So feel free to criticize it to death, lol. The more feedback the better.
The Golden Years
In the great state of Vermont where I was born and raised to respect life, I was taught every living creature had a purpose. Every animal served a special service to mankind and to nature itself.
Being a native and living in Vermont for nearly thirteen years, our society is kind, outspoken and welcoming to folks that respect our land. Walking down the paved streets as a stranger, a Vermonter will greet you with a smile and will usually say, "Hello" or "Good day", regardless of race, nationality or sexual preference. We treasure the green mountains, the clear sparkling streams and rivers, and the inhabitants that thrive in our emerald forests. I can assure the outsiders, our state may be anal when it comes to the environment, but at least I am proud to say as a natural born citizen, there is no purer place to live from the filth and pollution from the other dominate and more mechanically powered states.
The Green Mountain State is renowned for its laws of preservation of its wildlife and its strict demeanor on its bylaws of native specimens in the protection to preserve endangered or threatened animals.
Looking up to an orange-lit sky and noticing the light from the blazing sun slowly shrinking behind the clouds, it would soon be time to pack up my fishing gear on the Dog River and travel home in the station wagon. I felt a swift breeze shoot up inside my faded black shorts and it dismissed itself through my arm sleeves. While I was still standing in the middle of The Dog, letting the ice cold water continue to circulate inside my torn sneakers, I remember my toes started to feel that tingle. The tingle you feel before a limb begins to get numb.
After a few more minutes of desperately trying to absorb as much physical pain as possible, since by now my ankles were beginning to feel numb, I was bound and determined to hook another trout. My legs were shaking and wobbling from the ice cold water since the sun had long left the sky. A couple more minutes passed and with no further luck, I struggled to move through the swift current. By now, I was lucky to wiggle my toes, much less able to functionally stand without falling on my ass in the water since I felt like I was paralyzed from the knees down to every toe on my feet.
I did accomplish getting onto the bank safely and out of the river where it was sandy. I collected my gear which consisted of a fishing pole with reel and knife. I also collected my garbage, like empty worm containers, empty soda bottles, Doritos bags and shoved everything into a backpack. This included the sopping wet sneakers to, which left me barefoot upon the damp sand. Hauling the pack onto my back and sliding my arms through the loops, I started for the car. Unfortunately though, my body was at the bottom of a fairly steep but grassy hill and the silhouette of the station wagon , was casting an unnatural shadow over the valley, through the moon lit and auburn sky.
Digging my feet into the soft earth, I etched my toes and heels into the ground and headed up the hill. When I arrived onto the dirt road and before laying my gear into the car I remembered some rope dangling from a dead and decaying tree. It was short, maybe five feet tall and had no leaves and very few branches. Being the curious person I am I walked over to the tree and had my left hand gripped onto my dagger, which was hooked to a leather belt. I wasn't sure what to expect, so I made sure I had a firm grip on the dagger, which was still tucked safely into its holder.
I raced back to the station wagon and reached into my pack and pulled out my sopping sneakers and quickly put them on and started for the decaying tree. I peered over the hill and gazed yonder to the yellow twine hanging off a thick and bald branch. The bark must have rotted away with time because the branch was bald. There was still enough light left in the open sky from the burgundy sunset to witness a clear shot of one of the vilest images possible. Following the shredded rope up high of the bald branch with my eyes, did my vision shot immediately directly down to the ground. It took me a few minutes to fully grasp the situation and steady my body. I remember feeling a slight haze and a crack running through the inside of my head.
We all as humans have watched the News and have read articles in the newspaper about molestation, assault, rape, and murder towards people. But in this day and age, you do not see on the front page in bold letters, "Cat was Neglected and Starved", or "Golden Retriever Found Dead in Forest", of the local newspaper. At least not often enough. Animals are in the same situation as humans. They are trying to co-exist and survive, just as people are try to survive and co-exist with each other. So, in retro respect, shouldn't animals have the same rights and privileges as we do?
My stomach twisted and I still felt a bit dizzy. What I witnessed that day was the cruelest form of murder. The type of murder when a person traps the "prey" and leaves it trapped, with no hope of escape.
I saw two golden retrievers lying on the damp earth, both necks twisted and contorted at an angle that the spine was not intended to be bent. There pink tongues were slightly hanging out of their mouth, while the jaws were pressed tightly on top of them. One was a male, the other was a female. The bodies were fresh, as I noticed that the skeletal system hadn't begun to present itself through the fur. The smell was atrocious, coming from the dog's bodies. Think of it this way. Ever leave earthworms in the sun for hours and then opening the lid to check on them, and that rotting stench swiftly running up inside your nostrils? The intense odor from the retrievers' was significantly more potent. I remember that their fur was a brilliant gold color and the female had a white patch of fur just above the left eye.
I remembered after staring at their fur, I quickly started scanning the area, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the slaughter. How did these dogs meet their demise? How did they die? The questions kept circulating through my mind. I glanced back up at the branch that still carried the shredded rope, the material that drew me to these dogs. I gulped and crawled down near the dog's bodies. Chocking back the horrendous scent coming from them, I gently crept slowly over towards the male dog's carcass. Since I had a closer look and a more visual opportunity to examine the bodies, I tried to look for clues as to what led to their death. When I examined the male dog, he had black knats and ants crawling around his open and distant eyes. I however did notice one artifact that I could not see standing over the edge of the hill. The artifact was hidden in the male dog's thick and golden fur. I recognized immediately what was tied around his neck. It was the exact same rope that I first noticed shredded hanging from the branch, which is where the bodies of the dogs were. The bodies were directly below that same tree where the rope was.
My body tensed a bit and I slowly backed away and crept slowly over to the female and hovered over her body for a few minutes. I didn't kneel to examine her body right away. A pit in my stomach reminded me that it was possible I could witness the same scenario as the male dog. A rope tied tightly around the neck. After some minutes passing, I sucked up my nerve and walked steadily over to her broken body. I knelt quietly to the ground and, with my knife, shifted and combed her fur, looking if indeed she had a rope around her neck also. Indeed, she did have a rope tied tightly around her neck. Thankfully the female dog didn't have any insects or worms nesting on her. I slid the knife back into place on my leather belt.
I stood up off the ground and tried to access the situation, which actually didn't take a lifetime to figure out. My theory was that the dogs were hung to death. As to whether the weight of the dogs caused the rope to snap, and left to their unfortunate death or the monsters managed to hang one dog and the sheer weight of the last dog caused the rope to snap from the barren branch of the ancient tree, I will never know. However, feeling the rage starting to seep into my blood and feeling my cheeks become warm, I fiercely unsnapped my dagger from its holster and grinded the rope against the blade around the female's neck first. The rope gave away easy and I tossed it to the ground. I darted over to the male's body and repeated the same action. I etched the rope against the blade of the knife, it gave away also and I again tossed the rope to the ground. I wanted to cut the remaining piece of rope from the tree but I had no means of climbing towards it. I decided to leave the rope tied to the branch to serve as a reminder to myself. I indeed sliced the ropes off their necks. And as superficial as it may seem to some people, by removing it from the necks, I like to visualize that the dog's souls were free and could leave Earth in peace.
Before leaving the scene, I gathered the ropes off the ground, slung my knife into its holster. Since I didn't have a shovel with me to bury the bodies, I left two large stones in front of the heads. The gray stones were propped up in the air so they were vertical. They served as headstones.
The Green Mountain State is renowned for its laws of preservation of its wildlife. But the state I love is now known for animal abuse.
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