Killing Animals

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by cpunk, Nov 8, 2005.

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  1. cpunk

    cpunk LE Moderator

    My wife's dog died the other day in somewhat spectacular fashion, having troughed a large amount of rat poison which some tw@t had put down in the environs of my mother in law's house. Actually, I for one won't be missing it: it was a small and yappy Cairn Terrier which was looking increasingly rough round the edges as the result of p1ssing off my somewhat larger and harder Bull terrier, which objected to having its scoff nicked etc etc. As it was pegging out, expelling large quantities of doggy blood from every orifice, my wife was very keen that I should do something to hasten it on its way but the alternatives - cricket bat or 12 bore - seemed a tad excessive, not least because the action was taking place in mother in law's kitchen. Instead, we called the vet but midway through the conversation the beast expired, which saved a few quid at least.

    However, the episode did remind me of a friend - a REME Major - who back in the days of BAOR was faced with the problem of his first posting back to the UK for 12 years and the realisation that his ickle canine companion was probably too old and knackered to survive quarantine. The solution that he came up with was to take the dog for it's favourite walk round the woods behind their MQ and then slot it with his .22 target pistol so that it would die happy. Off he set, and after half an hour or so of squirrel chasing and p1ssing against trees (the dog, not the REME bloke), he called the dog over, stroked it, gave it a biscuit, said goodbye and then put a round through it's head. He was expecting the target to fall when hit. Wrong. With a round through it's skull, the dog took off through the woods, howling like a banshee and spraying blood everywhere. Oh sh1t. He took off in pursuit and eventually caught up with the blood soaked mutt, hunkered down and whimpering in some bushes. He took a slightly different point of aim and put a second round into it's head. This knocked the dog over, but it immediately got up, barking madly, and took off again. This time, he spent an hour or so looking for it but couldn't find the fücker anywhere.

    By this stage he was, not unnaturally, feeling as guilty as an axe murderer and, hoping that the dog had expired relatively quickly, decided to go home and confess what had happened to his wife. When he got there, he found the dog lying in a pool of blood on the back doorstep, feebly wagging it's tail at him. Nice. The third round finally did the job.

    Anyone else have any amusing stories of killing much loved family pets?
  2. ugly

    ugly LE Moderator

    Not being a tight git, but this mate of mine had a very old cross labrador who to put it mildly should have gone to Doggie Valhalla many moons before. Poor old fella had liver failure and arthritis, the vet however said we can keep him going for a few more years yet (he was already 17) and my mate said, sorry but I'm not paying your mortgage to keep my dog in misery. A few days passed and the kids were briefed that poor old mutt was on his last legs, typically now they choose to care about him, not at 4 i the morning when hes whining to go out as hes crapped on your carpet and eaten the used kittie litter. The mutt was despatched one evening in the back garden with a silenced 22rf rifle, a repeater just in case. Doggy dropped and expired. Well done now to announce the fact, He didnt factor in the wailing of chilblains when they found out! Old fellah was disposed of by putting in a big skip at work. He told everyone at home that he was buried in the woods and even took a shovel and brought it back muddy as evidence.
    he had done this once before but that was in hot blood as wifes lab had bitten son No.2 on face and had to go. 2 rounds of 410 from trusty shot pistol to top of knapper. Apparently the dog was expecting it!
    Not nice but better than an £80 vet bill!
  3. Not really 'much loved pets' but..........

    Kosovo - Two infantiers were patrolling in Pristina on Op Mutley (12 bore vs Stray Dogs). They spied a likely target appear from behind a wall about 60m away. It was a bit of a long shot with the shotgun - but with SG shot - it went down first time. As they wandered closer, they noticed it was still moving, so they put another cartridge into it. The dog jerked a bit but still continued to crawl back behind the wall. They put 3 more shots into the dog but it still kept on moving towards the wall. It was only as they got nearer that they noticed the UN Dog Handler crouched behind the wall, with tears rolling down his face, trying to pull his Drug Search Dog back into cover......... oops!

    Bosnia - The camp was being plagued with stray dogs - so the Tp Comd referred up to his OC and asked for permission to expend a few rounds and get rid of some of the dogs... His OC, thinking it was only a few dogs and 1 round per dog, said yes. The Tp Comd had unfortunately been watching The Great Escape and the idea was born! They parked up a 4 tonner and spread scrap meat out of the back........ before long there were 50 or so dogs fighting over the meat 10 yds from the truck. Suddenly the tail gate dropped and 5 blokes with SA80 open up on full Auto!! - The Tp Comd had to explain where over 400rds went! Another ooops!

  4. OldSnowy

    OldSnowy LE Moderator Book Reviewer

    I must admit, having been brought up in the country where dogs are expected to earn their keep (cats and ferrets too, for that matter) I do not understand why it is considered sensible to pay a vet £££ to top a sick animal? When I was a kid, I was told that the old dogs had always 'died in their sleep'. Later, my old man told me that it was a very quick, .410" sleep. Quick, cheap and painless (unless you caught your finger in the break-action when reloading, of course).

    I am currnetly a firm believer in the "I'll take it to the Vet now, don't you come, it's too distressing" school. Then, off in the car to the woods, a quick whack with a Tool Adjusting (Fine), REME, 7lbs, and pop it into a hole or convenient skip. Got to be less distressing than having a bloody injection! I then tell the wife that the Vet has disposed of the body (any market for catgut or fur these days?) and keep the Vets' money in order to buy a decent bottle of scotch in the animal's memory. To be fair, I always offer to have the mutt/moggy stuffed, but the wife always declines - so it's her fault in a way.

    Also, my way is considerably cheaper than going to the Vet :)
  5. RTFQ


    The old 'final walk in the woods' for dogs is the best way, as long as it's done properly, with the respect due between man and beast.

    DO NOT suggest a similar solution to friends when their kids are sick however, it's distinctly unwelcome, especially when you pat the chickenpoxed child on his head and say "don't worry son, it'll be quick." In fact, anyone who needs a definition of 'batshit' for the arrsepedia should do this then observe the mother...
  6. ugly

    ugly LE Moderator

    A very warped friend of mine whilst in kelly's garden used to trap cats, the feral ones obtained from San Carlos settlement to keep the rats down which then became a real pest, in the swill bin by leaving the lid of during fire piquet. The captured cats would then be interrogated (E&E style) before earning their wings. One actually made the 7 jumps from the water tower but expired on the eigth. He was posthumously awarded his wings, shaved less feet, tip of tail and face. It was a SAS Cat after all. Said cat was laid to rest in the duty chefs w&nk pit whilst he was passed out. Apparently the screams could be heard in the settlement in the morning!
  7. Old man had "rescued" labrador from local keeper who was going to shoot it because it "had no nose for game" turns out it had a taste for human flesh and after two weeks of hell he accepted that even his canine training skills were no match for the hell hound. We were told that the dog had to be put down and all said our goodbyes before trotting off to school and to be fair we were all fairly keen to participate in a bit of revenge. so not upset in the slightest.

    Being a tight wad and too idle to dig a hole he trots off to work and asks the chaps installing new cable ducts round the site if they could spare a digger and a driver for ten minutes. So at lunch break man and digger go to bit of waste ground and are asked to dig a hole about "yea big". Old man trots off and returns with open can of dog food, dog, and 12 bore. Tosses can in hole, dog jumps in, and is followed by the contents of both barrels. Of course having missed the execution paragraph from the orders he turns roud to find the driver spraying his lunch over the steering wheel.

    Cue impromptu week long strike, a visit from plod that evening, and interview without coffee. Best bit was he had to fill in the hole by hand.
  8. ugly

    ugly LE Moderator

    I suppose it was a good idea at the time!
  9. Many Years Ago.......
    Whilst on TS rotation at Batus, Canada, the RA met troop would capture gophers and attach 2ft parachutes to them. They were launched on a 'spare' balloon and by means of an unwinder, sometimes made it safely back to earth. Occasionally things would go wrong and the poor gopher would end up in orbit...

    The folly of youth.
  10. Hadn't really thought about that, but now you mention it.......

    Sennybridge, end of platoon live attack and yours truly is armed with a dixy radio and is apparently "in charge". Of course as I was a fresh faced 2Lt we all know the truth about that one.

    At the end of the day I had to sign off the range and fill in the casualty form about the number of dead animals, so off we trot to dispatch the three sheep that are obviously wounded. Now one of the things I did know was that at 2" a 7.62 round is not going to expand or tumble or do very much in the way of producing an exit wound and I suggested we stand a little furher away. However as the regular NCOs attempting to dispatch said sheep were all ex Falklands "WTF did I know" After three rounds in the head one of the sheep decided it had had enough and got up and headed off on its three good legs. At this point I started to giggle which may have been tactless, but suggesting that we were not slotting POWs today was apparently going too far.

    Fortunately for some reason I had the only supply of live rounds 8O
  11. Last year in Cyprus my father in law had hit a stray cat in the car. However the poor moggy was just winged and by the way it was writhing around on the floor I guessed its spine or its hips had been bu**red! So out I hop thinking I will do the right thing and put the poor pussy out of its misery as there was no chance in hell of there being a local vet about.

    So up I stride, grab the twisting moggy and give the back of its neck good karate chop thinking that it would cleanly break its neck! ….Like feck the little bleeder managed to turn round and try an sink its nasty yellow teeth into my hand. Luckily for me I noticed a large piece of angle iron post jutting out of the ground. So I swung ol ginger puss towards the post at a great rate of knots hoping the blow would be a fatal one. ….TWANG went the post, THUDUP went the moggys head.

    Now imagine my surprise as the bloomin cat picked itself up and tried to walk! Admittedly in a sideways fashion. I’m now getting frustrated and also the in-laws are looking a little concerned as they now realise their darling daughter has married a Psycho cat killer. I finally managed to expire the poor cat by chocking it but even to this day im convinced the fecker played posom until I had gone and is now slinking crab fashion along the harbour of Girne.
  12. I know its the NAAFI and at the risk of sound a miserable tw@t, my dog does not have very long left and the stories related thus far have definitely put me off the DIY 'last walk in the woods' method of dispatch. I'll definitely be forking out for the vet as I am sure the mutt would, as would I, like to pass on in my sleep and she deserves this for her faithful service and loyalty to me and my family.

    And as this is such a public forum, I don’t think (me personally but what do I know) that tales of cruelty and dispatch of innocent creatures puts the rest of the military in a particularly good light.

    Any journos out there need to fill a couple of column inches? on

    .....and fcuk me if it wasn't started by a 'MOD'.........nice one.
  13. I'm not sure what sort of image I project to the world, but back in 92, a guy I barely knew, offered me £50 to off his grandmothers cat. Frankly, I would have accepted the commission, and executed the tatty moggy gratis, but the idea of being able to add "contract killer" to my resume tickled me.
    Unfortunately, my plan to batter it with a heavy duty Spear & Jackson shovel while it tucked into its scoff was quickly scuppered, as his addled, senile grandmother still loved the cat, while the rest of his family considered it a malevolent and spiteful nuisance. My brief therefore was to send the animal on its way without leaving any obvious evidence of trauma.
    Drowning was quickly discounted, as I just coudnt see myself spending an hour blow-drying a soggy feline before artfully arranging it in its basket to simulate that peaceful "died in its sleep" scene.
    Then the idea for a "final solution" came to me, I'd gas the fractious feline!
    So using its favourite cheese as bait, we managed to lure it into the garage, fire up his grandfathers classic Dolomite and sneak out, closing the door (and sealing its fate) behind us.
    An hour later the car stalled, and we opened up the garage to find "Tiddles" cleanly asphixiated. No mess, no fuss, an easy fifty quid and a heartwarming story to tell the grandchildren.
  14. Picture the Convoy house, late 1979. Young Convoy is in the back garden with Scotty, a much loved but mangy as fcuk Jack Russell. It's apparent to the young lad that his dog has seen better days. With a mug of tea in hand, Convoy's dad comes into the back garden and sit's on the step next to his son. He has a long look at Scotty hobbling around the garden, trying to focus on a bee, through his cataracts. The following conversation takes place.

    Dad - "He's looking very tired, isn't he son?"

    Convoy - "Yeah, but he'll be alright, won't he dad?"

    Dad (deep breath) "No, son. He won't. When a dog gets as old as Scotty is, they get really tired. They're usually in a lot of pain all the time."

    Convoy - "But what can we do?"

    Dad (deeper breath) "It's pretty hard to understand, son, but at times like this, you sometimes have to do something that seems mean, but is really a good thing."

    Convoy (alarmed and beginning to get upset) "What do you mean."

    Dad (bit teary himself) "Well, son, the best thing we can do is take him to see the vet. If the vet thinks he's alright we can bring him home."

    Convoy - "What if he doesn't?"

    Dad – “Well, he’ll have to put him down.”

    Convoy – (openly sobbing) “What do you mean?”

    Dad – “The vet will have to give Scotty an injection. It won’t hurt him at all. It’ll take all Scotty’s pain away and he can go to dog heaven.”

    Convoy – “You mean he’ll be dead?”

    Dad – “Yes, son.”

    Convoy – (heartbroken). “But I love him, I don’t want him to die.”

    Dad – Puts his big arm round me and takes a sip of his brew.

    “Listen, son. I know it’s really hard to take in, but it happens. We all love Scotty and we don’t want him to suffer. I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to the vets next week and if he has to put him to sleep, we’ll bring his little body back here. We’ll bury him at the bottom of the garden, just near the tree. We’ll put a little marker by the grave and you can write whatever you want on there, to remember him and tell everybody how you felt about him. After that, to take your mind off it, we’ll have a little party. You can have all your little friends over and you can have jelly and ice cream, and we’ll play party games. I’ll even let you stay up and watch the Sweeney.”

    Convoy – “CAN WE KILL HIM NOW, DAD?”
  15. Nothing to do with me, but a true story from a village in the next valley

    After repeated incedents of lambs being killed by free running dogs on the fells the farmer concerened issued full warning that any unaccompanied dogs seen on his land would be promptly shot.

    A week or so later afforementioned farmer spied a Yorkshire Terrier type dog running around in one of his fields.
    Having previously warned all the locals what would happen he promtly produced a folding .420 and shot the terrier

    much to his surprise, after obvoiusly hitting the dog it carried on scurrying off down the field, so as you would he shot the dog again.

    Now by this point the farmer must have been wondering why this small dog was still managing to keep moving at the same pace down the field, but never the less he reloaded and aimed to take a third shot........

    Only to hear the owner of the dog shouting at him not to shoot again :? The dogs owner was on the other side of the field wall furiously winding in the extendable dog lead with a dead terrier attatched...............