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Friday, January 24, 2014


courtesy Photobucket
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.

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