This is vaguely on topic.
Last week, whilst in the pub, one of the regulars was talking about a dog which had been shot and dumped just ouside the village next to a road. Initially, being a bit drunk, a feeling of rage washed over me, imagining some unfeeling bastard blowing an unwanted pet away, but the whole story was somewhat different.

The dog was an Akita, and belonged to some "incomers". Sorry to sound like a bumpkin, I know exactly fuck all about farming despite living in the country for 30 years, but I know enough not to leave your Japanese Akita running around in a field of sheep. This village has doubled in size in the last 15 years, and as a result a lot of townies have moved here, looking for cheap houses. Apparently, the farmer had called the police but they never showed up..... having lost over £1000 of sheep already to the dog, he had no choice. The owners of the dog were, typically, unwilling to accept responsibility, but whatever happened, the dog has been dumped by someone in some bushes and long grass next to a road used by a lot of walkers round here, and apparently, it's guts were all over the place.

I have been here long enough to know this was something I did not want to see, but I had forgotten about it a few days later when my mate asked me to go for a walk. We were approaching the area where the dog was supposed to be when I remembered, but my mate was already in a blood lust frenzy and was determined to see this gory sight. Soon enough, he shouted "There it is!" I never looked. He walked away saying "Oh, that's horrible. I just got a glimpse of it! That's scarred me for life! I'll never forget that, even though it was just a glimpse."

It's around here that I should describe my mate. He's one of those people who says the things he thinks other people want to hear. A bit of a weirdo he is, a stalkery, obsessive type of fellow. I have many tales about him but none have fitted any qotw yet. Anyway. He spent the following day telling everyone how horrific it was and that it had "scarred" him.

That day, I told my other mate about this, and he took me out in the car to where the dog was. I pointed to where it lay but refused to go stare at a family pet that had been killed, so he ran off and glared over the fence for a bit, then returned, laughing.

My mate has been "scarred for life" by an old wooden television set and some red curtains. The dog's corpse had been taken away two days earlier. We haven't told him yet..... he doesn't take ridicule well, which only makes it better.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 16:11, Reply)