On this day in 2015, Bobby was murdered

Of all the odd things, I took a self-portrait.

I found the pieces of his butchered body but couldn’t bring myself to collect or even remove them from the road.

I sobbed so hard for about 2.5 hrs.

At that point, I assumed that he had been hit and hit and hit by passing vehicles.

It was Spike who discovered the truth: he had been shot, mangled and dumped on the road to disguise the deed.

He was the 4th dog within 1.5 miles this happened to in a 2 month period.

I had to speak with the Countyseat, Police, Animal Welfare and others.

They kept apologising for very detailed and specific questions. I told them I didn’t have the energy to be affected in the moment, go ahead.

The perpetrator wasn’t found but we have 2 neighbours who like to say with pride that they’re dog killers.

Naught so queer as folk.

I took the photo to remember how very tired I was, just numb with fatigue and I suppose still shock.

I recall thinking that I could do this because people whose human babies were killed had to answer the same gruesome questions.

It was a learning experience.

  
Most of you don’t know me IRL but for those who do, this is a look of emotional and intellectual exhaustion. 

Losing my mammy and my best friend (from age 3 at age 17) nearly killed me. Losing Bobby, who was special needs was a different kind of thing. I spent 6 years doing everything I could to make him comfortable and happy. I couldn’t help him in the end and that was what bothered me most. I failed him.

I know…don’t get me wrong–the fuckhead who did it was at fault. But I’m saying the internalisation was, I failed him in the worst way. 

MO Conservationist Magazine archived ONLINE! (& ambient sound video from today)

I was looking for a specific thing (as I do all the time) on my phone, using ‘missouri conservation _______.’ I start the searches with MO Conservation because the department is a wealth of info, often provided as short description and then related links galore, often scientific papers by geologists, botanists and conservationists-proper. The magazine titled Missouri Conservationist is a publication I grew up reading. I have a stack of recent issues that I not only enjoy reading but often curate with my own -usually drunk when I do this goofball insights. -by ‘insights’ I mean poking fun of being a Hillbilly amongst hillbillies

Then, if’n yer lucky, I post them to you! It’s a play on the postcard circle only you get a glossy magazine that I’ve defaced with bullshit. -lucky you!

ANYWAY I was searching for whatever and Dr. Google offered a link that said Missouri Conservationist, March 2015. I was like: w–w–WOT?! Clicked and a lurvely pdf downloaded to my Safari mobile and I skimmed through last month’s magazine online!!

I KNOW!

Way-Back Machine: Beginning July 1977

Recent Issues: Beginning July 1995

So, I ‘ve got that going for me. Now, I’ll have to DL issues and mark-up when I’m drunk in Evernote then spam people. -FA!

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Listen, Bobby’s still dead and I’m still in mourning but I’m also still half-Irish and half-Jew. You can’t keep me down in the mouth for long. I’m dreading the next month or so of driving to and from home, passing his smear mark on our road but Death is part of Life. His being killed is an extra-shitty part but that happens, too.

Video: ambient sound of wildlife and view of dogwoods across the back pasture. I’m not crying in the video, my voice is just extra-husky as it’s morning.

quoth theBobby: your arse looks big

Allow me to PREFACE by saying that I did not ask him if my arse looked big. I asked, ‘Do you like this skirt?’

His response was: Your arse looks big in that skirt.

In fairness to Himses opinion, this is a side-angle, not full-on, Volvo Grille view.



As usual, he thinks his arse is delectable.