Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Pistol-Packing Pest Patrol

Davie, Florida, has certainly seen its share of excitement lately. It was mentioned in the last blog that a cop struck and killed a drunk cyclist over there on the Atlantic side of the state. Now, a second Davie biker has made a bit of news, though for reasons vastly different from the first.

On Thanksgiving morn, an unidentified biker was out trying to lose a little lard before hammin’ down later that day. No problem here, as I see it, but. . . . Enter one “Scooby,” a large, loose canine of the Doberman persuasion. When Scooby spotted a “slow deer” (i.e., a moving bike) there was never a doubt what he would do next.

Okay, now Florida is a “conceal-carry” state. That means a person can tote for protection as long as they have a permit. And since bikers have been not only the victims of armed humanoid attacks, but armed dog attacks, this prudent biker was packing pocket heat. When Scooby gave chase with deadly intent, then lunged, the bikologist did not hesitate; he let Scooby have it.  And so. . . .  Cops came. Cops saw. Cops left. No charge.  No problem.  No Scooby.

According to his distraught owner, Dan Abou, Scooby was a truly marvelous dog, both friend and pet; in fact, the sweet-hearted pooch was in training to be a “therapy dog” (just what kind of “therapy” an animal like that could render one can only guess).

“It’s very alarming that someone would be riding a bike with a gun,” whined Abou.

Ho, Dan! I can go you one better! It’s not only “alarming,” but actually criminal, that some certain someone would allow a large and vicious dog to gallop loose around the hood free as a T-Rex. Had it been a kid, and not an armed adult, the outcome might have had a much more terrible outcome.

The owner also insisted that Scooby would have never harmed anyone, “not in a million years,” said Abou. Well, once again, Dan Abou might know that—check--and Scooby Abou might know that—check--and All God’s Chillun might know that—check--but trust me, when you are hanging out there on the line to dry like a beach towel, a biker has NO way of knowing that an attacking 80-pound dog is really just a big teddy bear rushing to shower him with lots of loving licks. It’s a pretty scary scenario when a large set of snapping jaws, flecked with foam, are running side by side with you and but mere inches from your ankles and legs.

I have been chased a number of times on my bike. Generally, it’s small mutts who do the chasing—weener dogs, terriers, curs. Even if they could catch me, these tiny pests would not know what to do once they caught me. Not so these big ‘uns. Not only can they catch a biker in a short burst, but they act like they would definitely know what to do with one once they caught him. My maxim: Let little yappers yap but shoot dead the big, mean ones.

This marks the second time in a year that someone in Davie has plugged a dog running loose. People in Davie and elsewhere are not gunning down random poms, poodles or pekes; nope, it’s the pit bulls—or in this case, Dobermans—it's these animals who seem to lead a semi-permanent existence running wild in the neighborhood that people are fed up with.


Toys from the Past