Stuff like this probably happens all the time, but this event is different in that the majority of other atrocities that happen in the redneck communities, they don’t turn themselves in. The criminal act itself is very ambitious, I mean, how did they expect to turn their dog’s hide into a belt?

First of all, they must not like their dog very much. Imagine waking up in the morning, bleary eyed and finding to your horror that your belt is missing. But just as you are reaching for you car keys the ever persistent and aggravating racket from the dog house penetrates your eardrums. This strikes a spark of inspiration from the flint of your inner caveman instinct. You walk to the shed out back and fetch your very best garden hoe. It feels strong and cold in your worn farmer’s hands, battered from years of manual labor and child abuse. It all happens so fast that before you know it, you have a brand new belt fastened to your midriff, saving you a trip to the neighborhood Wal-Mart (and the obvious high standards of dress that come with it). All is well, except from the terrible mess made by your little project. It then occurs to you that it would be more worth while if you were to turn yourself in and go to prison. It would save you having to clean up after yourself and you would get free meals, health care, and sexual experiences that don’t require emptying your wallet. At first it sounds a bit too much like communism, but one more look at your sh*tty caravan covered in dog chunks convinces you that it’s worth the risk.

The amount of resources required to fashion a belt must be immense. First you need to skin the dog: okay, they’ve got that covered, they’re rednecks, they skin animals for every meal. Then you need to tan the hide which is very long, stinky and messy process. They must have been real handymen. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t do it.

The question that I ask myself is what to call this incident? I want to call it animal cruelty, but they didn’t torture the dog or anything, right? I mean, if a person is shot we call it a murder, so wouldn’t we call this “animal homicide?” There is no doubt in my mind that this event was indeed very cruel, and I do not wish that fate of that poor animal on any other living thing. But questions come to mind about what you need to call stuff. Okay . . . never mind, let’s just call this animal cruelty before I become the victim of a gruesome crime committed by one of our more passionate readers. I would write more but my doctrine has always been quality over quantity unlike some people I know (Nathan). I just have to pray that my writing has even an ounce of quality to it then I’m in the clear. If not, then Nathan will probably skin me and use my flesh to make a very nice dinner jacket. At least I can be sure that the quality of that jacket will be second to none.

Good night.