On our pseudo-daily walk today, CP told me a story that I felt the need to pass on to my faithful LJ readers. This is a story that was passed on to her by her husband, a carpenter. I smell urban legend, but regardless, it was too good, and too painful to keep to myself. It goes like this:
One of CP’s husband’s carpenter friends and his buddy were working on a home in Vermont a few summers ago. The carpenter decided, as most Vermont carpenters apparently do, to bring his dog with him that day. And because many Vermont home owners are rich snobs, the owner of the home took one look at the dog and said, “I don’t want dogs on my lawn.” So the dog was reluctantly banished to his owner’s truck (with the windows down, of course).
After the home owner left for the day with her young daughter in hand, and because the home was in a remote location, the dog’s owner felt that there would be no harm in letting his little friend out of his vehicular cage to run around for a bit. And so he did. An hour or so later, his dog emerged from behind the house carrying a dead and dirty cat in his mouth. The cat, who, for the sake of the story, will be called Fluffy, had a collar with a tag wrapped around the very same neck on which the dog had been chewing. The collar listed the home owner’s address. The dog owner and his friend silently screamed.
It’s hard to imagine what you’re capable of doing when placed in a situation such as this one. I, for one, might have fainted and then, subsequently run away, never looking back on the home, its owner, and the half-day’s pay I was leaving behind me. Others might have ventured to the local pet store to find a suitable match. Others still might have thrown the cat in the woods and pretended nothing had happened. With this in mind, reader, please do your best to refrain from judging the reaction of the dog owner and his friend. For it’s a reasonable assumption that they must have passed plenty of judgment on themselves as they stood there in their customer’s bathroom, washing and blow drying the dead pet cat’s fur.
After Fluffy’s coat of fur was cleansed as best as could be, the dog owner and his friend decided to place her on a chair near a window, curling her up in a position in which they imagined all pet cats found themselves at one point or another during the day. At this point, with the dog safely back in the car, and the dead cat pretending to be alive, the dog owner and his friend went back to work. As if on cue, shortly thereafter, the home owner and her daughter returned home. As the mother and daughter entered their home, the dog owner and his friend held their breath. A minute or two later, the expected shrieks from the young girl could be heard coming from inside the home.
When all was said and done, the dog owner and his friend learned a lesson on the value of honesty. Though most people would never have told the truth in a situation like that, the shocking heartache the young girl experienced that day could have been avoided if the dog owner and his friend had come clean when they had had the chance. Instead, they had to answer to the home owner and her crying daughter. But seriously, can you blame them for what they did? I mean, honestly, how were they supposed to know that they spent an hour that day cleaning up and placing Fluffy in her family’s home only days after her family had buried her in the backyard?
Benchly'sword 