It was the policy of the Nigerian police to farm out Rottweiler pups to Ex-pat families to feed up until they were old enough to train. We got "Ben" when I was 9.
We raised him up good, and he was a natural. If you ran off he would chase you, jump on your back and get you in a half Nelson.
Oh the fun me and Ben had.
One day the cops came and took Ben when he was big enough. Sad day but it got worse. About a year later the handler called and asked if we would like to come and see Ben now as he was grown up, trained and a credit to the police force.
We arrived and got shown to his pen.
I ran up to him, "Ben" I called...
And the fucker looked up growling "grrrrrr"
And he went for me.
Broke my heart.
The Cops get Rotts.,
The Chaps get Hyenas.
Bastards...
ReplyDeleteWith a friend to call my own I'll never be alone
And you my friend will see you've got a friend in me
Rotties really, really scare me. You're never s'posed to look them in the eye, right?
ReplyDeleteDon't worry, I won't.
And your tale reminds me of my friend at school whose dad had been head of the police force in Swaziland. He had this big framed photo on the wall of him (white) in full chief cop uniform jumping a motorcycle from a ramp over a row of (black) constables lying on the ground. Kind of summed it all up.