My Dad had a tool chest full of elaborate metal devices. He used them to fix dishwashers, furnaces, and refrigerators out in the murky tropics of the suburbs. One time on a job he was in split level ranch, on the lower level, fixing a furnace. The homeowners Chihuahua was quite insistent in its belief that my father had no rightly business in the home and proceeded to give my Dad holy hell. Dad tried to nicely shoe it away with a pipe wrench and ‘accidentally’ caught the poor pup right between the eyes with said wrench, killing it instantly. Luckily the dog was small enough to fit into the bottom of Dad’s tool chest.
Whenever Dad would tell this story he would be laughing so hard he could hardly finish. Sometimes I would have to finish for him. “Boy I betcha they still wonder whatever happened to that dog.” Dad would be laughing so hard he could hardly breathe.
