) and look closely for any injuries but I found nothing from nose to tail, maybe some tiny tiny red scratches inside his ears were all I saw. Just in case I gave Crow a dog pain pill in a scoop of peanut butter.
As I cleaned his face with a soapy washcloth he sat there on the bathroom floor and tolerated what I was doing. No dog liked being washed, neither does Crow but this was one of the things he still let me do, as an exercise of supremacy over him he tolerated me cleaning him. I did his entire body with the washcloth and took time to also clean his usually nasty ears. I even raised his cheeks to look at his gums and tongue for cuts but the only thing I saw was some scratches inside his ears that had already scabbed over. I was surprised he went through that window without a single cut, but I was glad he did because I cannot imagine what might have happened to us if he had he slept in Mom's bed that night with her door closed. I think it would have been Tom or me in that body bag.
Tomorrow.
Mom found out the next day (at work from the feds) that Crow had impacted the guy's throat, he suffocated when it swelled shut. They said the dog teeth diced the outside of his neck and if he had been able to breathe he would have bled to death anyway. I wondered if they looked to see if his spine was broken, I bet it was.
After the board-up guys left Mom drove us to the store so I could buy our hero-dog a steak. She sat in the car with Crow while I went inside to spend my hard earned savings. I stood at the display case in the meat department looking at all the packages and asked myself, `If I was a Great Dane which steak would I pick?' I've never purchased a steak before in my life. I had no idea what to get aside from it being a one inch thick slab of tail waggin' goodness.
Of course it's impossible to sneak anything past Crow, the dog closely watched everything and sniffed the air constantly. He's never been in the grocery store parking lot before but I'm sure he recognized the scent from when we came home with groceries. I spent $13.50 on a very large thick rib-eye steak for my best friend.
When I left the store I saw the big dog head sticking out the back seat window of Mom's car, he'd already zeroed in on me, his nose already sniffing the air. I asked Mom to drive faster, Crow was already drooling. I'm sure he knew what was about to happen. That was more proof to me the extent to which he learned English and body language that he somehow knew the steak was for him because of how he saved us from the idiot with the knife. He put his life at risk a few times that evening just to protect us, and that's what I call selfless! And he was never trained to do it, Crow did it because that's the kind of person he was. Selfless, and maybe a little obsessed too. I think that meant Crow was an actual hero.
I cooked the rib-eye in Mom's big iron skillet with salt and butter until it measured 135 degrees then put it on the cutting board and quickly sliced it into fifteen pieces the size of an ice cube while Mom scooped him a bowl of vanilla ice cream (four scoops). He never ate a steak before but even with ice cream out on the counter he still did not take his eyes and nose off the plate of meat. While it was cooking on the pan I told him it was called: Good. Dog. Steak.
After it was ready to go we got Crow to lie upright on the kitchen floor, I sat on the floor and gently hand fed him while Mom sat at the bar and watched. He needed to be reminded twice not to bite my fingers along with the chunks of steak cooked a nearly perfect medium rare. The first bite went badly, he took two fingers in his mouth so I pulled my hand back and held it up in the air and reminded him to eat gently. I set each cube of steak on my palm and he turned his head and grabbed them with his front teeth and tongue, one at a time. Mom said he never chewed 'em.
My hand was totally slimed with gooey dog drool by the time he inhaled the last piece. Then I tightly held the bowl over my lap while that long tongue skillfully lapped up the ice cream that Mom had smashed and stirred into something like soft-serve with a fork. Since it was his treat we let him clean the bowl and the plate too. When he was done we applauded and hugged him.
Mom joined me on the floor and we both kissed him and told him he was a good boy. I knew he understood why he got his most favorite foods and didn't have to do anything first. I saw it in his eyes, Crow was happy beyond words. There he was on the floor with his pack after eating his most favorite person-foods, and now he was the center of attention. For a Great Dane life don't get much better than that. We could see it in his face, he was super happy and proud. Not only that but he was the only person in our pack that ate steak and ice cream that evening!
My dog was a hero and we were very proud of him, but slightly wished he hadn't done it. He was so totally obsessed with protecting us (especially me) and I didn't think there was any way to stop him from doing it again. Who knows what he might misinterpret as an attack someday just to earn another dinner reward. I would never put it past any dog that they might pull a stunt like that to earn a steak and ice cream.
When I paused to think about Crow, if he saw anyone attack me it was likely he'd turn into a powerful killing machine again. Those big leg muscles, his deep lungs, and those very long teeth were there for specific reasons, watching TV and eating a bowl of ice cream weren't any of them. It's very hard to imagine that deep inside dogs were actually designed to be protector-hunter-killers for their pack. That is not at all how most dogs lived today, on the sofa in climate controlled comfort, watching Animal Planet on the TV.
Yes, our lazy ass dog actually watches TV as long as there are some kind of animal on the screen. He is fascinated by all the different types of animals in the world.
In the past Daniel and I frequently wrestled and discussed what might happen if Crow suddenly tried to protect me. We tried it one time and Crow frantically paced around and moaned loudly in protest so we never did it again in front of the dog.
Mom and I discuss Crow on a regular basis and we both agreed that keeping a giant dog in the house was risky, our best bet would be to treat him with love, respect, and control. Crow has never been spanked or hurt in his entire life and he seemed to reflect those behaviors back at us. Mom said she thought Crow had a much deeper understanding of us as a pack then we'd ever realize. I was certain he understood that Mom was my mother and not just some pack member.
And she said even though he was soft, cuddly, and affectionate he saw himself as a grown man, not like how we treated him like a dog-shaped teddy bear, and he probably did not like us talking to him as if he was a child. Dogs certainly understood our tone of voice because dogs used tone of voice too.
Mom said even a grown Teacup Yorkie saw himself as a man, and not a living stuffed animal like he appeared to humans.
When the insurance guys were here to properly board-up the living room window Crow leaned against her hip as Danes are (well) known to do. She patted his neck and turned to me, pointed at the window and said, "Hand of God." That was her explanation for how he went through the glass without injury. I bet his nose hurt for days afterward. I told her I asked Crow if he had pain that evening but he ignored me.
Two days later the house across the street was no longer a crime scene and a crew of men arrived with a big trash dumpster and they loaded all the stuff in the yard into the dumpster. Then another crew boarded up the house and finished cleaning the yard and then they even painted the boards so it barely looked like anything was wrong. I wanted to check out the door frame to count all the bullet holes.
Ten days later Tom came over to formally thank his rescuer, face to face (actually it was more like nose to nose). He stopped by on his way home from getting his stitches out. Before Tom came inside I suggested we go to the TV-room and Tom should get down on his knees right away, which would put him at eye level with Crow (which seemed to make the dog less aggressive). Tom went inside and sat on the sofa but we already locked Crow in my bedroom. After Tom was ready I simply opened the door and Crow stepped out, sniffed the air and moved quickly to the TV room because he smelled a stranger in the house. He went directly to Tom but took a couple seconds to recognize him, then I could see Crow had a flood of emotions and his tail went crazy swaying side to side and he hugged Tom by gently resting his head on Tom's shoulder and stayed there for several seconds, without being told.
Tom fought back emotional tears as he slid off the sofa onto his knees and hugged Crow tightly. While he held Crow he looked at Mom and said that the dog's fur felt very soft.
Before Tom arrived we knew what Crow would do to him but didn't warn him, it's kind of like an initiation to life with a 150 pound dog.
He leaned back from the dog and as a tear ran down his cheek he simply told Crow, `Thank you for saving me,' then wiped his eyes dry with his sleeve. Mom already left for the kitchen counter to grab something Tom was about to need.
Crow stepped back looking Tom in the eyes, maybe six inches nose to nose, then as fast as lightning that huge red Great Dane tongue slipped out and slid across his face from chin to eyebrows. That meant Crow liked him. We all laughed as Tom put his hands on his face and cried `Ughhhhhh,' Mom handed Tom paper towels before he asked. This was not our first Great Dane rodeo, sooner or later everyone got slimed.
Tom said all he saw was a flash of red and suddenly his face was wet and gooey! We laughed as Tom washed his face in the kitchen sink. He was still sniffling a little from nearly crying. I think all of us got emotional watching them hug and when Tom thanked the dog and barely squeaked out the words without crying. We both felt the dog totally understood what Tom said.
The four of us went into the living room to look at the busted window, Mom was still amazed that Crow went through it without injury. She showed Tom two small round holes in the sofa cushion from when he pushed off. Luckily it was a single pane window. The new one will be double pane. We agreed to keep sheer curtains across that window from now on.
The rental agency eventually repaired and sold the house across the street. It was purchased by an elderly couple with a cat.
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This seems like a nice place to end the book but we have 15 more chapters to go!