Hondo

 A long time ago, we visited the story about our old farm cat who possessed nine lives.  One day he was found dead on the side of the road then he appeared mysteriously alive and well as we buried the corpse of his identical twin.  It is a long story. I may revise it and publish it here.

Some folks have wondered what I mean by black dog resurrected. It's not some secret devil worshipper sick pagan idolatry, not by any means nor is it about my old blog.  I'm talking about the dog I lost after we grew up together for several years.  The remarkable part of the story isn't that I lost him as how he was lost. 

 His name was Jack, and he was a pure-bred black Labrador with papers and everything.  He was the cutest little guy when I brought him home.  He would run and play; it was obvious he was happy as he ran around the house. We started calling him Hondo because of the John Wayne movie of the same name. I loved that picture, Hondo walked through the desert with a dog.  He was the best, I got him around Christmas one year.  

I was a young man on my own since 18 years old in and out of various scraps and scuffles without abandoning the thought of finding a place where me and "Hondo" could live. He was my dog and all I ever heard when I called home was how I needed to get him out of there.  

My mother had married a bitter drunk after my father died, worse than Dwight from This Boys Life. He came in and took over pretending he was some sort of combat vet to conceal the fact he was a degenerate asshole who sat around drinking beer and watching porno movies all day long. 

He had my mother working her ass off to pay his child support.  

It was ridiculous but it was none of my business so I did my own thing, and forget about it.  

Finally, me and my best friend who was living in the mountains, dying from cancer, driving himself to the hospital for chemo and radiation agreed with me to rent a house in town to be close to the hospital. The house had a huge yard and was gonna be perfect for my dog.  I phoned home and told them I'd be coming on my day off to pick up the dog who was by now 11 years old, but otherwise fit as a fiddle.    

There were some minor repairs needed to the fence and early the next morning before they were finished my mother called and said, "I have some really bad news."      

Okay?

"You don't need to come for the dog, he died last night," she said. 

I asked how he died and she replied, old age.

Of course, anyone with two brain cells knows that story is a complete fabrication so I did what any sensible person would do.  

It began with a bottle of cold duck and ended passed out on the porch in a pool of my own vomit.  The next day, I missed work and sat home all day crying because I knew it was a lie and there was nothing anybody could do about it.  

The bad memory was placed on a shelf and my life went On.

I learned to live with all their lies about everything and kept my distance as my wife and I got married then began raising our own family.  We had two little children who were so precious to us, but these people could care less, it was brutal.  

The lies and even some of the truth, my mother told our children outside of our presence was deplorable and destructive.  Some way we soldiered forward without their love and support, my eternal refrain was, "FUCK 'EM!"

Nothing they say is worth a pound of sand.  

One day the phone rang with surprising news from dear old mummy that she was getting a divorce from the Dwight guy.  By then I was so beyond this man all I felt was pity for him actually thinking he got over on me about the dog.  My good sense was the only reason he wasn't a permanent shopping cart by then.  Now this dishonest old freak calls up and wants me to come to her defence like Stormin Norman?

Whatever.     

That ship had sailed, but my mother had taken on the responsibility of caring for my grandmother, which provided the one and only reason to change my position.  I would do anything for my grandmother to this day and reversed course coming full steam to their aid, but learned pretty fast because of my mom they were completely full of shit.  

She had a lot of help already, so we stood back. I knew why she wanted us there but never said an offensive word or made a threat.  

That old motherfucker shat himself as we intended. 

It was just a minor display.  With his message delivered, he turned tail after years of allegedly abusing this woman, killing my dog, and god knows what else.  And take that Vietnam Vet hat off, you coward who never fired a single shot in anger.  Fucking crybaby, you have PTSD from being a drunk cook on a  coast guard frigate?   He acts like he was Rambo. 

Please allow me to provide you with some real traumatic memories if you ever raise a hand to my family again.  I've got all the violence you need because I've experienced all the violence out of you I care to endure.  

You place those bad memories on a shelf and move forward.  

I was always neutral after the dog incident, they were equally bad, in my opinion. And before long, my mother and sister would prove it again.

They always underestimated me and assumed my life of perpetual child abuse from 0-17 had made me somehow inferior and incapable of exceeding them in the ability to process information about abuse and emotional trauma.  They wanted to apply all kinds of labels to me to conceal our family's ugly secret.  They used those labels for so long and so often that they began to believe them until they had no idea who I was.

  The child abuse caused me to become an emotionally intelligent, logical person who was more immune to their psychological mind games and torture.  My Hanoi Hilton had been my bedroom as a child and once I was out of there no one could hurt me unless I allow it.  

It doesn't matter now because you learn to move past the pain and put the bad memories on a shelf.  I learned that in spite of them, not because of them.

So here I am, 30-something years old, married with a wife and two kids, when my mother and sister convince me to travel with them to Alabama, of all places in the world.  

I wanted to see some relatives, they offered to pay for everything and I thought, what the hell, we might be able to mend the fence here.  

Maybe they aren't vile witches after all but don't get excited.    

I was apprehensive as hell about going to Alabama, so my radar was up before we ever left the airport.  My real grandfather was from Alabama and wound up murdered, and chopped up in a Chicago flophouse, enough said.  

Nobody ever had a good word to say about the man, and all of a sudden, these two people want me to go on a fact-finding mission?  

I'll go as security, but you idiots aren't fooling anybody.  They expected me to trust them or anyone they associate with.  

My wife kissed me as I walked out the door, we had already discussed and both knew they were about to do something messed up.  The numbers didn't lie.  

Even though I wasn't drinking alcohol at the time, my sister insisted I have first one, then another double cocktail at her expense.  It was surprising because her normal attitude and behaviour were usually rotten toward my family.  

It was Somewhere over Texas as the alcohol from the second drink kicked in, and my guard became relaxed the evil psychologist decided to lower her boom. 

She said Mom and I have something we need to tell you.

Okay, go ahead.

Do you remember your dog, Jack?

Yes?

Mom's ex-husband killed him the night before you came to pick him up...

Yes, I knew that. Thanks for confirming what I always knew you are both lifelong liars.

The look of surprise on her face and the confusion on my mother's face confirmed what I already knew.  She asked me, aren't you going to get upset?

Why?  

Should I?  Just the fact I know you lied all this time; bringing it up now is a red flag to me.

At that point, I advised them both about satanic ritual abuse and how they were employing a tactic called soul cracking and they'd never achieve the desired result with this guy.  I told them how I already processed all of the damage inflicted upon me and even though they are patently dishonest people, it was okay.  That is their thing.

Sometimes the abuser kills an animal either in front of the victim or in absentia and then uses the imagery created to manipulate the victim.  Reminding the person of the terrible tragedy, hoping to cause them emotional distress inflict pain and exhibit control.  When people get emotional their judgement is clouded and it is easier to control them.  They had used the dog incident for so long it was water under the bridge at that point. 

Why reveal some disgusting info like that to a drunk man 50,000 feet in the air?  They wanted me to become upset cause a problem and make a scene.  

What my sister did not know is that my father had already used the same tactic on me in 1978 before he got struck down by God and died.  Our first dog had puppies and I can't go into details, it was hideous.  She was never abused by my father or me as she contends to this day.

She offered an abundance of excuses putting on a song and dance about how they thought it was best to finally come clean after denying it for so long.  Who would or could, ever trust either of these people again?  

I knew right then this woman had been in contact with some straight-up evil people in prison.  I asked them both, after all these years would you wait until we got on the aeroplane to deliver some horrible news like that.  Which only makes you look idiotic as it proves what I've been saying you are both total liars for the last 14 years?

It's called a mind game and I think you're both sick.  

She was shocked, and not another word was ever spoken about it. Of course, as a professional liar, denied any knowledge of such a technique as soul cracking, but her actions line up with my understanding of the term.  Later on, when she married an axe murderer who worships the devil, I was able to connect some dots and clear up my confusion.  Of course, he has them all convinced he is Captain Super Christian guy.  

So what, you killed my dog?  Your prison boyfriend probably put you up to it, after she denied having contact with him for decades until unexpectantly marrying him without notice last year.  I never bought the excuse about the ex-husband acting alone in the killing of my dog I always thought my sister had something to do with it.  Her interest in providing details about the incident was frankly, creepy as fuck and caused me to always view her with total suspsicion. 

I'm sorry I didn't freak out like Brian Wilson and get kicked off the plane.  But you and your evil plans were no longer a part of my life, way back then and it was in 2009.   

When they killed Jack it killed the part of me that trusted them and it can never be regained at this point.  They all continue to think I need to beg their forgiveness when they tried to set me up over and over again.  

Like I said, you put bad memories on a shelf and forget them.  The same goes for people, you put the bad ones on a shelf and forget them, but no matter what happens I will never forget about my boy Hondo.  

  

 

   

  

 

  

     

  

 

  

  

     

     

    
I still love you, boy.