Lady & Boyo


I don't kill dogs.

I know you don't kill dogs.

So stop asking me how many dogs I killed today, I don't kill dogs, or cats, or anything, okay?

But, then . . . so what do you do?

I hold them down while Donna gives them the injection.

Uh-huh?  So actually . . .

We don't kill them, we send them to sleep.  And I'm not allowed to give injections.  I won't learn how till next year.

They put up a fight but, don't they, at least?

Oh yeah, reminds me, I still need to get that tetanus.

So how many, how often, because they're sick, right?

Yeah, mostly because they're sick.

Mostly?

Well, this morning we put down 2 greyhounds.  He just came in, redneck bogger.

How old?

The bogger?

The dogs.

5, 7 max.

That's not old.

Lady and Boyo.

Huh?

Their names, what he called them.

They sound like a couple.

Brother and sister, well, half-siblings, same father.

They were sick?

No, he'd won his last race, Boyo.

Sorry?

His last race, that's what the bogger said — Boyo hadn't won a race for 2 years.  Over the hill.

What a bastard.  And lady?

"I've got the last litter out of her."

He said that?

Yeah.

When?

3 weeks ago.

You're winding me up, right?

Wrong.

This can't be legal.

It's the way it is.

But, but you could refuse.

They'd only take them somewhere else, or do it themselves with a blunt knife or I don't know what the fuck.

Do you have an incinerator?

Yeah, but he wanted to take them with him.

He did?

Said he wanted to give them a good burial.

So he . . .

I bagged them and he took off.

You bagged them?

In plastic bags, blue ones.  They looked so beautiful.

And then?

That was it, he threw them in the back of his car, an old Ford.

He did what?

No, I'm exaggerating, he, . . . kind of dropped them, I suppose.

You're sure you want to be in this line of work?

I'll get used to it, it's early days.  
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