Down, boy

Since I just posted the cat story thing...

In the Eighties I was posted to a location in the U.S. Southeast. It, like almost all U.S. Army posts, had housing for married soldiers. 

In said housing was a happy family; mom, dad, kiddos, dog, the usual.

So you know, these little military neighborhoods make “Nextdoor” seem like an idyll of placid indifference. You’re ALWAYS being looked at; by the neighbors, by your chain-of-command, by the post commander’s organization. There's a gajillion eyes on you and your family.

So it was not hard to imagine that at some point someone; a neighbor, a superior, one of the neighborhood busibodies, noticed that one day the kids were playing in the yard with Spot and the next day…

...no Spot.

The authorities were called in, and, you guessed it; Spot was found neatly dressed out in the freezer.

That's how everyone came to find out that post and Army regs, and state law, forbade you from mistreating your dog. Or abandoning your dog. Or otherwise abusing and being mean to your dog.

But nothing in the law said you couldn’t EAT your dog.

I’ll be the dinner parties on that street were a bit subdued after that, though.