Read Online Pit Bulls vs Aliens by Neal Wooten - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Neal Wooten
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me.”
Francisco continued to spin a yarn of immense proportions, much to the delight of his little sister. Finally their mama called them to eat. They each went to the bathroom to wash their hands and joined their mama at the small Formica kitchen table.
“Will you say grace, Francisco?” his mama asked.
Francisco nodded. He asked the blessing, and they dined on homemade tamales and drank real lemonade until they were full. Afterward, they sat around the table and chatted for a long time. It was like they were a family again all under the same roof. They had a good time being together, until Francisco’s cell phone rang. His mama watched suspiciously.
“ Hola? Yes, I can come by. I’ll be there soon.”
“More work ?” his mama asked sarcastically.
Francisco smiled. “No, Mama. That was Ms. Rhonda at the shelter. They have a new dog and need some help.”
His mama dropped her head. “I’m sorry. Go help them. You know I worry about you.”
“And I worry about you. Please get a refill. Okay?”
Maria came up and hugged him around the waist.
“And get Chiquita here some vitamins so she can finally grow.”
His mama nodded as he left the house.
Thirty minutes later, Francisco pulled his car up to the dog shelter outside of town. It was an old vegetable processing plant from years ago, but now it was just a large, rickety old shed that Ms. Rhonda, an old American woman, had converted into the only shelter for many towns around. No one knew where Ms. Rhonda came from. She just showed up one day about eight years ago with the deed to this property and a carload of pit bulls.
It was hard to tell her age, because her skin was wrinkled more than normal due to hard work and the desert sun. She always wore a huge sombrero to protect herself from the harsh rays. She seemed to wear the same faded jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off every day. She was very short and thin and appeared very frail, but everyone knew better. Many times the citizens of El Triunfo had seen her carrying fifty-pound bags of dog food and more than once had witnessed her carrying a full-grown pit bull over her shoulders to bring to the doctor in town.
She had paid someone to drag an old pop-up camper out here and it now represented her living quarters, although she spent much more time under the shed with the dogs. Word got around fast, and for many towns around if people found a stray or couldn’t take care of their own pit bulls, they brought them to Ms. Rhonda.
Ms. Rhonda and her two volunteers met him at his car.
“Where is he?” Francisco asked.
“He’s back here,” Ms. Rhonda said and led him inside.
They passed about fifteen stalls with unwanted or stray pits until they got to the last stall. Inside was a very large, very dirty, very scarred, and very angry pit bull. He was a unique color, white with feathered spots and a large circle that wrapped around his back like a saddle, which was a brindled brown with black stripes. Half of his huge head was the same brindled color. The rest was white with the little speckles. He wore a muzzle to keep him from biting anyone. He lunged at the gate as Francisco walked up.
“We think he was a fighting dog,” Ms. Rhonda said.
“Doubtful. He’s still alive. I’m betting he wouldn’t fight so they used him for training.” Francisco shook his head and wondered how anyone could do that to such a beautiful animal. “Come here,” he said.
The dog lunged again and Francisco caught his collar. He held him tight and worked the buckle on the side of the muzzle and slid it off. He let go of the collar, and the dog seized the opportunity of no longer having the muzzle to growl and bite at Francisco.
Francisco looked at Ms. Rhonda and the two young Mexican boys who helped her out.
“Oh right. Let’s go, boys, and leave Francisco and Beast alone.” Ms. Rhonda knew how he liked to work, so they excused themselves. Francisco preferred no distractions when trying to gain a
Francisco continued to spin a yarn of immense proportions, much to the delight of his little sister. Finally their mama called them to eat. They each went to the bathroom to wash their hands and joined their mama at the small Formica kitchen table.
“Will you say grace, Francisco?” his mama asked.
Francisco nodded. He asked the blessing, and they dined on homemade tamales and drank real lemonade until they were full. Afterward, they sat around the table and chatted for a long time. It was like they were a family again all under the same roof. They had a good time being together, until Francisco’s cell phone rang. His mama watched suspiciously.
“ Hola? Yes, I can come by. I’ll be there soon.”
“More work ?” his mama asked sarcastically.
Francisco smiled. “No, Mama. That was Ms. Rhonda at the shelter. They have a new dog and need some help.”
His mama dropped her head. “I’m sorry. Go help them. You know I worry about you.”
“And I worry about you. Please get a refill. Okay?”
Maria came up and hugged him around the waist.
“And get Chiquita here some vitamins so she can finally grow.”
His mama nodded as he left the house.
Thirty minutes later, Francisco pulled his car up to the dog shelter outside of town. It was an old vegetable processing plant from years ago, but now it was just a large, rickety old shed that Ms. Rhonda, an old American woman, had converted into the only shelter for many towns around. No one knew where Ms. Rhonda came from. She just showed up one day about eight years ago with the deed to this property and a carload of pit bulls.
It was hard to tell her age, because her skin was wrinkled more than normal due to hard work and the desert sun. She always wore a huge sombrero to protect herself from the harsh rays. She seemed to wear the same faded jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off every day. She was very short and thin and appeared very frail, but everyone knew better. Many times the citizens of El Triunfo had seen her carrying fifty-pound bags of dog food and more than once had witnessed her carrying a full-grown pit bull over her shoulders to bring to the doctor in town.
She had paid someone to drag an old pop-up camper out here and it now represented her living quarters, although she spent much more time under the shed with the dogs. Word got around fast, and for many towns around if people found a stray or couldn’t take care of their own pit bulls, they brought them to Ms. Rhonda.
Ms. Rhonda and her two volunteers met him at his car.
“Where is he?” Francisco asked.
“He’s back here,” Ms. Rhonda said and led him inside.
They passed about fifteen stalls with unwanted or stray pits until they got to the last stall. Inside was a very large, very dirty, very scarred, and very angry pit bull. He was a unique color, white with feathered spots and a large circle that wrapped around his back like a saddle, which was a brindled brown with black stripes. Half of his huge head was the same brindled color. The rest was white with the little speckles. He wore a muzzle to keep him from biting anyone. He lunged at the gate as Francisco walked up.
“We think he was a fighting dog,” Ms. Rhonda said.
“Doubtful. He’s still alive. I’m betting he wouldn’t fight so they used him for training.” Francisco shook his head and wondered how anyone could do that to such a beautiful animal. “Come here,” he said.
The dog lunged again and Francisco caught his collar. He held him tight and worked the buckle on the side of the muzzle and slid it off. He let go of the collar, and the dog seized the opportunity of no longer having the muzzle to growl and bite at Francisco.
Francisco looked at Ms. Rhonda and the two young Mexican boys who helped her out.
“Oh right. Let’s go, boys, and leave Francisco and Beast alone.” Ms. Rhonda knew how he liked to work, so they excused themselves. Francisco preferred no distractions when trying to gain a
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