am the killer of all things canine. I kill to free, liberating
owners from their selfish, bourgeois attitudes. The needs of
this earth must prevail over petty pursuits and I shall see that
the earth’s most superior species comes first. My power,
neither blind nor arbitrary, focuses on humanity’s true
needs. All other species shall follow as it was meant to be.
Today commences the campaign to right the wrongs I see so clearly.
The first to be liberated approaches the sights of my rifle,
The Emancipator. The subject, a male in the prime of its life,
a silky shiny coat like a TV commercial, probably fed the best
food on the market. What better exemplifies this campaign than
an obvious case of excessive doting upon an animal. Sorry Fido,
but the buck stops here.
Oh bravo! Perfect shot, in the fore of the rib cage. Thou shalt
not consume any more of humanity’s energy. Ah, the beauty
of a silencer. And the acceptance of the gentle recoil by my
shoulder, one of the many burdens my shoulders must bear. The
victim’s owner looks a tad perplexed. Nothing personal,
sir, merely an act of justice. Please pay attention to the victims
of war in Rwanda, the stifling poverty in Central America. Thank
you for your newfound consideration.
Even with the gloves, the warmth of the barrel can be felt
while dismantling. Into the bag you go, my trusty partner, my
comrade in arms, my lens of refocusing, The Emancipator of constructive
energy. Broken down, we’re ready to travel. Pick up the
spent ammo, don’t want to leave any evidence behind. Out
of the springtime flora and join the masses en route to a joyous
weekend. One last look at the first act in the liberation of
man from dog and vice-versa. The middle-aged gentleman kneeling
over his retriever, unable to imagine the reasoning behind his
dog’s death, but in a position of atonement, the first
step to rejoining the human race. Upon reflection, you will understand
and pledge your allegiance to mankind.
A brisk walk home at an early hour with few people milling
about should make this the perfect opener of the campaign. I’ve
hardly begun yet I feel the purity of emotion in liberating others
from their pettiness. No, it’s not the fecal matter in
public places. And I can tolerate the unsightliness of two dogs
sniffing each other’s posteriors. These things are at one
with Nature. But to see some person coddling a pooch, throwing
a ball or stick around and waiting for Rex to fetch it as if
it’s some miraculous act, or the ultimate inanity of dog
ownership, some master talking to a dog as if it has the least
bit of understanding, these are the mundane profanities I can
no longer bear to witness. The energy wasted in these efforts
when so much needs to be done to better the world exposes the
disease I’m destined to cure. It reminds me of the hypocrisy
of pro-lifers that block abortion clinics but don’t raise
a finger to help the impoverished children of inner cities. So
plain to see, but I must be the one to educate the masses. Ahhh,
home at last.
I’d like to keep a journal to document this endeavor,
but don’t want the authorities to create a background of
megalomania if apprehended. People must share the clarity and
credibility of my vision. Someday, I’ll be able to wax
nostalgic about this campaign and remember how each liberation
affected the public’s perception. As for my message, I
need to deliver it in some form. Society may never realize what
has transpired if dogs begin to get shot without reason. The
people need to know, so I shall spray paint my message across
the city in some highly exposed locations. Waiting to publicize
the cause would be silly.
And what of my message: CANINES BEWARE, HUMANITY WILL RISE!
No, that’s a bit too obscure for most people and reads
like a warning to dogs. The message must be concise. Simplicity
and stupidity, the essential elements of any successful slogan
of the Nineties, be it political or commercial. How about: KILL
YOUR DOG, SAVE HUMANITY! Better yet: FREE YOUR DOG, SAVE HUMANITY!
That has a more humane ring to it, and echoes my feelings. A
message the public can easily comprehend. And so politically
correct. Return the dogs to their wild state. We can bring them
to their continents of origin and free them all, letting pure
Darwinism rule, certainly a more humane approach than destroying
them all.
wo days in a row at the same time at the same park,
I shall have to alter my strategy. Since it’s only the beginning,
my personal security shouldn’t
be endangered. Even the same bush should be fine. Oh, it feels good to be
back to work, fighting the battle of awareness. Scan the field while assembling
The Emancipator. An old lady with a poodle. Nah, we’re shooting for
bigger game and bigger consumers. The big dogs that fuel the dog food industry
while millions of fellow humans starve. The beasts that eat what would keep
four or five famished people alive if that habit of consumption could be
redirected. No, Fifi, you survive another day.
Oh yes, a German shepherd, the dog used by the Belgians to
oppress the citizens of the Congo. What perfect irony! From oppressor
to deliverer. And the owners in my scope, a young couple in their
mid-twenties, presenting an opportunity to educate the populace
while young. The dog returns with a stick. He throws. Train the
sight on the stick for the dog will follow. A slight overrun.
The recovery. And during that brief moment of seizing the stick,
I seize the day with a squeeze of the trigger. A terse yipe emerges
from the Shepherd. Spot on, again! Another one bites the dust.
It looks as if the owner is fetching the dog. Find the shell,
then calmly disassemble thy weapon. His girlfriend reaches the
dog as well. Good man, comfort your significant other. A humanitarian
must harden to such scenes of tragedy. The stock squirreled into
the bag. It’s for your own good, lovely young couple. Sorry
that you must be an example paving the higher road for society.
A higher consciousness shall follow your grief, then you too,
can begin to cleanse humanity of its woes. Lest we forget the
victims of Hurricane Mitch in Honduras or the poverty-stricken
contending with floods in Bangladesh. Your donations toward ending
the suffering will be appreciated, now that your eyes have been
opened. Suppose this will be the last liberation at this park
for a while.
reat, the Sunday paper has already arrived. Nothing
like a cup of java while glancing through the news on the couch.
Civilized
living and a primer as
to why the masses must be reeducated. Another mass burial from ethnic cleansing
in the former Yugoslavia. The forecast of famine in North Korea bringing
misery to millions. Somalia’s warlords at it again and many people
forced to live in destitution.
Oh, what’s this! ? A small paragraph on page 17. “A
dog dying in a park of an apparent gunshot wound…A mystified
and heartbroken owner…authorities to investigate.” Wow,
picked up quicker than I thought. Today’s liberation should
make more of a splash tomorrow.
It makes me want to go right back out and continue the campaign,
but prudence pays. Let’s wait until tomorrow’s paper
and see what news it yields.
mm,
page 6 of the Monday edition. The cause should be featured prominently
before long. “DOG ASSASSIN!” Such a rousing headline.
But will they understand what the campaign hopes to accomplish?
I do it all in service to humanity. “Second dog in as many
days…same park in almost exact location…tearful owners
perplexed by shooting…The police promise to intensify investigation…deranged
individual.” I’m hardly deranged. In due time, one
of those Sherlocks will put the graffiti together with the liberations
and let my message be known. Maybe another late night series
of painting will lead the simpletons to the message.
he scourge of the earth. Like the
hordes stuffing their faces at all-you-can-eat buffets, indifferent to
the starving masses
of the planet. An obese, waddling
dog with an owner to match. A couple days’ rest to let the investigators
ease off, and a precautionary change of setting. I don’t like this
smaller park but the density of the brush compensates for its lack of size.
Sparse lighting, but not much needed to take out this beanbag of a mutt.
How can an owner let a collie go like this? It’s unnatural. This would
never happen in the wild. Amazing, it’s breaking into a run, oh,
for three steps. Okay, toddle along into the dim light of the street
lamp. Perfect.
Effortlessly done. Ethiopia moves one step closer to socioeconomic justice
and equality.
A day of reckoning for you, Mr. Overeater. For shame, while
your fellow human beings can’t get enough to eat. You’ve
let your gluttony run into your hound’s bowl and someone
had to pay. I’ve come to collect and correct your erroneous
ways. Society needs to be served notice. This one should play
well in the media. Who has pity for the intemperate? A photo
of the dog in tomorrow’s papers should speak volumes for
the cause. The Emancipator speaks for the starving masses.
age
3 now. A photo as well. “Mr. George Ramsey points to his
dog’s blood…” All the better for the people
to see you in your unnatural state. Too bad the article doesn’t
include a photo of the dog to demonstrate the overindulgent habits
you shared. How can people not take note of the blatantly criminal
side of your behavior? The rank and file shall soon put one and
one together. “DOG ASSASSIN STRIKES AGAIN!” I guess
the press has granted me a moniker for good. “…third
dog in less than a week…assassin changed time and location
of attack…The owner first thought it was a heart attack,
but felt dampness…and then the blood…`My Rolly was
the center of my life’…Local law officials can think
of no reason…detectives have been working on the case…The
public is warned…”
The public should be warned, to the effect that it abandons
its brothers and sisters of the world to undue suffering by ownership
of these animals. The dog food industry should be shut down outright
and rededicated to feeding the human species. Mr. Ramsey should
develop a new focus for his life, like dedicating himself to
feeding mankind. It doesn’t take a genius to see the obvious
misuse of resources, like it doesn’t take a genius to make
the connection between these liberations and their rationale
either. Guess I’ll have to spell it out for the good folk.
road
daylight. A wide-open park, which allows me to fire from long-range.
My, how quickly I’ve grown bolder. It took
the patience of Job to wait so many days. Surely, the justness
of the cause will guarantee my freedom
if I’m ever caught. No judge or jury could possibly convict me. The
bike locked at this end of the park for trouble-free flight. And a typed
note to attach to a nearby tree to explain the nature of the campaign. The
horses must be led to water, the waters of justice many never get to drink.
Nice weather, a little cool, but warm on this bench in the sun. A slight
hill, providing a bird’s eye view of the park. The initial alarm of
the liberations has abated. A fine day to take the dog out for a walk.
A child running with her dog, both chasing the wind. And her
mother sitting on a bench nearby. Just a mongrel, but certainly
as good an example as any other dog. No caste system in the extermination
of canines, but children must be spared from the bloodshed. An
article of war not often obeyed, yet I shall adhere to this law
of decency. No child’s trauma will be attached to my conscience.
The parents’ crimes against humanity should not besmirch
their children. Let them learn from the campaign and be better-adjusted,
more aware adults who realize their duty to the human race first.
Let them understand the divinity of loving fellow man, instead
of wasting it on an uncomprehending animal, an animal that would
be better off in the wild. Let there be less dog ownership in
future generations and a better understanding between peoples
of the planet. I’ll bide my time until a better candidate
appears.
My target has arrived. By Jove, that dog could stand at the
gates of Hades. Give that dog two more heads and Cerberus it
could easily be. He’s got it on a short, chain leash with
a spiked collar. And look at that proud owner. This rabid dog
devotee has spent an inordinate amount of time and energy on
that monster. Black boots, leather coat, a finer specimen of
ignorance not to be found. Bent on destruction, the both of them.
It’s sad that all the classes must be reeducated in this
manner. If he could refocus all that energy in a positive way
on his fellow human beings, what an improvement it would be.
First, I must scan the perimeter for possible witnesses. Admittedly,
it’s getting close to rush hour, not the best time for
this. I must confess to a certain, not exactly objective, temptation
to smite this animal to the ground. An emotion I must ponder
later. Regardless, it looks clear. The target, about 300 meters
away. Plenty of time to dismantle The Emancipator and steal away.
Despite an inkling of reservation, I’ll move stealthily
to the tree. Tack the note to the tree. Now down on my stomach
to steady my aim. A last glimpse around to reassure myself of
a clean getaway with no witnesses.
My goodness, he’s stopped to allow Cerberus to take a
dump. Step away, yes. Extend the leash. As if scripted by the
gods. First shot, in the ribs, a slight collapse. Squeeze again,
oh, no doubts about it. Another liberation completed. May you
be free my friend, free from your misdirected actions. I wish
you a new lease on life. The two shells pocketed. The Emancipator
bagged and ready to travel. Now rise and take a looksee. Time
to move, I’ve been spotted. I guess this guy has the personality
of his dearly departed as he’s clearly in attack mode.
A light jog without panic to the bike and pre-calculated escape.
Lord above, can that guy yell. Almost comical to hear him yell “Dog
Assassin!” except he sounds so close. Damn it, he is pretty
close. He must be Carl Lewis, in Doc Dentons no less. I’d
better pick it up. Stop fumbling with your keys. I can feel people
looking at me as this madman keeps screaming. God, he’s
getting closer. Hurry! Grab the chain and lock, and pedal. Pedal
like hell and catch that green light. Phew! If I don’t
catch that green light, The Emancipator and I might be standing
trial, if not engaged in a mano a mano struggle for dear life.
Way too narrow an escape. I must reconsider my methods.
So glad to be home. My pulse is still racing. Pour a cup of
tea and relax. My boldness could be considered stupidity. First
of all, learn to trust my
instincts. If I’m to carry on liberating, more care must be taken.
This work’s too important. I never felt comfortable and that liberation
was decidedly risky. The consideration of targets must remain objective.
Emotions mustn’t interfere. Think through your strategy. Shoot from
cover. Either early morning or night shooting. No more daytime shootings.
This campaign will persist only if intelligence is employed. And definitely
no liberations from the same places as the police may now have a description.
he
cause has made the big-time. Front page news. Sensational enough
to warrant it, I suppose. “DOG ASSASSIN GROWS BRAVER!” Won’t
make that mistake again. Another photo as well, with a caption. “Bruno,
the fourth unfortunate victim in two weeks, shot at…” Unfortunate
victim! A killer if I ever saw one. And its owner the victim
before its death, a victim of an industrialized nation’s
indoctrination. Not to mention the empty-stomached victims of
the developing nations.
Let’s see what else it says. “Yesterday, another
brazen dog shooting took place…in broad daylight…’He
sat down in his own excrement [sic] after the first shot and…I
didn’t realize right away…then he keeled over after
the second…I chased him and would have caught him if he
didn’t have a bike…if I get my hands on him…I’ll
get another dog…I found a note on the tree he was hiding
behind…I loved that dog’…Police say they have
a description…Officer Hansen…’Oh, he’ll
make a mistake! …we’ll catch him…getting careless…We
know what makes him tick…after leaving a note…a sick
one’…continued page 12” A sick one! After reading
the note. He’s got to The story continues from there.
“DOG ASSASSIN’S LETTER” Thank God they published
it. At least the public wasn’t left in the dark about my
motivation. Now it won’t be as easy for the authorities
to prosecute because people will know that I’m not psychotic. “These
are not senseless liberations. The Emancipator frees each person
from wasting resources on animals while humanity cries out in
agony for attention. Free your pets and give your energy to fellow
human beings!” Not exactly a manifesto but the populace
should understand. I can take a break from the cause and let
the message sink in.
ack to work. I’ve been psychoanalyzed and criticized
in the papers, but the furore has died down. Few seem to understand
the purity of my objective, so that means more work to do. It’s
difficult to bring society out of its haze of ignorance. Old
habits die harder than a few dogs. This campaign of education
will overthrow convention and prevail. Learning takes time. The
morality of a pampered people needs to broken down so it can
be rebuilt. The Emancipator and I shall set the correct course
for civilization.
An unchristened park in a different part of the city. This
should really shake them up, variety being the spice of life
but difficult to predict. Detective Hansen thinks he knows what
makes me tick, but where I tick is more important. Superb layout,
an excellent setting for a liberation. Some brush of medium height
with some low-lying flora to shoot from. A gap of forty meters
to scope out the potential “victim.” Ample space
in terms of trajectory. Adequate distance to clear the scene
even if detected by another vigilante dog owner. Not to mention
a two and a half week vacation, plenty of time to lull dog owners
back into their habit of taking Old Yeller out for a stroll.
My guess, the authorities have eased their efforts by now as
well. No dragnet set for me, a return to the deliberate delivery
and surprise of my earlier efforts.
But where do man and his best friend conceal themselves? Surely
not cowering in front of their TVs waiting for the next owner
to be liberated. Seems an eternity I’ve been lying here
while it grows colder. Could this be a less visited public place
than I presumed? It appears residential enough to warrant some
canine traffic. What a shame. Perhaps best to wait for another
opportunity. No need to rush this vital work.
Ahhh, what’s this? A candidate approaches. But disappointing,
The Emancipator has let similar creatures escape unscathed. An
elderly woman with her cure for the empty nest syndrome. A white,
curly-haired poodle on a leash. Sorry, but you don’t need
a doctor to diagnose the cure for this syndrome: Get more involved
in the global community. You’re not dead yet lady, and
you can make a difference. Similar small consumers have been
spared, but the success of a day lies in the balance. Nothing
personal, ma’am, but that yelping half-pint of a Fifi shall
be terminated in a further opening of the campaign. A previously
overlooked objectivity allows for the inclusion of candidates
of any size. Even small packages can carry important messages.
Whoa, look at her arm jerk from the impact. What’s she
doing? Looks as if she’s been shot. Oh no, she’s
down. I hope it’s the shock and nothing else. Not going
to wait around and find out. The Emancipator disassembled. Oops,
almost forgot the spent brass. Time to vacate the premises.
OG
ASSASSIN CLAIMS TWO MORE VICTIMS!” Oh no, the worst of
my fears, an unintended casualty. “Mrs. Harriet O’Brien…an
apparent heart attack…walking her dog yesterday evening…A
schoolboy discovered…dog had been shot…authorities
guess…cardiac arrest occurred after the Dog Assassin had
struck again…Detective Hansen, the investigator in charge,
arrived…The area was cordoned off…’I believe
it was the same shooter…Forensics will be…The suspect
will be charged with first degree murder when apprehended’…distraught
family offers reward…The mayor vowed…all the city’s
resources…outside agencies may be called in…’What
kind of maniac…city must be made safe for its citizens’…Where
will he strike next?…Dog owners are cautioned…Walking
patrols in the city’s parks…”
I’m in deep doodoo. I have to explain this accident.
How can one liberate the dead from their erroneous ways? Modifying
behavior is the objective, not murder. Turning myself in won’t
do any good. Simply an accident, nothing more. The campaign must
forge ahead. A casualty of a higher purpose, fallen from friendly
fire. The network news has picked up the story. Finally, the
cause will get the exposure it deserves. I must release a statement
to the press, an apology yet reaffirmation of the values of my
actions. Perhaps the people will make her a martyr if they understand
that she didn’t die in vain. If awareness of the great
problems of this planet is raised, she may become a folk hero.
meant not to harm any individuals but the plight of humanity
rests on your conscience. The ownership of a dog is a crime of
insidious apathy against
your fellow humans. The resources wasted in feeding, treating, grooming, not
to mention the energy given dogs in general screams of ignorance when considering
the plight of the many other disenfranchised human beings on this planet. Starvation,
famine, poverty, disease only begin the list of maladies visited upon humankind
daily while dog owners spoil their pets and wile away energy and monetary resources
that could be better spent on the rest of the world. I apologize to the woman’s
family for the grief I have brought upon them, but rest easy with my convictions
that society must be shocked into awareness of the world’s more pressing
problems.”
“This message appeared today in newspapers across the
country as the Dog Assassin attempted to justify his role in
the tragic death of Mrs. Harriet O’Brien earlier this week.
Federal agencies have been called in to analyze the letter and
its contents. Authorities have traced it to the post office of
its delivery and forensics experts are investigating to see what
further clues this letter may yield. The city has urged its citizens
to resist the temptation to take their dogs for walks during
the night and early morning hours and may announce safe hours
in the city’s parks with walking patrols providing protection.
We talked with psychologist Alan Steinmacher about the Dog Assassin.”
‘He has a vainglorious sense of self, an unnerving combination
of a Jesus Christ/Robin Hood Syndrome, which makes him feel as
though he is saving the world. I say unnerving because this man
is convinced he is morally correct, yet uses methods of violence
to propagate his beliefs. Ironically, his methods expose a growing
insanity, an expression of helplessness to effectively change
society’s values that doesn’t coexist peacefully
with the acknowledged rules by which the larger whole operates.
His methods may even define a new brand of righteous yet deluded
psychopath. I fear that we, in our democracy as it now functions,
may see more of this violent rebellion against the status quo
as more individuals reach the limits of what they can withstand
while carrying heightening feelings of powerlessness.’
“Detective Hansen, who is spearheading the local efforts
to bring the Dog Assassin to justice, acknowledged the oddity
and difficulty of the case, but feels that his department, with
the cooperation of other law enforcement agencies, is close to
solving the case.”
‘We’ve got several leads that we’re following
up at the moment. He doesn’t fit the typical mold of criminal
we’re accustomed to investigating, but we feel as if the
suspect has left some very analyzable clues behind and that we’re
close to making a breakthrough.’
“Channel 6 will bring you more updates in this story
at 11.”
Where did they find that quack of a psychologist anyway? Can
always depend on the media to make a circus of anything. Why
can’t they examine the state of morality today? How can
they simply skip over the real issues of the campaign? This country
misinforms its citizenry so easily. They’ve spun these
liberations into a maniac’s rebellion against society when
it’s truly for the betterment of society. Nonetheless,
patience must reign supreme. Some people must understand. There’s
a gray zone, but the good far outweighs the bad. Again, best
to wait until the atmosphere of alarm calms. The short memory
of the public works both for and against the cause.
ack to the
original scene of the crime, right down to the leaves I shot
from, warmth radiating from the sacred ground. And with
this warmth comes a righteous
sense of duty to those less fortunate borne out by the hopelessness of the
authority’s efforts to stop the campaign. The damp coolness of the
morn makes me feel at one with nature and at ease with the work at hand.
Not a lot of activity to be spoken of in the harmony of dawn. Looks like
one old gentleman is enjoying the solace of the early hour on a bench in
the distance. Almost wish to sit and speak with him, but too intrusive, and
procrastination doesn’t jibe well with me. Focus, just like the focus
the populace needs. The cause shall reenter the fading limelight today. The
Emancipator at the ready, waiting for its opportunity. As sure as the sun
warms the earth, the moment will soon arise. Liberation from misdirected
consumerism the warmth The Emancipator and I shall bring today.
It’s amazing what this campaign has done for the unheard
majority of the world. I tired of protests. I’ve written
to Congressmen, letters to newspaper editors, even the president.
The politicians don’t care. They’re servants of the
rich and slaves to corporate interests. I sent money to non-profit
bureaucracies and never sensed any real change being effected.
But I’ve never felt better in all my life. I’m changing
ideas and philosophies hands-on. Who really speaks for the little
man, the economically oppressed, the starving, the disadvantaged?
The Emancipator and—
Splendid, a man and his dog. Forties, fit, in the earning prime
of his life. And what have you spent your money on, a mutt. Looks
like the lowliest of castaways from the pound, the object of
your family’s misguided endearment, not to mention the
resources that could feed a family in a small village in Bolivia
for a month during that lowly cur’s lifetime. As aesthetically
unpleasing as that dog is, shall be the enlightenment that you
will soon experience. Look at the ridiculous mongrel, pulling
to and fro against the leash without the vaguest sense of discipline,
as unruly as it is unsightly. This will be a dual euthanasia.
Goodness me, I must be developing prejudices. Objectivity must
be the rule. Not the easiest target, but it’ll settle down.
Unleash the animal, oh yes, a beeline for the tree with the moss
growing greener at the bottom. Raise a leg, liberated, simple
as that. The Emancipator, thy mission accomplished.
What’s that? The sound of dogs and a bullhorn. The gentleman
at the tree, frantically looking around. The man from the bench,
yelling into a two-way, moving in the liberation’s direction
as well. Could it be a trap? Better make haste, something’s
not kosher here. The Emancipator, the evidence, my comrade and
hero, ready to roll. Another figure to the right, heading into
the brush to cut off my escape. Those dogs sound rabid and close.
If I could create a location for a showdown with them, a clearing
where I could get a few clean shots off. Too late for that now,
I’d better get the hell out of here. The path to the ball
field might be best. By the sound of the yelps, they must be
right on my tail.
Might be wisest to part with my faithful sidekick, The Emancipator.
Leave it in the middle of the trail and give those bastard dogs
something to sniff at for a few minutes. Over the fence and across
the field, try to get to the woods on the other side, then into
the subway, or onto a bus. Sounds like the dogs have changed
the tone of their howling, must have stumbled upon The Emancipator.
“Stop! Police!”
Where did he come from? Guess I’ll have to leap the fence
at the far end. Shit, those bastard dogs have entered the playing
field. Wish I had The Emancipator. Got to get to that fence or
the enemy will sink its teeth into me. Got to run faster. Almost
there, up to freedom.
“Ahh, my leg! Let me go, you hellhound! God, that hurts!”
Got to pull harder, lift myself a little higher and it’ll
let go, but the pain.
“Okay, I give up! Get that beast off of me!”
“Heal! Heal, Major! Down boy!”
Ccchk! ‘‘Get Hansen here right now. We’ve
got his friend on the ball field. You have the right to remain
silent...”
[END]
© 2004 Evan Christopher - Contributor's
Bio
