The post about fear of dogs pushed me into memories about one interesting situation from my childhood.
We lived in the village. I was 9 years old and my brother was 4. We had a Collie breed dog. In my memory episode starts from the moment when the dog ran to my younger brother, jumped the front lamps on his shoulder and knocked him down to the ground.
He jumped to my brother and started to lick his face with all his strength. The dog was
young and eager to play. Brother started to scream. Being tiny he thought that the dog was going to eat him. Dog`s tongue and teeth were close to his face. The huge beast attacks and tramples on him. By the time our parents approached my brother, he could barely breathe from shock and stuttered really bad. It has some time passed when we found out that brother started to stutter terribly. After – there were hospitals, examinations and diagnosis – some kind of nervous disease. Doctors even offered to arrange disability. Illness was passing. However, everyone in my family knew that if brother is nervous or worried, a nervous breakdown starts, stuttering gets worse, he starts to cry and wasn’t able to stop. Boy started suffocating and even turning blue.
Now he is 16 y.o. and stuttering doesn’t bother him anymore. It remains only slightly fuzzy pronunciation and little rush, which will probably, vanish someday.
As soon as dad started reviving youngster, mom took a stick and started to beat the dog with no mercy. I burst into tears asking mom to stop and dad to intervene. She was beating him so hard in the throes of her mother`s love to the offended son, that daddy rushed to her immediately and drag her off the dog. I guess, she damaged his viscera, and maybe even broke some bones, because Tarzan mercilessly scammed. On the same day, my mother kicked the dog out of the house, battering his stomach and spine with a spindle.
We haven’t seen Tarzan for a long time. Some months later he approached our home – skinny, exhausted and worn out, beaten by other dogs. His skin was stuck to the bones, washed out and rubbed. Wounds were probably healed, but dog was still weak and puny.
I came out to the road and called him, but he was afraid to come closer. He remembered mom’s strikes strength. I rushed to him immediately and started begging feverishly to wait. I didn’t want him to escape, at least, for the moment I bring him some bread to eat.
He waved his tail, shyly staring around. Even such a beating couldn’t kill the dog’s loyalty and love to people who were his family. Despite all my persuasion and food that I showed him, tempting to come closer to the yard, the dog didn’t agree. He must be very hungry. Tarzan was eating so delicately and in a hurry that I was afraid that he could die, because he suddenly began to eat after months of hunger.
There have months or even years passed since then and we saw him for several times. I couldn’t even be sure that it was Tarzan for the last time I saw him. The one I saw and was calling to, stopped and looked at our yard. That wasn’t Tarzan I knew – he had gone wild too much.
Mother never forgave him. I know it because I started a conversation for several times and asked whether we can take the dog back home. This story is the brightest and most detailed episode from my childhood that I still keeping in my memory I remember most of the colors, images, emotions.
This interesting post turned out to be an important thing for me. Now I want to talk about it with my brother. For some reason, we have never talked about what have happened. I’m curious now what he thinks and feels about it now. As far as he has grown up and he is already a person who has a conscious, self-constructed, based on the values of attitude to things, events, and facts.
I guess that flashback will definitely put everything in order in my minds. This is like when the bone is broken and it grows in a right position. I’m getting out my past from the darkest sides of my memory lane freeing myself from borders.