I married a madman. I married a man who took great pride in the masterful beasts he kept tied up in he back yard. The Dobermans, the shepherds, the collie–beautiful animals, all.
And all they wanted was some love and care.
When summer came, he walked so proud in the park, in the street, with the dogs at his side. He wouldn’t let me go to the corner store unless I took one of those huge animals with me, ‘cause he figured no man would try to get but so close, with one of them standing next to me. When fall came, he groomed his dogs and cared for them, and loved them all.
But, hey! When winter came – oops! That’s it. Dead dogs. “I ain’t goin’ out there in that cold to feed no damn dog. You’re crazy”. Wouldn’t let me go feed them either. I cant imagine what he was thinking. I couldn’t go out there and flirt with the dog. Winter came – dog died. You could set your clock by it. I was with that man three winters. Three winters–three dead dogs.
And the man would come and take them away, dragging them through the snow by their leash. And we went on about our lives.
Spring came and he’d go out, get another dog. To Euric, dogs were like toys you play with, discard, go buy new. Used to give me cause for pause. I used to think–“what if he sets me out there too? What if he forgets about me, the way he did the dogs?”
It could happen, you know.