It has always been said that a man's best friend is his dog. And I have long observed that the same situation pertains as to a woman, a girl or indeed to a boy. Compared to twenty years ago, dogs are now not seen nearly so much on the streets. Back in those days our surroundings were surely becoming a dog's world. That situation certainly came into play in both rural and urban Ireland. Remember back then you would regularly witness up to maybe six or sometimes more dogs of various descriptions heading together along our highways with definite positive intent. They were definitely going somewhere with a plan. Of course they didn't tell any of us what that plan was. Unfortunately the poor dogs found it hard to disguise themselves while out on their mission.

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I remember that look on their faces. All they could think of while in that mode was the future of that plan to hand. The dogs together were of one mind. The mission had to be accomplished come what may. It was obvious to us mortals that there must have been some particular pecking order in their ranks. But who of us could decipher what that was. I did sometimes witness that the packs of dogs that roamed our streets actually really did only have innocent intentions whilst on their outing. Just heading out and about on a particular route for a bit of distraction from sitting at home alone bored stiff or even asleep all day. A fit dog must be regularly be up and about not just sitting on the same small piece of turf trying to get more out of that week old bone.

Then there were those "other" dogs who got up to more serious business. How often did we hear of packs of fierce dogs appearing from no one knew where and involving themselves in the attack and slaughter of numerous harmless sheep in a poor farmer's herd suddenly at nighttime. The farmer would check his herd at night and all was fine, but in the early morning there may be twenty or more lying injured or dead about his fields. What number of wolves had to be there in the otherwise quiet of night to carry out such slaughter? Eventually a watchful farmer would catch the situation unfolding. Having spot checked his herd on numerous occasions he unexpectedly arrives as the wild pack is in operation of their mission. The attacking and killing of these particular sheep. Maybe ten dogs from many miles away who traveled together in the quiet, and under the cover of the darkness of the night.

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Bam, bam, bam, goes the shotgun. Bam, bam, goes the anxious, angry farmer, owner of the ailing shocked herd of sheep. Yelp, yelp go the startled and now frightened pack of hungry dogs. Too late for them or at least some of them as a number of them lie in the midst of their own prey in similar agony of injury to their bodies inflicted by the over excited small poor farmer who was the first local to actually observe the wanton brutality of the wild marauding dogs.