We woke up this morning to a neighbor wailing. Her dog had died. She died pregnant and the story behind her death makes my stomach turn.
Apparently, a nine-year-old boy in the neighborhood was behind it. He poisoned the dog out of revenge because the dog’s owner had told him to stop coming around her compound. She didn’t want him near her kids anymore; she said he was rude and rough, and she didn’t want that energy rubbing off on them.
But, before this kid left, she said he swore on his life that he would poison her dog. He had told her that his grandfather had herbs that could kill, and that he knew how to use them. She shouted after him, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare come back here!”
But he did, just as he said. And this morning, the poor dog was gone.
I can’t lie, I felt a mix of anger, sadness and disbelief. The parents of the boy, when confronted, denied everything. They said he couldn’t have done it as if we all didn’t know the kind of child he was. He has a history of hurting animals around the neighborhood, but everyone just shrugs it off because, “Oh, he’s just a child. He will change in the near future. Comical.
Actually, it bothers me because that’s how it always starts.
No serial killer suddenly wakes up one day wanting to kill. They begin with small acts, acts that people dismiss. The child who takes pleasure in cruelty grows up learning that empathy is optional. They learn that accountability is negotiable. And by the time the world decides to pay attention, it’s already too late.
At this point it’s not just about a dead dog anymore. It’s about what kind of society we’re raising when parents protect their children from consequences instead of correcting them. When communities stay silent because of the ‘it’s not our business’ theory. When cruelty becomes a habit that no one interrupts.
The neighbor wishes she never told him not to dare. She wishes she could turn the hands of time. Her beloved dog, so healthy and beautiful she was called, Bambi.
She said she knew her words weren't just a warning but she thought it would hold water. The “don’t you dare” was more of fear and frustration. It was everything a good person says when they still believe there’s some good left to appeal to.
But he dared anyway. And now a family is mourning their companion, a heavily pregnant poor Bambi. She was calm and never never hurt anyone, I believe she probably wagged her tail at the very boy who would end her life.
The saddest part is that no one’s learning anything from it.
