Freddogg Off The Chain

Dreg Dogs of Delmarva is a photojournalism fantasy of mine. Now that I’m down home digital and mobile wireless laptop guy my fantasy has come closer to a reality while all my other fantasies slip further away from the fantasy phylum into the tripping old guy category.
There may also be a section for common cats and another for trashy white people who keep rodents as pets, like ferrets, hamsters, gerbils and guinea pigs. I even had a student with a pet pig who slept in her bed but was later killed when he was run over by a speeding chicken truck. I consoled the crying and distraught 15 year old."I'm sorry Anna, was he hogging the road?" I thought,"you ain't funny mother fucker" was a justifiable response.

And let’s not forget bandanna dogs and miniatures and teacups and hybrids like Labradoodles and Puggles. And the fucking rescue dog zealots who will kill you if you look cross eyed at their stupid assed gray hounds. Will somebody give me a break here? Can I get a witness?

Back around 1980 I used to drive the back road to Milton every morning to teach a seventh grade multiple repeaters Geography class. Some of my students actually had driver’s licenses and nicer cars as I drove a 1970 three door Suburban and at times the back door just flung open then shut again.

Everyday I passed these two shacks and with abandoned cars in front and trash and garbage all over the lawn and as near as I can tell people lived there. One cold morning I glanced to my right and there was this Biggy Smalls Lab/Rotty drug dealer dog standing in the doorway like “this is my house” while two humans were out front sleeping inside a car up on three blocks with no back window—and you could make it up but I didn’t. I wanted that picture for my book. I mean no disrespect it’s just an aspect of the culture we live in. Some people are just freaking nasty and I have no trouble accepting that.

That spring two senior girls and students of mine were passing the same yard when they noticed a family jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise moon walking and electric sliding backwards through the maze of trash. They turned around after a series of “oh my gods” to discover a yard cat’s greasy head stuck inside the bottle with the cat still on the other end. They could have been eaten alive by Cujo the Crack Dog who must have been “luded out” that afternoon. One quickly snagged the cat while the other “held the mayo” and they drove off to the state police barracks for advice with their consent.

The irony of a jar headed desk sergeant didn’t escape them and when he offered to break the jar with the butt end of his loaded gun they gave him the require burst of “oh my god’s and I don’t think so’s' and went off to the Vet's office.

The vet mainlined a tranquilizing relaxant into the cat’s vein as the cool cat meowed ”That’s what I’m talking about” and then he used baby oil and Vaseline—too much because the girls didn’t like the way he was looking at them—then popped the cat’s head free.

Hellman’s became a house cat, who lived a long and kitchen counter productive life.

Later that Spring another student of mine was coming out of Rehoboth late at night when some drunks threw a German Shepard puppy out the back window into her windshield. She pulled over, tended to the injured dog, called a few Vets all of whom said, “Call state farm” before unplugging their phones. This girl sat in a dangerous place for 90 minutes until friends came to pick her up and the dog which she kept.

So I’m off to take photos of biters and barkers and dog house roof-roofers. And then I will profile the owners and hope I don’t get mauled or shot.

Peace Freddogg