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echo: yabbs.poetry
to: ALL
from: Covenant@yabbs
date: 1994-07-02 03:42:59
subject: part two of pity

From: Covenant@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: part two of pity
Date: Sat Jul  2 03:42:59 1994

Immedialtely, we knew what had to be done.  He was old.  He'd given
up on life as nature demanded.  I walked back to the house.
It was lying there above the fireplace.  It looked cold.  An old
companion of rabbit hunting, I grabbed it.  A box of slugs, not buckshot,
came with me also.  I'll not lie.  I was crying.  
I made it down the bank and handed the shotgun to my Dad.  I never
want to see that look on his face again.  He couldn't swat a fly without
thinking about it.  This was too real.
Fireboss was lying in agony.  I wish I could say otherwise, but that's
the only word that can describe his pain.  He was dying and he knew it.  I 
know it sounds stupid, but there was a sense of finality in his pain.  The
end was near even without us.
"I'll do it," Dave said.  "It's easier if you're not attached."  
His words made sense, but I could see that he didn't believe one
word of it.  Dave was not a saint, but we'll never forget the thing that he
did for us that day.  I've seen him take a job while collecting welfare, and 
his son and I weren't unfamiliar with the 'five-fingered-discount", but I'll
never say anything against him.  He walked up to the beast that we loved.

SOURCE: yabbs via textfiles.com

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