Pet Poisoners, a postscript

In my post yesterday, The Pet Poisoner Next Door, I mentioned that I’d been driven to write about this because I see (thanks to Google Alerts) a story about someone’s pet being poisoned virtually every day.

I meant that literally. So here is the one that appeared just 24 later. It begins:

WHITESBORO, N.J. — Goo Boo, a two-year-old pit bull, died Jan. 9 after being poisoned. According to his owner, Duane Pitt, Goo Boo didn’t stand a chance.

“They put him to sleep today. They said there was nothing else they could do for him,” Pitt told the Herald.

Goo Boo, along with another dog, Cain, a mixed breed, had been fed drug-laced sausage tossed onto Pitt’s property.

I can’t tell you how sorry I was to see it.

The story overflowed with grief and bewilderment: They’re lovable dogs, the owner said of his dogs.  I don’t teach them to be mean. …My son loved that dog (Goo Boo). My son would hang on that dog’s back.

There’s an old saying about poison,  attributed to the 17th century British dramatist, John Fletcher. He called it poison, the coward’s weapon. It strikes me as remarkably apt in this case, doesn’t it you? Sneaking over to a neighbor’s yard and feeding a lethal treat to a friendly animal, a trusting one?

I can’t tell you much I wish this would just damn stop.

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