Like so many stories I remember this one occurred on 23rd Avenue, Oakland, California.
There were a bunch of us boys who hung out together but during summer vacation the gang thinned out. The parents either went out of town for a while or got the boys a job or some other reason some of the guys weren’t around.
I was friends with a boy named Billy Joe. He had a terrier dog named Pooch, who hung out with us most of the time. Pooch was a gritty little dog and would pick a fight with every dog he saw. He whipped every dog he got into a fight with and he was pretty sassy.
In those days most people let their dogs run loose and not on a leash. This one day Billy Joe went off with some other boys and pooch was just running loose on his own.
I had gone down to the Saturday matinee theater and was waiting with a group of people for the box office to open. While waiting Pooch was hanging out with us when someone came by with a small screw tail bull dog.
It didn’t take long for Pooch to decide to whip the bull dog and he was on him in an instant.
I was waiting for the bull dog to start running for his life when all of a sudden Pooch was screaming for mercy. The bull dog’s jaws had clamped down on Pooch and was inflicting pain like Pooch had never experienced.
After what seemed like a long time Pooch broke loose and lit out. As far as he was concerned the fight was over. He ran between two cars into the street and was hit by a car and killed.
You might say Pooch had a really bad day or even go farther say it was the worst day of his life.
I didn’t see Billy Joe much after that for he started hanging out with some guys that were into body building.
As far as I know he never got another dog.