After the Third Shot the Dog Was Silent

The other night there was a commotion in lower Zuma Canyon in Malibu. Five shots rang out in a residential area; between the second and third shots there came the cry of a dog, a cry of terror and agony. Then the dog was silent forever.

Several neighbors heard the shots; they agreed that the shots seemed to emanate from the same general direction from which shots had been fired two to three weeks earlier, shattering the window of a guest house. Luckily the guest house was unoccupied at the time. No one came forth to accept responsibility for either incident--little surprise.

Destruction to property, destruction of a living creature--someone or several individuals devoid of conscience and human sensibilities committed these acts. A window can be replaced. A 12-year association between a young woman and a dog? Shatter that, and all you’ve got are heartache and memories. It was my dog Buck who mysteriously got in the way of a dangerous fool with a loaded gun. Does this fool shoot at anything that moves? What license, what justification has he to fire a weapon in a residential area, let alone shoot to kill? It is my fault that one night my dog got loose to rove. But how extreme the punishment for one lapse on my part!

This is no ode to Buck. He was not the best of dogs, he wasn’t noble, he wasn’t even terribly affectionate. But he was himself: a dashingly beautiful animal undiminished by his advanced age, an ex-New York City dog who became a hiker in these hills, an ocean-skipping beach tramp, a comforting presence on my porch when I went to sleep at night and when I awoke in the morning.

We searched long and futilely for a trace of the dog after the commotion. I harbor no hope that Buck will be found alive. I do hope that his slayer will be found and made to realize the horrible anguish his action brought into innocent, life-loving lives.

GLORIA GLASSER

Malibu