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I was eleven when I met the county dog catcher. We had just moved to Ohio from Illinois and he was our neighbor. He had a truck paid for by the county and a rifle in his rifle rack, a double dog box in the back along with the rest of the tools of the trade; a pair of leather gauntlets to protect the hands and the face, a long metal pole to collar an animal at a safe distance or pull a reluctant one from under a house. A couple of cans of dog food to lure a canine to the catch. Chains and leads and collars and a few leg hold, steel traps.

I agreed to ride along and help the old guy at once when offered. I felt this could be a learning experience and the pay wasn't bad for a kid only 11 years old.

It was hot that summer. Blistering hot when you woke up and it just got hotter all day. We had to feed the animals in the pound first every day because at the time he was working alone and dogs and cats can drink a lot of water when it's hot.

We left the driveway, me eying the rifle and him talking about the dogs. Cats too, but we both loved dogs so that was the main topic of conversation. The pound at the time was at the small, local airport. After a bit we arrived at a patch of woods and drove into a driveway, pulled back in the woods a bit and killed the truck.

"Here we are." Where were we? I thought we were going to the dog pound. No buildings in site except the airport ones, but they were three football fields away. The only thing close was a rectangular box made of wood and elevated off the ground. The catcher was walking toward it and following, I saw finally that it was two rows of boxs with a small hole cut thru a wooden door behind which was the dog or dogs he had assembled in his sweeps.

A tin roof and four wooden walls held the animals. It was in the upper nineties and hot as blue blazes. Even at this early morning hour the heat as we opened the doors one after another to feed the poor ceatures was like an oven. The animals barely moved for the most part. The puppies moved when we opened the doors to their cages, but for the most part even these raucous youngsters were subdued.

Some boxes had a bit of straw or hay for bedding but all had the slats on the bottom spread so the excrement could just drop to the ground. The smell was overpowering as we walked from one door to another, dispensing the water and food that was waiting in steel drums to be doled out.

There was a lot of barking and howling now. The slosh of water being given to one would send the others in a frenzy. Some would drink and then kick it over in their box. That meant that they had to wait till we came back. It was sometimes a long wait.

It was hot........

We finished finally. I continued to poor extra water to the really thirsty ones who had drank a lot, hoping they would have enough to last them in the hot box. I knew it wouldn't be but an eleven year old can only do what he can. I didn't know how they had come to be here in the heat and filth of the boxes, the puppies and kittens and dogs and cats. Some were well groomed and others looked like they had been thru hell. Some were bandaged from fights with other dogs. The boxes sometimes held six or eight dogs. Fights broke out. The little dogs were the ones who suffered. The puppies and their mothers were kept away from the meaner dogs, and sometimes there would be two litters in the same box. It is a surprise to see twelve happy faces looking back.

We had two mean ones locked up. Dogs can go crazy just like us. I don't mean rabies, I mean just stark raving loony. The really mean ones will wait until you stick your arm in to get the food and water bowls and try to rip a piece of your skin loose for your trouble. We use an old limb to drag the bowls to the door, then quickly drag them out while the dog was being held at the end of a steel pole with a cable around his neck.

Twenty boxes in all with ninety-six dogs and assorted cats thrown in to keep it exciting.

The catcher and I got back in the truck and we left for our first stop.....

__________________
Though my soul may set in darkness,
It will rise in perfect light.
I have loved the stars too fondly,
To be fearful of the night." Sarah Williams

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