Yes the headline may have lost some of its edge as it’s now 1:47am on November 1st. But, as a writer, there are times where you have to, as the old saying goes, strike when the iron is hot.
In this case it is boiling, seething with rage. In 99.9% of ways, I love Dunboyne with every fibre of my being. But, and as a dear, departed friend often said, it’s what comes after the ‘But’ that counts, I have learned of an incident which has made me physically ill. Yes, literally.
Now, the details of the occurrence are so ghastly and graphic that I have no intention of going into them here. Other than to say that, to me at least, it represents a new low for the locality.
Hope would be that there wouldn’t be cries of ‘kids will be kids’ in attempts to somehow excuse an act of utter barbarism.
We as humanity don’t deserve dogs – or any animals for that matter – but particularly dogs. That’s why it would be my earnest hope that the best of this place that we call home will rise above and assist in the acquisition of justice for a beautiful, defenceless creature and their undoubtedly devastated owner(s).
Long before Friday night’s outrage, I’ve always detested Halloween. Yes the fact that the bangers – some of which resemble ground-to-air missiles – drive my spasms demented.
Then, there were two separate occasions on which this locality literally was under siege. On one of which yours truly had bangers fired under the wheelchair like the Stingers you see Police deploying to halt dangerous drivers.
Only slightly worse than that was the occasion on which the place was invaded by a rabble who, at one point, blocked the entrance to one of the town’s watering holes until the thin blue line arrived with their ‘people carrier’ to afford the lovely people bed and breakfast for the night.
The final Halloween horror which is all too fresh in the memory blessedly had a relatively better outcome than might well have been the case. When you return after midterm in 6th class in primary school and find your teacher openly bawling at the top of the class instinct tells you there’s something major afoot. So flummoxed would one be by the bizarre scenario, thought wouldn’t be parked for so long as to discern what the issue was.
Soon though, it became all too obvious. One of our classmates had lost his eye in an incident involving a banger over the week off. Just another reason to detest the time of year in question. That’s only a personal thing though. I’m fully for each to their own and all that.
As long as it’s safe, sensible and respectful. Sadly, somewhere in our community on Friday night, there was none of that. Trot over the Rainbow Bridge, gentle soul.
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