So I'm a city boy through and through. Even though we moved to the "burbs" back in 1989 and have lived here since, I grew up in the Bronx, NY (well, never really grew up, still a kid at heart), and so knew nothing of raccoons, etc. Only thing I ever saw that scared me was a big ol' waterbug on a sewer grate and Praying Mantis which my friend told me I could go to jail if I killed it. Still don't know if that's true.
So in 1989 we move on up and rent a house on 7 acres. One night I hear noise outside, go out and my garbage cans are knocked over and there's a mess. I clean it up and wasn't happy. Few nights later I hear the noise, grab a baseball bat and go outside. About 10 feet from me, standing on top of a garbage can with the lid of another in his claw was a giant ****. He stared me down as if to say, bring it on with that bat. I backed back into my house, locked the door and was done. I know, call me the p word for a cat.
Fast forward about 20 years. I'm living in my current home, still in the 'burbs and I go out one morning to leave for work and I hear something as I open my side door.
I see, or at least I think I do, my pitbull, 120 pounds of him, attacking my dog de bordeaux, also known as a French Mastiff, you know, Hooch from that Tom Hanks movie Turner and Hooch.
Well, I completely freak out. They always got along and I could not believe he was killing him. I then out of the corner of my eye see my Mastiff. She wasn't on the ground at all. She was trying to bite the '**** my pit was killing on the ground. The **** was huge, blended in with the concrete. I quickly went back inside, was too shaken to get my camera which I wanted to do. I was shaking because at first I thought he was killing my other dog. Then when I realized it was a ****, I was shocked even more. I went back out and he had that **** pinned down by the neck. I wanted him to let go but he wouldn't. I grabbed my garden hose, sprayed him and he immediately backed off.
The **** was deadsville. Not moving. I grabbed a shovel, scooped it up, held it outstretched, and was barely able to hold it, must have weighed over 25 pounds. I carried it up to the road and dumped it on the side.
Called the health dept, or possibly animal control, don't recall, and oh what a mess. Wanted to know if i touched it, that I might have rabies, etc.
I said I didn't touch it, that it crawled up the driveway and died on the road. And my dog just needed a booster.
My wife was also freaked out a bit and was like, we should get rid of the pitbull. Well, no way in h e l l would I do that. I told a girl at work the story and what my wife said and she was like, is she nuts? Get your dog a big steak for dinner. He did a good thing.
He didn't have a mark on him.
