Friday, November 26, 2010

Last Rites For A North Minneapolis Pit Bull...


Photos and blog post by John Hoff

This is not a happy story about a dog. If you are quite sensitive and would find a dark story about the death of a canine too disturbing to bear, you won't want to click the "Read More" and read the rest...

But I see you're not that kind of person. Fine, then.

It was Thanksgiving morning and everybody had places to be: I needed to pick up my son in the affluent south suburb where he lives, for four days of visitation. My girlfriend, North Minneapolis super citizen Megan Goodmundson, was making green beans almondine with maple dijon dressing for the police officers at the Fourth Precinct, and some chocolate dipped orange clementines for good measure. Really, nothing is too good for our cops.

We were going from Point A To Point B, crossing the intersection of 26th and Emerson, when Megan spotted a large dog laying on the sidewalk, looking dead or injured. Megan stayed in the car while I got out to deal with whatever was dead, dangerous and/or gross.

The dog was indeed dead, and frozen stiff, but not frozen solid. His eyes were open and the palest shade of blue. His tongue was extended. There was no blood, no sign of a wound, but there he lay dead. The dog was obviously NOT NEUTERED, with testicles like a woman's handbag.

Megan called the police, but the dispatcher said Animal Control wouldn't be around until Saturday.

"So this dog is supposed to lay on the sidewalk for two days?!" Megan asked, in a tone of disbelief.

Affirmative. Nothing could be done until Animal Control returned on Saturday. Megan wanted to be mad, but it wasn't the fault of the dispatcher. But having this big, dead dog lay on the sidewalk for two days over the Thanksgiving holiday, in plain sight of a major intersection wasn't acceptable.

It was time to take matters into our own hands: we obtained a heavy duty black contractor bag and I scooped up the dog for transport to a more private and controlled location. All of the great outdoors would be a meat cooler until Saturday, when a pickup could be arranged, hopefully, with Animal Control. As I bagged up the dog, I saw his body heat had melted through to a patch of sidewalk.

So, clearly, he'd been alive when he laid down and died. Even on the "sidewalk side" of the animal, I didn't see any wounds or blood. Perhaps he'd been hit by a vehicle, sure, but the injury wasn't obvious. I wondered how long he laid like that, how much pain he experienced, and what exactly had happened.

Incredibly, I thought I recognized the dog: it looked like the exact same pit bull I'd called about in an incident on the Jordan Pond, click here.

As rough as those last rites were, as unpleasant as the task was on Thanksgiving morning, I took some quantum of solace in the belief I was showing that animal more kindness and decency in its death than it may have received during its life. Just as important to me: my neighborhood is not a ghetto where a dead pit bull lays in the street for days at a time. My neighborhood is nice and getting nicer every day. When something bad happens, there are decent people who will not hesitate to take matters into their own hands, and do something.

12 comments:

Anonymous said...

17% Property tax increase and that's what you get for "services" in Minneapolis.

Folwell Fox said...

This is just another example of behavior (not yours Johnny) indicative of sociopaths who would have served the world better as a stain on the mattress after running down their mother's ass-crack.

Anonymous said...

Sad story. Clearly a pet that got loose and must have been hit by a car. He had manicured nails so he must have been cared for. Hopefully, he has a microchip or some other ID so the owners can be notified. Nice of you to care for the body until animal control can get him.

Johnny Northside! said...

Yeah, well, they were supposed to get him today, Saturday, but now the word is Sunday.

Johnny Northside! said...

Update: The pit bull involved in the Jordan Pond incident was NOT the same pit bull as this incident, though it looks nearly identical. The non-accounts with the other pit bull were seen with that dog today.

NoMi Passenger said...

@Folwell Fox - LOL, we just watched Full Metal Jacket the other night!

Johnny Northside! said...

Technically, I watched Full Metal Jacket and NoMi Passenger fell asleep before the climactic Tet Offensive scenes.

Folwell Fox said...

Good grab! My use of the term "sock-babies" gets a little redundant, needed to freshen things up a bit. Plus, people around here need more "R. Lee Ermey discipline".

It's funny how people think they can take care of and afford a pet when they can't even afford the "big" bag of Cheetos or even real fruit juice. "Between Jan. and Oct. this year 2,588 animals were brought into MACC after being surrendered by their owners, brought in as strays, or acquired for other reasons by Animal Control officers...38% were put to death." (NorthNews Nov. 24 2010, Vol. 20 No. 9).

This number would have been 2,589 if I didn't decided to personally spend $400 trying to save an abandoned cat (to no avail). At least he was comfortable and shown affection and love in his finally days. I stand by my opinion that some pet "handlers" (they don't even deserve to be called "owners") are sociopathic and should be nowhere near animals.

daningo said...

:( so sad. Thanks for removing the dog so he didn't lay there for 2 days.

Anonymous said...

Folwell Fox spent 400 dollars trying to save an animal that they should have put to rest for humane purposes alone. You say you PERSONALLY did this to let us all know that you are self righteous and definitely narcissistic. You are a presumptuous idiot who believes that all of the dogs that are put to sleep are owned by Black people and are pit bulls and all Black people eat Cheetos and drink fake fruit juice. I am guessing you are choking on Lutefisk this evening, Mr. White Guy, while jamming lefse through your filthy meth mouth. Hey, all White guys smoke meth, don't they? Your friendly neighborhood cigar store Indian thinks you are all snakes in the grass.Ooops!

Johnny Northside! said...

Actually, I only eat lutefisk the week of Christmas. Guess I told you.

MunchMommy said...

I would like to tell you about the dog in this story, because I would recognize him anywhere. He is mine and I loved him, and he was stolen from me on New Years Eve2007/2008. His name is Munch, and when he was a puppy I rescued him from an abandoned house, where he had been locked in a closet and fed chicken bones in hopes that he would choke to death. Someone alerted me to the situation and I promptly went there and got him. When I got him back to my house, I gave him a warm bath and then fed him, and he ate and ate until he could not stand up, so I dubbed him Munch. Then he fell asleep under my desk near my feet, which was his usual spot for the next several months. Munch traveled with my husband and I to Mt. Rushmore, went camping in Wisconsin, and had just returned from a Christmas trip to Chicago with me just a week before he was stolen. Many times I was offered hundreds of dollars in cash for my beloved Munch, and always refused. He was truly my best friend, especially toward the end, after my husband was arrested and I wound up homeless, pregnant and living in my car for a short time. We pulled in from the Chicago trip on Christmas Eve, and when I stopped for gas, I accidentally locked my keys in my car. Reluctantly I smashed out the tiny little window near the back door of my crappy car/apartment so I could get in. Munch snuggled me, kept me warm, kept me company and mostly kept me sane during that horrible dead of winter week. Then on New Years Day 2008, I awoke to find him gone and the measly tape job on the window sliced, back door slightly open. In the 6 years since then I have always wondered where he was. I searched the NoMi, but never saw him. I paged thru hundreds of photos at the animal shelter, hoping he would turn up there and put my mind at ease. Nothing...until today, when I just happened to stumble across your blog, and this story. Shortly after he disappeared, I traded in the street life for better horizons with a new baby and a reformed husband, but I have always missed my beloved pit, who never growled at anyone, or showed a single notion of meanness to anyone, who always wagged his tail and loved bananas, and ate the interior door panel off my husbands truck when we left him locked in it, just once, to eat at an Old Country Buffet. While I write this, I am bawling like a baby, partly because he deserved SO much better than to perish in the street, and partly because I am grateful that I know now. Thank you for assuring me that he isn't being fought against another dog, or chained to a bare patch of dirt somewhere, sad and mistreated. Thank you for not just leaving him there. Thank you.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=t840IVR3EpU