Sunday, December 11, 2011

When Might is Right: Excerpt from Follow the Dog Home

Excerpt from Follow the Dog Home Book
as told by Bob Walsh:

It was the kind of thing that would bring
a lot of kids to tears, but not Dicky and not me. I was mad
and determined to get even.

I took off running after the kid. Another friend joined me.
I think the offending boy was surprised how quickly we
caught up to him. He hadn’t even reached the corner before
we grabbed him. He put up a little fight but was totally
overmatched. We dragged him by his wrists and shoulders
all the way back to Dicky, who was grinning and waiting.

Dicky’s eyes lit up when his tormentor approached with a
fearful look on his face. Dick dropped his crutches, reached
out with his arms and said, “Let him go.”

As soon as we turned him over, Dick had the kid
wrapped up in a tight bear hug. The kid tried to wiggle
away but was no match for Dick’s unbelievable upper body
strength. Although just a fourth grader, Dick was
probably as strong as a high school offensive lineman
because of his time on crutches.

Pleading for mercy, the big kid was in tears and out of
breath. After about a minute, Dick dropped him. He had
all but squeezed the life out of him. The much larger boy walked
away, looking small and defeated.

A short time later, there was a knock at the door. My
mother answered. A woman with the same ten-year-old
boy standing alongside asked if there was a boy named
Bobby Walsh who lived there.
“Yes, I have a son named
Bobby,” Mom answered. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well a boy named Bobby beat up my son,” she said.

She left out the part about Dick being teased, or maybe
her son didn’t tell her about it. Dick and I could hear the
conversation from where we were in the kitchen. We
made our way over to the breezeway for a better listen,
but we were careful not to stick our heads out too far so as
not to be noticed.

As the volume and tone of the conversation grew, so
did Dick’s eyes. He looked at me with a sense of shock
and wonder about whether we might be in trouble. No
sooner did I shrug my shoulders, Mom called out my
name, summoning me to the front door.

I left Dicky and Poker in the kitchen. Mom pointed at
the boy and asked me, “Did you beat that boy up?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Why did you do that?” Mom wanted to know,
somewhat angry herself now.

“Because he called Dicky a cripple,” I announced.

As soon as I said it, Dick came hobbling to the front
door with Poker in tow for moral support. Boots caught
ear of it and followed. Poker poked his head out from
between Mom’s legs and barked at the boy. The other
mother was mortified by what she saw and what her son
had said.

*Read what the cruel boy's mother did to him for his
verbal offense in the next excerpt from Follow the Dog

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