When I was a young boy I used to love stories. It didn’t matter if it was urban legends, or tales of the golden days. I would just sit and listen as people reminisce and tell their tale. But there is one story that was told to me, a story that I will never forget…
It was told by an old friend of the family that passed away sadly a few years ago. He told me this horrible tale of survival, when he was just a young man. So, I sat down and listened to every word that he had to say. His story I’m about to tell you is his word for word…
The year was 1950 and I was a young and very proud man who always did right by everyone in the spring of my twenties. Alas I was also stubborn and more of a fool than I knew at the time. I went hunting out in the Deep Wilderness of Tennessee. It was snowing that year, but I didn’t care, I went hunting anyway. So I packed up my hunting dog and went on my way. As I was driving down the road, I was listening on the radio the forecast said there was violent snow storms heading this way.
Now we didn’t have the machines that you, young people have today to tell you what is accurate or not. So, I ignored it and proceeded to go up in the mountains. I parked my truck, I unloaded my dog, and went off hunting. Everything was going well, no trouble to be seen. Until the wind picked up and snow started to fall real heavy.
Since the wind had got even worse, I got turned around and lost my way. The wind mixed with snow was too thick to see through no matter which way I walked, or which path I took. I saw no signs of my truck in the distance. Every tree seemed like a blur and everything else was twisted.
About an hour walking through the storm and freezing wind; I came across a cave to shield myself from the harsh weather. All that was left, was to find what I could to build a fire to keep warm. Once the fire was lit, I began to get hungry, so I started to cook the kill that I killed earlier that day. Now I took out my pocket knife started to skin, and clean the meat.
I must have been hungry that day because I had eaten every last bit of what I killed before I knew. Probably thinking once the storm passed I could leave, but I was terribly wrong. The storm didn’t let up at all. Slowly minutes turned into hours and then hours turn into days. It was just me and my loyal hunting dog, Bill, trapped in that cave as the storm got worse and worse.
Days turned into weeks, and I was so hungry. I couldn’t take the pain in my stomach any longer. I began to hallucinate, damn near lost my mind in that cave. Though I was able to maintain warmth; I couldn’t find food and I sure as hell wasn’t going out in that blizzard. Then something terrible over took me. An idea that I will just describe as madness, what I did next was something that I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
I looked at my hunting dog and called him over. As he moved over to me, I pretended to pet him just to get his guard down. Just to make sure I did this right, cause if I failed I would surely die. As I grabbed his head with both of my hands, just rubbing his ears. With one forceful jerk I snapped my beloved companions neck. His body went limp in my arms and froze as cold as the air. I drew my knife once again, coldly I ran my blade down his body from head to foot. As the blood dripped down on the cave floor; I ripped his fur off his dead flesh, my eyes showed no emotion. All the good times we had gone like the ebbing of his heart.
As I bled him out and started filleting his skin, like one of the wild turkeys we used to hunt. I knew that I had to make it last. I was so hungry, but his flesh tasted so good. I ravenously scarfed down every juicy succulent morsel of my once faithful companion. If it wasn’t for him I would have surely died, so I ripped him apart. Slowly devouring my best friend for days, until finally the storm passed. When I was able to go home I was able to eat regular food again.
Each time I go to sit down and sink my teeth into something as simple as a cheeseburger, all I can think about as the juicy texture of that dog. No matter what I ate, no matter how I cooked it, the craving was still there. I did the unthinkable, I resulted to taking strays off of the street butchering and eating them. I have tried to stop, but the hunger was too much. I have become a monster resorting to kidnapping stray dogs and occasionally kidnapping the neighbor’s dog, so I can feed my appetite. Yes, every once in awhile I will eat regular food, but again it did not come close.
The only luscious meat that I needed was from man’s best friend. My boy, I only wish I could tell you that it stopped as I got older but I would be lying to you. It just got worse, right now as I sit here talking to you. I think of a delicious tender dog roast. So, my advice to you kid if you’re ever trapped in a snowstorm it’s best that you starve to death or save your rations. Cause you never know when your faithful companion might actually be your next meal…
So that was the old man’s story. After hearing that I couldn’t believe it, but the look in his eyes told a different story that I knew was telling the truth. So now that I’m older and I listen to stories. I listen closely and clearly, because you never know when it might be true or not.
