Welcome to The Boxer Dog Stories

Specs Dogs is a collection of boxer dog stories told from the eyes of Brix, the boxer dog. He is also known as the B-Stud. From these boxer stories, we learn of the joys and pains of puppy-hood to adult life. Along the way, boxer dog and owner learn to strengthen their human to canine bond thru training, playing and just being plain silly. Enjoy!

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Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Car Damaged!

Hey folks, it's been a while since the last update.  I felt bad for Dad so I've been trying to cheer him up the whole week and a half.  He's been on a bad luck streak.  Last week our car, our beloved Civic,  got smashed into.  I've never heard so much colourful language from Dad.

"What da f*ck!  Who da f*ck!  You mutha piece of f*ck!  How da f*ck...why da f*ck..."

After hearing Dad, I didn't dare ask him what the word f*ck meant.  Up to this day I still don't get what it means.

It was late Thursday night, around 9:30, when  we went to visit the Parcon pack.  Dad parked the car in front their house, on the side of the street, in front of the driveway.  The Parcon driveway was full that night.  We had only stayed for an hour when we returned to the car.  Dad and I walked together.  When he opened the door to let me jump in, I heard him cursing like their was no tomorrow.  Mom was still inside the house.

 "Dad what happened?  Ok just cool your briefs Dad."  I tried to calm him down but was scared at the same time.  By now, Mom had come out.
"OHHH sh*t!"  Mom yelled.  That's another word I don't know.  Mom ran back into the house to call the others to see.  Grandpa Parcon, Grandma Parcon and brother Parcon came to look.  Grandpa Parcon spoke first.
"I know it's number 20 (the house across the street).  Those guys.  Call the police."  Then brother Parcon began to speak.
"They reversed their car right into the bumper and didn't even turn their wheel.  What idiots!."

Dad knelt down to look at the damage.  The rear side bumper was cracked and scratched with horizontal marks.  We could barely make out the paint colour from the car that hit us.  The quarter panel was bent inwards about 2 inches.  The tail light was also cracked.  The damage, they estimated, to be upwards of $2000.

The next day Dad reported the accident to the collision center and also confronted the neighbours across the street. 

"Uh..no.  We don't have any damage to our cars.  Here, have a look.  We don't know anything about the accident.."  Figures. WIth no luck, the police report classified it as a fail to remain.  A couple days later brother Parcon said he saw the car that hit us.  The car had gone missing a few days and finally returned, with a new paint job to their bumper.  Dad checked it out, but had no hard evidence to link them to the crime scene.  (too much CSI)

So off to the body shop the Civic went and in came the rented car.  Dad wasn't happy again.  The rental car was a Dodge Caliber.

"At least give me something comparable."  Dad kept his comments to himself and also kept an open mind.  To be honest,  I liked the Caliber.  It was more roomy than the CIvic and I could look out the back window better. 

Dad's luck ran out again when the next day he noticed the windshield had a small crack in the corner.  It must have been a rock that had hit the windshield. 

"What da f*ck!  Who da f*ck!  You mutha piece of f*ck!  How da f*ck...why da f*ck..."  Here we god again.

"They say it comes in threes."  That's what Dad was told when he went to Speedy Glass to get it fixed.
"Let's just hope the third isn't a speeding ticket."  Dad replied.

So it's been over a week and Dad is finally just cheering up a little.  The bodyshop called him to let him know the car was ready.  I'll be sending you good vibes Dad.  Let's hope what goes around come around to the bastard that hit us!





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