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Pets & Animal Discussions Man of us have furry (or other) loved ones at home with us. Please use this forum to talk about anything and everything relating to them, hobbies relating to them, etc.

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Old 09-29-2019, 11:36 AM
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Default The Misadventures Of Streaker Doodle & The California Curse

]"California, rest in peace, Simultaneous release
California, show your teeth, She's my priestess
I'm your priest”[/u][/u]
Dani California by The Red Hot Chili Peppers[/u]

He was the most ferocious dog I’ve ever seen in my life and I’ve been around a bunch of em’ in my 58+ years…..Streaker Doodle, may you rest in peace.
Maurice Carver was a breeder and somewhat of a legend among pit bull lovers and the crowd that fought dogs for money. He was born in Arkansas and died a few moons back down in San Antonio. Streaker Doodle was a Maurice Carver pit bull. The runt of the litter, brindle in color and a mere 45 lbs., but considered to be the fiercest of the litter of pups thrown somewhere in the Hill Country of Texas in the early 1980s. He was killed by another pit in a vineyard situated in Windsor, California named Shotgun, a Stafford Shire pit bull that weighed 80 lbs.… The vineyard was his territory and as fate would have it, Streaker would die doing what he was born and bred to do, fighting. He was a little over 2 years old when he died sometime in latter part of 1983 or the early part of 1984.
Streaker was my older brother’s dog and when I first came to know him, he was chained up outside of a house trailer in Combine, TX. I don’t know the story on how older brother came about obtaining Streaker, but as I understand the story, it was a gift from a friend or associate. He was good around children, but among strangers and especially male dogs, he was a fearless land shark. The strength of his jaws was beyond belief when looking at the soup bones or larger bones of cattle that he’d pulverize within a few hours.

Older brother, Streaker and I arrived in Northern California on Halloween of 1983 after driving there from the DFW area of Texas in a 1979 Z-28 I owned at the time. By March of 1984, the only one who survived that venture was me. Streaker was killed in dog fight. Older Brother was about to be apprehended for a really bad decision he made which resulted in a 17-LIFE sentence he’s yet to be released from prison for some 37 years later. The Z-28 which was stolen in Santa Rosa with the rings burnt up, the wiring underneath the dash torn to pieces and then later found by DMV in Cali. It finally made its way back to DFW a year or so later when my Dad went out there to retrieve it and see older brother in Sonoma County Jail before giving it back to the dealership from whom I’d bought it and making car payments on.

Sometimes, I look back on the time spent in Northern California and about the only soul I know of who was on the same path was I was, was Streaker. Neither one of us knew that California would show her teeth. I went there with “someone told me there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair” going through my mind while listening & remembering what Led Zeppelin sang of in “Going To California”. Streaker was much the same…..he needed a girlfriend, too. Sadly, he never found one that I know of. I don’t say this to be crude or indifferent in recalling the misadventures of Streaker Doodle, but the one memory that stands out the most about him is when he raped another male dog (neutered English bulldog) there at the vineyard in Windsor. The English bulldog was older and bigger, but every time he’d try to get away from Streaker, Streaker would bite him on the back of the head and neck to keep him still. It was god awful to witness. Older brother, the victim’s owner and I were standing outside when it happened. The victim’s owner was afraid of older brother and definitely apprehensive about chastising or stopping Streaker from doing anything other than what Streaker wanted to do. Older brother thought the assault was quite amusing and laughed as it took place. I asked him while all this happend

“Are you gonna stand there and let him do that sh#t, man? Stop him!!!”
“You wanna stop him? Go ahead, I ain’t stickin’ my hands down there to get bit off. If you wanna try then, go ahead.”

So…….I did what I did in many situations during that time & place, I shook my head in disbelief and walked away not knowing what to do. On the Spiritual plane, the laws of karma are no stranger to anyone or anything. I truly believe that the reason why Streaker was killed in that vineyard by another pit bull had to do with this one incident. Yeah, he was just a dog, but in the time spent in California he attacked a German Shepard, a Doberman Pincher, a Labrador Retriever, a next door neighbor who walked in the house without knocking and a friend who made the mistake of reaching down to pet him whereby Streaker literally tore the entire sleeve out of her leather jacket in a matter of a few seconds.

Still, I loved him for all his faults because I knew much of his misfortune was not his fault. Perhaps the saddest memory and maybe an even sadder premonition around Christmas of 1983. We had been living up the coast in a house located in Point Arena, CA. What started out as a short trip to Monte Rio there on the Russian river without Streaker with the idea of being back at the house in Point Arena that night, turned into 3 days. We’d caught a ride from somebody heading that way and left him in the house with no food, the lights off due to the electric bill not being paid and a pan of water. Monte Rio is almost 70 miles away from Point Arena. We were into shooting meth and dropping acid to enhance the effect in those days and it’s no wonder that we forgot about him. At one point I said to Older Brother:
“What are we gonna do about Streaker? He ain’t been fed or looked after in 3 days now. “
“Hmm……I don’t know, man.”
So, I took it upon myself to hitch hike back to Point Arena. It was a hard march, too. I got there in one day, but what started out at the crack of dawn didn’t end until just as the sun was starting to go down. I had these brown, kangaroo, Tony Lama cowboy boots I wore all the time and I’m here to tell ya…..these boots may be made for walking, but they sure as hell are not made for hitch hiking down Hwy 1 on the coast of California. I had blisters on top of my blisters all over my feet. By the time I reached the front door of the house, I was limping and my feet were so swollen I couldn’t get my boots off at first. I had to wait awhile.

Upon opening the door, Streaker lept into my arms and was so excited, horrified and glad to see me…..he actually pee’ed himself and me. I looked over to my right and saw where he’d ripped open a 50 lbs. bag of flour against the wall and that was all he’d had to eat. His pan of water was dry and it was a heart breaking moment for us both. I actually got down on my knees and starting crying as I held him in my arms. We had both headed west to do with California dreaming, but unfortunately we were caught up just then in the midst of a California curse that would ultimately kill one of us and send the other one packing back to Texas with the forewarning from the state… don’t ever come back here again, if you know what’s best. It just then, at this moment while holding Streaker in my arms as we both wept due to the hardships of our misfortunes that I knew in a strange sort of way it was time to get out…….what resources, support, so called loyal friendship or brotherhood, was nothing more than a drug induced illusion held together by hollow promises made by those bent on creating evil and inciting harm. I went there looking for love and about all I managed to do was get into more god d#mn trouble in a mere 5 months than you could shake a stick at.
While California showed its teeth in California like fashion by taking Streaker’s life and forever condemning older brother to a life sentence, she proved to be a Priestess in my life, personally. The women I met in northern California were the ones that saved me, loved me, fed me, corrected me and steered me clear of harm’s way long enough for me to get out and come back home. Country, Tripper, Kringles, Terry, Sheila, Vonnie and a few others were the goddesses….priestesses….living angels and saviors that kept me alive, from the grasp of the reaper and out of the grave yard. Yep…..there’s something special about those California gals. Some of them can see completely through you. In the blink of an eye they can know or foretell what will happen for years to come. Were it not for them, I wouldn’t be here now.

Such is the sad story of man’s best friend and another male dog’s worst enemy…….Streaker Doodle.
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Old 09-29-2019, 12:04 PM
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You three were quite the trio.

Even the "worst" dog has something to teach us, lead us to or away from and always leaves an impression.

When I was small, my parents would visit an older woman that lived in their previous neighborhood. Her house was dark and sticky-- she chain smoked as if cigarettes contained the very air she needed to live. Margaret. She had a tiny Yorkie that fit her tiny frame and tiny house. It all seemed like it belonged together. That dog hated me. It bit me more than once and without provocation. I look back now and if I had been that dog, living in a tiny, dark and sticky house I may have bit the people that came in and then left me there, too.
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Old 09-29-2019, 01:32 PM
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Some dogs like Streaker are high maintenance pets. You gotta watch them. You leave any dog alone for days at a time with no food and/or little water. He was half starved the entire time we were there. Hell, I was too for that matter, but at least I could fend for myself knowing where to go and what to do. For Streaker, it wasn't like that. He lived a hard life, too hard. It may be because of him that I love animals so much and am mindful of the abuses they suffer through in this life and this world.
A biting Yorkie, huh? Yes, those little dogs can be the meanest if one is not careful. You're too sweet to bite, though. Bad dog!!!!
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Old 09-30-2019, 10:58 AM
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My ex and I had two dogs. Pit mixes. one? dang that was a dog. markings like a dobie, but he supposedly was pit/aussie mix.
He loved loved loved my ex. I was tolerated.

We lost him due to a car hit. Hub (at the time) thru a frisbee and drifted off to the street. He got hit by a car in petaluma.
That dog was a riot. The sun rose and set with my hub, but I was able to get him to *talk* to me at feeding time.
the dog wouldl dive into a swimming pool to get keys my hub tossed in there to see if he would get him.
Have some really good memories (and some really sad ones too) over that dog.
Rip Sinbad.


the other dog? Samson.
I think Pit/lab mix. He was a douche bag.


Now a days? I stick to the one dog i have now. Love that shit bird so much. Border collie. Last of the litter, and from what Ive been told.......prolly the best. Sweet sweet dog. PITA, but great. smart. But needy. lol.
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Old 10-04-2019, 03:31 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by sidewalker View Post
My ex and I had two dogs. Pit mixes. one? dang that was a dog. markings like a dobie, but he supposedly was pit/aussie mix.
He loved loved loved my ex. I was tolerated.

We lost him due to a car hit. Hub (at the time) thru a frisbee and drifted off to the street. He got hit by a car in petaluma.
That dog was a riot. The sun rose and set with my hub, but I was able to get him to *talk* to me at feeding time.
the dog wouldl dive into a swimming pool to get keys my hub tossed in there to see if he would get him.
Have some really good memories (and some really sad ones too) over that dog.
Rip Sinbad.
Petaluma, huh? That name rings a bell. That's up that way kinda sorta where I was at. Yes...dogs are something special....for better or worse. They have some qualities that beyond human in terms of admiration and vigilance. I love dogs.

the other dog? Samson.
I think Pit/lab mix. He was a douche bag.


Now a days? I stick to the one dog i have now. Love that shit bird so much. Border collie. Last of the litter, and from what Ive been told.......prolly the best. Sweet sweet dog. PITA, but great. smart. But needy. lol.
Petaluma, huh? That name rings a bell. That's up that way kinda sorta where I was at. Yes...dogs are something special....for better or worse. They have some qualities that beyond human in terms of admiration and vigilance. I love dogs.
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