A Dogs Justice

A Dogs Justice
By Laura Alton

The world slowly came into focus, white, bright, noisy. Hospital, she was in a hospital.
“She’s awake.” The voice was familiar looking to her left Bonnie caught sight of her mother sitting next to the bed.

“Mom?”
“Yes honey,” her mother reached out and patted her shoulder gently. “You just rest, everything’s going to be alright.”

“Mom.” Bonnie struggled to speak with her dry tongue. “Mom, Koko, Bess.” The memories came flooding back at the same time she registered the physical pain of the attack.

The blond haired man pick up Bess by her neck scruff. Bess screamed, her four small paws waved in the air her small teeth snapped uselessly. The blond man grinned crooked teeth. He shoved the gun into his jeans and pulled a large bowie knife from its sheath hooked to his belt.

After looking up to make sure she was watching he drove the tip of the knife into the belly of the small brown dog he held. Bess four legs waved helplessly, as the knife tore through her belly in a shower of red as intestines and bowls spilled out. Blondie dropped the small twitching body next to the larger dog he had shot earlier. Raising the bloody knife he turned to her.

“Now it’s your turn.” The darker haired man spoke into her ear as his partner reached out with the steel blade and slowly cut off the first button on her blouse.

“Mom, they…” The words stuck in her throat.

“Yes dear I know,” her mother rested a cool hand on her forehead. “Rest and get better now. The police want to talk to you as soon as you feel up to it.” She held out a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of it to Bonnie. She felt the sip of the cool water trickle down her raw throat.

“Now.” Bonnie got the word past her abused vocal cords.
“What darling?”
She licked her lips, took a second sip, and spoke again. “Now mom, I want to talk to them now.”

They had laid her on her sleeping bag right next to the bodies. Next to her new tan and green tent. The one she had just paid a weeks wages for. She had bought the larger tent so it would fit her and two dogs. This trip into the mountains was the tent’s first.

Blondie had shot Koko in the head, when the large shepherd rushed him as he exited his jeep. Little mixed terrier, Bess, lay her intestines spilled out all over the ground. Her little paws occasionally twitched as life left her eyes.

Bonnie retreated into memories of happier times as the two men took turns abusing her body. The day Bess received her first commendation as a therapy dog. When Koko earned his first obedience ribbon. The pain in her body grew as they pushed to get a response from her.

Bess licking a giggling girls face, carefully avoiding the bandaged stumps that use to be arms. Allowing the young patient a moment or two of warmth as she rubbed her face on Bless clean bright fur. It was warm the day Koko won Best-In-Show the trophy so large it wouldn’t fit in the cab of her truck.

The pain inflicted by the two goons fed the deep burning rage that would sustained her for weeks to come. She pretended not to noticed as Blondie finished and dark haired took his place on top of her. Bonnie memorized his face, his hair, the angle of his teeth, which way his crooked nose bent. His right eye brow was pierced.
Dark haired had a long straight nose, bad acne, and tobacco stained teeth, his right ear was pierced in two places.

The police were impressed by her description of the two men. Not only did she remembered physical descriptions, but she remembered their jeeps make, model and license. She had taken a good look at it when they drove uninvited into her camp that afternoon. Camping had always been her escape, a way to unwind and relax. It would be again she vowed to herself.

When they were done with her Blondie had crouched down in her line of sight and pulled out his large gun running his hand up and down it’s barrel.

“The bitch was good.” Commented dark haired as he stood straightening his clothes. Blondie agreed with him then raised his gun and fired. The last thing Bonnie remembered was red-hot pain centered on the side of her head.

“They killed my dogs.” She repeated for the sixth time.

“Yes ma’am, I promised you when we find them we will charge them with animal cruelty.” The polite policewoman said as she sat next to her bed.
“After we charge them with rape and attempted murder.” Added her male partner standing next to the door. “They will be locked up for a good long time.” Locked up wasn’t good enough, thought Bonnie, a plan starting to take shape in her mind.
“I won’t let them forget your dog.” Repeated the kind officer.

Bonnie wouldn’t let anyone forget about her pets. Bess had been a therapy dog visiting several hospital’s a week. Koko an obedience Champion, and the father of eight guide dogs for the blind. Bonnie released press release, after press release flooding the media with pictures of both her dogs.

“I could someday forgive them what they did to me but I will never forgive what Blondie did to Bess.” She said to anyone who would listen. Soon the whole city knew her story.

Soon the story was picked up and spread across the nation, Bonnie and Bess face stared out of billboards along the highway when a TV show offered a large reward. Bonnie was featured on a national police show and that yield there names. It was only a matter of time the police told her.

Adopting another dog and returning to work was hard. Learning to shoot a gun was easy. Money and letters of support poured into the Humane Society in her name. Daily, phone calls were made to the police commission by various political leaders pressuring for a arrest. A second feature on the police show narrowed the search. Bonnie knew she was the only witness and sooner or later they would be forced to confront her. She refused police protection choosing to implement her own security measures.

It was just after two in the morning. Bonnie was sleeping soundly when they broke in. Not being the subtle sort they used a baseball bat and broke out the window in her bedroom. Ronnie, her new Belgian Malinois, went from a full sleep to defense mode in 30 seconds. He barely got out a bark before he was biting at the leg climbing in the window. Ronnie then followed the bleeding leg out the window and down the driveway.

The dark haired man didn’t make it into the room. A Glock 17 was in his face and her voice was commanding him to raise his hands. Bonnie climbed out of her house without taking her gun off of him. His hands were in the air as he watched Blondie attempt to flee toward the road. The running man was swallowed up in darkness just as the large dog reached him.

Barking and screaming came from the street as Ronnie dealt with his prey proceeding just as he had been trained. First, he downed his quarry, then attacked the body part he had been taught to target, the lower torso. He tore at it, ripping it, obliterating it. Blondie’s screams were music to Bonnie’s ears and she didn’t bother to hide the grin as she steadied her gun with one hand and reached for her phone with the other. Punching in 911 she reported the break in.

“I knew you would come, if I created enough heat you wouldn’t have any choice.” Her Glock was steady, the hours practicing at the gun range paying off.

“Call off the dog man.” Dark haired pleaded.

“I don’t think so, you didn’t hurt my babies, so you get to live.” She said as the screaming from the driveway abruptly stopped. “Never screw with a dog trainer’s pets.”