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heading into the woods nearby.  Police searched for it, but not very hard.  My parents didn’t give the dog another thought.  The pastor met up with them at the hospital where Tommy was pronounced dead. 
    I couldn’t leave it at that, though.  That thing had just killed my brother in cold blood. Yes, it was just an animal and didn’t know better, but I didn’t care.  I knew the Bible, and the Bible called for an eye for an eye.  I hadn’t gone to the hospital with my parents.  They were too deeply in shock to make me go along.  Instead, I grabbed a butcher knife from our kitchen and headed out toward the woods.  It was getting dark by the time I reached them.  They were quiet and peaceful, but I knew something deadly was creeping around out there. 
    Slowly, I moved between the trees, keeping my eyes and ears open.  My footsteps breaking sticks were the only sounds at all.  I jumped at the fluttering of wings above me.  I must have scared some birds.  The woods were a place I didn’t venture to very often, so I was worried about getting lost if I went on for too long.  But my fears were unfounded.  After twenty minutes of searching, I heard it. 
    The dog growled at me from behind some trees maybe thirty feet away.  I slowly moved toward it.  I wasn’t going to run like Tommy did.  Running meant death, and there had been enough of that today.  After I’d gone about ten feet, it stepped out from behind the tree, moving toward me.  It was like a Wild West showdown, except it was just teeth, claws and a knife.  I gripped the knife tightly with my fingers as I got closer and closer.  I would take a step, then the dog, then me. 
    Finally the dog just started running toward me.  He must have thought I’d be an easy kill like my brother had been.  He lunged at me, knocking me off my feet.  The thing must have weighed a hundred pounds. At twelve years old, I wasn’t much more than that myself.  Its teeth were near my face, its hot breath that smelled like blood and flesh burning my nostrils.  I tried to push its nose away from me but it snapped at my hand.  I got it away just in time, as it made its move toward my neck.  I shifted and it sank its teeth into my shoulder.  Crying out in pain, I started to pull away as it dug them in deeper.   That only hurt worse, so I started to beat it on the side of the head with my free hand. My. My knife hand was pinned underneath me.
    That didn’t have any effect whatsoever.  Pain shot up my shoulder, through my neck and down my arm.  I tried to wiggle the knife free in that hand, but it hurt too much.  Moving only made the dog’s grip tighten further.  I pushed my shoulder toward it, moving into the bite.  This caused it to let go to readjust its grip.  That gave me the opening I needed to pull my free.  My arm was sore and throbbing with pain, but before the dog could bite down again, I thrust the knife into its abdomen.  It let out a howl as the knife went in.  Blood shot out, spraying my already blood-soaked hand. 
    It turned toward my face, blood and saliva running off its teeth and mouth.  The dog snarled and growled.  I knew it was about to go for my face or neck and this time it wouldn’t miss.  I rotated the knife in its stomach, twisting and turning it every which way.  It moved its head back a few inches, preparing to strike.  I pulled the knife free from its stomach.  The dog snapped toward my face, about to tear my throat out for sure.  Before it connected, I thrust the knife through its neck and pulled it free.  Hot blood sprayed my face as the dog yelped and slumped onto its side.
    I stood there with the dog at my feet. It twitched as the life oozed out of it.  I was totally soaked with blood.  I couldn’t tell which blood was mine and which was the dog’s.  The wound on its stomach was open so wide its entrails had spilled partially onto the ground.  I’d gutted the thing like a pig and I felt good.  I felt