My Wife and Dog-Killing Sisters
by Kaz Kozalak

Throughout my life, every dog I have ever owned has died. I used to think that having your dog die was just the “natural order” of things. I used to think that. Not anymore.

There are evil dog-killing forces in the world… You just have to be aware of them in order to recognize their existence. Some may scoff, but maybe they will believe as I do after you read my story of my wife and Dog-Killing Sisters.

I got my first dog when I was about seven years old. I’d wanted a dog and pestered my parents to get one. My parents were accommodating. I distinctly remember the circumstances of how I got my first dog.

It was a Sunday afternoon. A few towns over from where I lived was a dog rescue place called the Kindness Kennels. My father drove me there a little too early, as it had not opened up yet. There were no other cars in the parking lot. Within a few minutes, another car pulled up next to ours. The man had a dog in the car with him. He told us that he had to drop the dog off because his son had allergies from the dog. The dog was a sweet mixed-breed black and white female spaniel about a year old. We took the dog from him and got it for free. We drove off before the place ever opened and went home.

I loved that dog. We named her Penny. She would wait for me to come home from school some days and sit on the porch without being tied up.

Many years later, I got married at twenty-three years old, but I still had my dog Penny. After our marriage, my wife and I moved into an apartment in the lower half of my parents’ home. It was convenient for me to go to work and it was a hell of a lot nicer than any apartment I could afford.

A few months after my wife moved in with us, my childhood dog was dead. I didn’t give it too much thought (at the time) that there would be any connection with some of the women in my life and the death of my dogs… Not until my Dog-Killing Sisters proved that there are evil dog killing forces in the world.

I didn't have any dogs for a few years. My wife and I moved to two different states within two years. After my wife and I had settled into our new house, I decided it was time to get another dog. I wanted to go to the Humane Society to pick out a dog. It wasn’t to be.

One day, there was a knock on my front door. There were two little kids with a dog. They lived in the neighborhood and said that they had two dogs and couldn’t keep both. The dog was a sweet female mix of some undermined breed. I wasn’t sure I wanted it because I WANTED TO PICK MY OWN DOG, but… My wife wanted it, so I figured it was fate that I got this dog. We named her Lady.

Within a year of getting Lady, my wife announces to me that “our marriage stinks” and she wants a divorce. This was news to me, and that was the extent of her explanation. She was determined to find something better. So she abandoned me and our innocent two-year-old dog.

Sometimes, though, there is justice in the world. My first dog Penny died within a few months after my wife arrived. Then my wife abandons me and our innocent dog. Then… My wife gets punished for her evil acts.

About a year after our divorce, I heard that my wife had remarried. I went to the courthouse to check on the marriage license. The man she married was over thirty years older than she was, and my wife was less than thirty years old. I later found out that he was a rip-roaring alcoholic. Their marriage lasted a few months.

She divorced that dude really quick. Not long after, she married another dude with an atomic temper. (Good choice, honey.) I think that now my ex-wife wishes she were living in a more stable environment – like Iraq.

I figured this was her punishment for killing my first dog and running away from both me and our own dog. It was karma coming back to bite her in the ass. Sweet justice.

Lady and I lived alone together for many years. She eventually died of old age, but only because she never came in contact with my Dog-Killing Sisters.

After Lady's death, I wanted another dog. It was summer and a hot twenty-mile drive from my house to the Humane Society. On a whim, I called a boarding kennel that was about three miles from where I lived. I asked them if they might have any abandoned dogs that people had left there and never came back to pick up. They told me no, but that they did have a few dogs for a “no-kill” dog rescue organization. They had a nine-month-old Siberian Husky/Australian Shepherd mix available for adoption. I took a drive over there – and wanted that dog. She was beautiful. This dog had been waiting for adoption for over three months. I named her Daisy.

Daisy was so excited about being let out of a kennel that she broke her toe from running too fast in my back yard because she was free. Daisy was smart. She was so smart it was almost scary. In one day, I taught her how to scratch at the back door when she needed to go out or come back in. I also taught her to speak on command.

About five months after I got Daisy, my younger sister came to visit Daisy and me for the first time. The day my sister was leaving to go back home, Daisy had vomited earlier that morning. It was a Friday. By Sunday, Daisy was dead – at about a year-and-a-half old.

Daisy had contracted Parvovirus. This was a dog that had spent three months in a kennel exposed to who knows what. She’d had her shots. My sister comes to visit and Daisy dies of Parvo. It wasn't much longer after this that the lady who ran the no-kill dog rescue committed suicide and the no-kill rescue ceased operating.

You might think that was just bad luck. But let’s jump ahead ten years….

I was advised not to get another dog for at least six weeks after Daisy’s death, just to be sure that there was no active Parvovirus around the house.

I looked in the classified ads. I saw an ad for Siberian Husky puppies. I didn’t know if I really wanted a puppy or not, but I called the breeders. They told me that, in addition to the puppies, they had a nine-month-old left over from a previous litter. He had been sold as a puppy, but was returned for a refund because he cried too much. Anyone who has seen a Siberian Husky knows what a beautiful dog they are. The dog’s name was Buddy, and I got him at a discount because he was a leftover.

Unlike my Husky mix, Daisy, Buddy was a dumb as rocks – but that’s another story.

I had Buddy for over ten years. My younger sister had seen him many times, but my older sister and I were not on good terms and we hadn’t seen each other since the late 80’s.

In early 2000, my older sister announces she wants to come to visit me and do some sightseeing in Arizona. That sounded innocent enough. It was the second day my sister had been visiting, and she had just come in from a day of sightseeing, when… She gave Buddy some petting and, within ten minutes, Buddy had a stroke. Buddy was put to sleep the next morning.

I had two different dogs die at the time of a visit where one of my sisters had seen them for the very first time.

I have a new dog now. The next time either of my sisters comes to visit, I'm sending my dog to Alaska for safekeeping.

But wait… Why didn’t my boyhood dog die from my sisters? That’s because they were children hadn’t acquired their evil dog-killing powers yet. Where did they get their dog-killing powers? They got it from government. One of my sisters works for a federal agency while the other works for a public school system. The evil of government entered my sisters and subsequently killed my dogs. There is no other explanation.

Why did my childhood dog die shortly after my wife moved in? (No, my wife didn’t work for the government.) Well, my wife was just one mean and nasty bitch. There is no other explanation.

Sometimes I think about my first dog, Penny. I also think about how the Kindness Kennels got cheated out of an adoption fee that day forty years ago because we got her in the parking lot. I looked up the Kindness Kennels on the Internet not too long ago to send them a donation. They are no longer in business. The funny thing is, the Kindness Kennels were only a few miles from where my older sister now lives.