Trooper’s Revenge

By: John “Butch” Dale

Did you ever do something really stupid when you were young? Come on now, admit it. Here’s one from my youth…When I was about ten years old, my brother Gary and I wanted a dog. We had no money, and we knew that our folks wouldn’t want to spend much. But fortune came our way. A nearby couple, Boyd and Martha Price, raised and sold Boston Terriers. Boyd called Dad one afternoon and told him there was a male that he couldn’t sell because it had a crooked tail…so he would let my brother and I have it for free! We drove over there and picked it up…the cutest little black and white dog I had ever seen, and we named it Trooper.

Trooper was an instant hit with the family. He followed us around wherever we went. He liked to fetch the ball, chase chickens and cows, and bark whenever someone drove up our lane. We tried to teach him tricks, but he was too excited just being with us. Trooper ate just about anything. He loved scraps from the dinner table, but his favorite food was bologna. Gary and I would throw him a slice, and he would jump in the air and grab it before it hit the ground. Sometimes we forgot to take off the bologna wrapper, and the next day Trooper could be seen scooting his rear end on the ground, trying to get shed of the wrapper!

One afternoon Gary and I walked down the lane to retrieve the mail. Trooper followed us, and as I opened the mailbox, a car was traveling west towards Darlington. It was Lew Bush in his 1949 Ford. He was quite old and drove about 30 mph top speed. As I started back to the house, Trooper saw the car, ran to the road, and started barking. Bad timing. Lew’s car tire hit Trooper and knocked him for a loop. Lew kept on going down the road. Gary ran across the road to tell Dad, who was at our aunt and uncle’s house.

Trooper’s face was swollen and covered in blood. One eye was completely bloodshot. He couldn’t walk, so I carried him to the house. Dad arrived and laid Trooper down on a blanket on the back porch and gave him a drink of water. He just laid there and whimpered the rest of that afternoon and evening. The outlook for recovery was not good. However, a couple of days later, Trooper started to become his old self. He began eating again and gained his mobility back. And in a month or so, Trooper played and followed us around like the good ol’ days…with one exception…he did not bark at cars anymore!

That winter, on a snowy afternoon, I decided to get revenge. I grabbed a couple of medium-sized rocks and walked through our field to a culvert that ran under the road. I made two snowballs, with the rocks in the center, hid by the side of the culvert, and waited for Mr. Bush to make his daily trip past our house. In just a few minutes I saw the bullet-nosed grill of the blue Ford headed my way at its usual slow pace. I was the pitcher on the Little League team, and I was determined to throw a strike. Just as Lew crossed over the culvert, I let loose with a fastball…. WHAM…right in the middle of the car’s windshield. I hid inside the culvert tile and waited. Mr. Bush stopped his car in the middle of the road to look things over. I peeked over the concrete barrier. The windshield was shattered!

Lew got back in his car and drove back in the opposite direction. I ran like lightning through the field to my house. I didn’t know if Lew had seen me or not. My heart was pounding. I knew what Dad would do for punishment…two or three whacks with the belt. I never told my folks. I knew I had done a really dumb thing, especially since it wasn’t really Mr. Bush’s fault that Trooper had been injured that past summer day. I doubt that he even knew he had struck Trooper. People say revenge is sweet. It’s not. I felt guilty for a long time after that. Attending Sunday School can do that to a kid.

Mr. Bush passed away a few years later. Trooper lived for another five or six years. He developed a growth on his leg, likely cancer, and became very ill. Dad finally had the vet put him to sleep. Trooper was the best dog we ever owned.

A few years ago, at a Darlington High School alumni banquet, I spoke to John Bush, who is slightly older than me and is Lew Bush’s grandson. I told him the story of my ill-conceived, window-smashing revenge incident. Yep, I finally got that off my conscience. And Mr. Bush, if I am lucky enough to meet you up there in Heaven someday, and you are still driving that blue ’49 Ford…I promise to buy you a new windshield. And Trooper, I promise to bring you a slice of bologna.

– John “Butch” Dale is a retired teacher and County Sheriff. He has also been the librarian at Darlington the past 32 years, and is a well-known artist and author of local history.