Velociworld

COOPER

I hesitated for a few days to write this eulogy, because I'm always aware of the potential for flippancy, or at least lack of gravitas, when I broach sensitive subjects on this site. It is, after all, a catch-basin for my emotions, and the output runs the range from manic to depressive, from sacred to profane. But I reckon it will be taken in the emotion it was intended.

Cooper, Jack and Michelle's dog, died last week, mauled by a pit bull. Attacked while spending a day of intended play at the doggie day care. Some screwhead put the pit bull in his pen by mistake, and cruelly incompetent veterinarian care compounded the tragedy. A bitter loss for those of us who loved the boy.

I've known sweet pets in my life, and owned some of the best, but Coop was beyond the pale. The kindest, gentlest fellow you'd ever meet. Never a mean bone in his body.

Cooper reached his zenith, I believe, when he caught a burglar one night. Even his mellow demeanor could sniff out evil, and do his great part in apprehending the malfeasor.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Pit bulls, and their mutant ilk, must be outlawed. Not exterminated, although this particular brute is wheat for the animal control thresher, but allowed to die out as the bastard genetic freaks they are. They aren't a naturally occurring breed (no breed is), however they were genetically twisted to fuel the sadistic appetites of those who would fight dogs against each other for bloodsport.

States should pass laws making the breeding of killer dogs a felony, and after three years any of the Frankenhounds determined to be over that age should be shot.

Don't e-mail me about how sweet your pit bull is. I don't give a damn. He just hasn't had the urge to kill yet. But he is genetically-encoded to do it, so remember that when you let your little daughter roam the backyard with him.

This wasn't meant to be a rant, but a eulogy. The preacher went astray.

So here's to Cooper, a wonderful companion, a missed spirit.