Susan Smith drove her car into a lake and drowned her two sons because her boy friend rejected her. Life in prison. Andrea Yates drowned her five children. Post partum depression. Life in prison commuted to a mental institution. Michael Vick. Tortured and killed dogs because they didn't perform well in an activity that is illegal to begin with.
Punishment? Well, lying about it didn't work. A plea deal yet to be determined. Why? Because they're only animals? Forget about the racketeering and gambling.
He'll spend some time in jail. He'll pay some fines. Probably not enough of either to satisfy me. That remains to be seen. I'm waiting for the NFL to do the right thing. That too remains to be seen.
Pictured is my dog, Bacchus, on his "chaise" in his van. For an expensive pure bred he isn't worth much. He has entropic eyes, dysplasia, a propensity for yeast infections in his ears, a spastic tummy and some yucky hot spots that are finally beginning to clear up.
He isn't known for performing well on his leash unless only he and I are around. Or Dad. Otherwise his enthusiasm for people gets the best of him and greetings abound whether they're wanted or not. His manners, otherwise, are pretty good. I love him. I cherish him. And I spoil him rotten.
I will spend every dollar necessary to keep him as well as I can for as long as I can. If anybody would ever lift a finger to harm him they would have to answer to me - in kind. That is no threat. That is a promise. And the proverbial book would probably be thrown at me.
A line attributed to Mr. Vick's attorney in an AP story made my blood run cold. "Michael is a father, he's a son, he's a human being; people oftentimes forget that," he said.
Yes. Bacchus is my dog. Not my child. Mr. Vick killed dogs. Not his child. Wow. Whatta guy.