Dedicated to Turk: My very first best friend
This is the story of why I deplore animal cruelty and my introduction to it. It’s a wee bit of background for my readers to understand why I cry when I see animal abuse, why I get so angry when it goes unsolved or unpunished, and why I write letters, nag at my friends to get involved and why I publish this blog.
My mom always had animals around her and one year when my father’s birthday arrived, Mom bought Dad a beautiful purebred boxer puppy. His name was Turk. Oh he was gorgeous and so funny! He may have been bought for Dad, he may have been Mom’s big baby, but he was MY dog. Him and I were inseparable from day one.
I had this habit of escaping the house whenever I could. I was only 4 or 5 at the time but I would just wander off looking for adventure wherever my little feet would take me. You would think my mother would be frantic with worry but if she couldn’t find Turk either, she didn’t bother to worry. We were together. She used to love to tell the stories about getting phone calls from people on the other side of town reporting that they had sighted us and what direction we were heading. I always just held onto his choke collar and Turk always brought me back home. Me and Turk, Turk and me. 
This picture is of Mom and me watching TV on a Friday night (Friday was always homemade french fries night and my mom made absolutely the best french fries in the world!). Obviously Turk thought so too because as you can see he’s not quite as devoted to me at this particular time. And the TV must have been immensely interesting because it’s not often I’ll disregard a dog in the room to watch TV.
Not too long after this my mom left us. Dad was a bully and a control freak and Mom was a free spirit who liked to go out, have fun, party and be with her friends. It was a marriage meant to be only to have me. But that’s another story.
This is a picture of our house in Ingersoll and a pretty good shot of what my poor mother had to endure. One day she left for work and had a backroom for her laundry facilities. When she came home, this is what she found. No discussion, no plan, just spur of the moment decision to renovate. See Turk under the window? He knows what Mom’s thinking. You can’t see it very well but his ears are down and his eyes are wide. Sensing the hostile energy?
Once Mom left, Dad no longer had her to thump around to vent his frustrations and so the kids and the dog got the worst of it. Dad would kick, cuff and yell out of nowhere for no other reason then that he was in a bad mood. To this day, I still feel the urge to duck when I think of Dad and for that reason, I haven’t seen him in over 30 years.
I could take the kicks, the swats and the smacks because I was human and could rationalize even at a young age about what was happening. Turk could not. He was a dog and he didn’t understand why he was being kicked, cuffed or smacked. One time Turk got fed up with it and bit down on my dad’s arm. As sad as this whole story is, that day watching my dad in the car on his way to the vet with Turk attached to his right arm while trying to drive still makes me laugh and think “Atta’ boy Turk!” You see, Boxers’ jaws lock when they bite down hard and there’s was no way to detach Turk’s teeth from Dad’s arm without the aid of the vet.
A year or so later Turk got sick. The story was that he contracted hepatitis but today, I wonder if that is really true. Regardless, whatever Turk had was not curable and he was going to die of it. What does my dear father do? Have Turk mercifully euthanized? Not on your life.
Turk sat in the backyard for weeks chained to his dog house dying slowing, inch by agonizing inch. Every day I’d come from home from school and since we were not allowed to use the front door, we had to go around back where Turk was dying. We were not allowed to touch him or talk to him either. Each day was agony for Turk & I both. Finally he managed to die and his suffering ended. My eyes fill with tears to this very day when I remember what my horrible cruel father did to my very first best friend. To this day, I have never forgiven Dad for this despite having forgiven him for a myriad of other things he did to me.
The cruelty never stopped. We had other animals after Turk and each one became the whipping post my father needed in addition to beating on his kids. Witnessing it every day ingrained in me a deep hatred for anyone who would harm an innocent and defenceless animal. And that’s why today I fight to end animal cruelty and make it a felony if convicted.
Only cowards beat up and abuse animals and all animal abusing cowards belong in jail.
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Beautiful story about Turk, you, your life, your mission helping animals…I´m already crying. I feel the same: My best friends, each one have touch my heart.
Thank you for your comments. I’m glad you enjoyed the story.