ONE BAD ASS DOG
Somebody tried to steal my motorcycle. They tried to pop the ignition and unlock the bike, start it up, or maybe haul it away on a truck. The bike is brand new and now an insurance adjuster has to come out, estimate the damage, and then I'll take it down to Razees to get it repaired.
According to one of the police officers who responded to my call, an attempt to steal another motorcycle had been made the day before from the same garage where my bike was parked. They thieves may have tried to take the bikes at the same time, since both ignition locks had been tampered with. The officer also told me someone had lifted the tires and rims off a car in the parking lot.
I filed a report but the chances that the perps will be caught are nil. What pisses me off is I have to pay another deductible because I smacked up my car two weeks ago on a cement pillar in the same garage.
The last time someone tried to rip me off was when I lived in Florida. My wife received a call at her brokerage office in the middle of the afternoon from the Fort Lauderdale P.D. saying that the alarm company had called to report an attempted house break at our home. They wanted her to meet them there so they could enter the house and look around. Nothing had been stolen. The would-be thief, however, had been taken by ambulance to a nearby emergency room to be treated for some very serious injuries.
The house had a small walled in garden in the front. The thief climbed the wall, smashed the glass on the french doors, and reached in to unlock the handle.
That's when all hell broke loose.
My vet called my dog, Mr. Kool, the most bad assed Akita he'd ever known. Kool was home, chilling on the living room floor, when he heard the sound of breaking glass. Without a bark, without a warning, he tore down the hall, into the bedroom, went airborne across a king sized bed, and grabbed onto the bare forearm sticking through the broken window. He sank his teeth into flesh and bone and nearly ripped the would-be burglars hand off at the wrist. The guy managed to pull his ruined arm free, jump back over the wall, and run down the sidewalk. All the cops had to do was follow the thick trail of blood until they spotted him down by the river, screaming in pain. They called for an ambulance and read the guy his rights. Back at the house, Mr. Kool was on his hind legs, standing up against the inside of the front door, trying to tear it apart. The police waited until my wife got there to put Kool into the back yard. Kool watched as the police entered the house. He never took his eyes off them. He lay down on the pool deck and stared at them. One of the officers just stood there shaking his head.
"That's a hell of a dog you got there lady", he said.
"You don't know the half of it", she replied.
Too bad Mr. Kool wasn't around when whomever it was tried to steal my motorcycle. They wouldn't have gotten far and they would have lost a lot of blood. Ask my vet or anyone who ever knew him.
Mr. Kool was one bad ass dog.