Wednesday, July 7, 2010
How long would it take for your dog to start gnawing off your decomposing limbs should you die in a car with your best K9 friend locked in with you? And would the amount of abuse you may or may not have forced your dog to endure alter the answer to that question? Apparently, the answer is less than 4 days, if the dog is owned by a complete asshole with no compassion for any life, let alone animal and was certainly abusive to his K9’s. This of course, is according to partially eaten remains of my father’s ex business partner, found last night in his vehicle. He had some sort of attack brought on by diabetes four days prior.
I have about as much compassion for him as he did his wife when she was given 6 months to live, and he decided then to divorce her. She’s still alive today. But then… she moved out of the house my mother fell ill and pretty much died in… Her health started to improve.
I hate that house. And though many believe it’s the supernatural that has created it’s history of insanity and bizarre illnesses, I simply believe it’s mould or bacteria from years of abuse, compiled with the combination of it being alternated from farm-type living space for poultry to a human’s home. Perhaps the dead rats mummified in the walls have something to do with it? But I digress…
John’s dead. I couldn’t care less that he no longer breathes. And I don’t believe in such bullshit as not speaking ill of the dead – sometimes, there really is nothing good you can say about a person. And why should I say nothing at all? I’m deeply disturbed by his death, the circumstances of it more than anything. And it has effected my entire day.
The man never offered condolences after my mother’s death, though he knew her, ate with her, and even laughed with her for years. My strongest memory of him was him chastising my brother for spilling a drink at dinner (as if my mother and father were not there), and then him spilling his own drink immediately after. I don’t recall a single good quality about him, and know he costs my father hundred’s of thousands of dollars if not millions due to his incompetence. He was a complete asshole to anyone and any thing – even bragged about killing his own dog, a Bull Mastiff, with a sledgehammer. The irony that another dog eat his remains is so very, VERY upsetting. It’s a bold show of true Karma. And a great reminder that it will kick you in the ass… Or in this case, consume your rotting corpse.
I wonder if he knew he was a horrible a person? Am I? Do you know if you are? And how long do you figure you would have to be dead before your most *loyal* friend started ripping chunks of flesh off your body to quench his thirst, or satiate his hunger?
I have about as much compassion for him as he did his wife when she was given 6 months to live, and he decided then to divorce her. She’s still alive today. But then… she moved out of the house my mother fell ill and pretty much died in… Her health started to improve.
I hate that house. And though many believe it’s the supernatural that has created it’s history of insanity and bizarre illnesses, I simply believe it’s mould or bacteria from years of abuse, compiled with the combination of it being alternated from farm-type living space for poultry to a human’s home. Perhaps the dead rats mummified in the walls have something to do with it? But I digress…
John’s dead. I couldn’t care less that he no longer breathes. And I don’t believe in such bullshit as not speaking ill of the dead – sometimes, there really is nothing good you can say about a person. And why should I say nothing at all? I’m deeply disturbed by his death, the circumstances of it more than anything. And it has effected my entire day.
The man never offered condolences after my mother’s death, though he knew her, ate with her, and even laughed with her for years. My strongest memory of him was him chastising my brother for spilling a drink at dinner (as if my mother and father were not there), and then him spilling his own drink immediately after. I don’t recall a single good quality about him, and know he costs my father hundred’s of thousands of dollars if not millions due to his incompetence. He was a complete asshole to anyone and any thing – even bragged about killing his own dog, a Bull Mastiff, with a sledgehammer. The irony that another dog eat his remains is so very, VERY upsetting. It’s a bold show of true Karma. And a great reminder that it will kick you in the ass… Or in this case, consume your rotting corpse.
I wonder if he knew he was a horrible a person? Am I? Do you know if you are? And how long do you figure you would have to be dead before your most *loyal* friend started ripping chunks of flesh off your body to quench his thirst, or satiate his hunger?
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Day to day,
death,
depressing,
disgust,
experience,
lessons
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This is my personal weblog. The thoughts and opinions represented here are mine and mine alone. They do not reflect those of my employers, associates or peers.
I am forever changing and always staying this same; a true living contradiction and as such, my thoughts and opinions change frequently. I may or may not still hold the same opinions noted in out-of-date posts.
By reading my blog, you agree to accept these realities as absolute truth.
I am forever changing and always staying this same; a true living contradiction and as such, my thoughts and opinions change frequently. I may or may not still hold the same opinions noted in out-of-date posts.
By reading my blog, you agree to accept these realities as absolute truth.
Me
- Tainted Female
- No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
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