The Hole I Dug

Content Warning: Graphic emotional content, animal death, and child abuse.

So back when we lived in Zimmerman, we got this Great Dane puppy named Luna. I think immediately afterwards my Adoptive Mother and Step Dad regretted getting a dog and instead delegated the task of taking care of her onto me. So every morning before I left for school, I would take her out, feed her, give her water and attention before putting her in her kennel and going to school. She wasn't much of a listener, but I was 11 and she was a puppy, so who am I to care.

She comes with us when we move to the farm in Milaca. She was sort of a problem dog, getting off of her chain a few times (she had a very big chain attached to a stake that we would put her on when we were working outside). My uncle had his own dog, and he attacked her twice after she had escaped from her chain both times. The second time was bad enough to warrant stitches for her, and my Step Dad told his uncle that he was going to have to put down his dog. To which his uncle was upset with but understood.

So out to the pasture my Step Dad and his uncle’s dog go. My Step Dad comes back a little while later. (subtle foreshadowing)

Luna is just over a year old at this point. I believe it was April?

Her and I are kind of just lounging on the couch in the living room. I'm half asleep, she's curled up there trying to sleep as well. My youngest brother walks up to Luna with a popped balloon in his mouth and just sort of blows it at her. It makes this loud "ahh" noise and she immediately lunges towards it, nipping him right below his eye.

He starts screaming and my Adoptive Mother immediately rushes to her little baby's rescue (this kid is like 8 years old and she treats him like a toddler), yelling at me saying it's my fault for not preventing the dog from attacking him and then rushes him to the clinic to get him checked out. They toss a bandaid on it and send him home. Literally no wound.

My Adoptive Mother calls me on her way home. I don't remember the conversation word for word but she's going on about "Go bury a hole, you should have done better, we're putting her down."

I'm in no place to tell them no. These are the same people who have hit and beat and threatened to kill me for years at this point already. So I grab a shovel and walk a half mile out into the cattle pasture and start digging a hole, not so far from where the other dog was buried the fall beforehand.

I for one am spending the entire time sobbing my eyes out because I already know what's going to happen. I was a very socially awkward kid growing up and this dog was essentially my best friend.

She gets home and walks out to the pasture and chastises me.
"This hole isn't fucking deep enough, what's taking you so long?"
Then she walks back into the house.

It's worth mentioning that my Step Dad is currently at work. It’s probably 1 or 2 in the afternoon at this point and he gets off around five-ish.

So I keep digging. The hole seems big enough to me at some point. Luna is a Great Dane, so she's fairly large for her age. Just over a year old and more than 60 lbs. Could pull me around with ease, as she has multiple times before.

When I think it’s enough, I head back inside. Instead of her usual rambunctious self, Luna is very mellow. She follows me to my room and just lays there on my bed. I spend the next however long with my face buried in her bawling some more.

What gets me even now is just how calm she was. She was always extremely hyper, but for the rest of this day she was absolutely the opposite.

My Step Dad gets home. First thing he does is head downstairs and grab his rifle from the safe. Grabs Luna by her collar and drags her outside. I go out too but don’t follow as he starts pulling her towards the pasture.

He says something like,
"Get over here,"
to which I say,
"No."
He then shouts back,
"Get the fuck over here or you'll be buried next to her."

What the fuck is 12-year-old me supposed to do?

I follow him. We get to the hole in the pasture. My Adoptive Mother is there too.

He tells Luna to stay and lets go of her collar. I turn around.
He tells me I have to watch.
I told him no again and again and again and all he did was yell at me.

So eventually I did turn around.
He aimed the gun at her head and pulled the trigger.
She dropped immediately and let out that death groan you hear when people take their last breath.
He pulls the trigger again; I presume for safe measure.
She’s on the ground now. Two holes in her head. Bleeding a bit.

He didn’t shoot her right next to the hole, it was about 15 or so feet away.
But he and my Adoptive Mother start heading back inside.
They told me to bury her.

I remember vividly watching them walk towards the exit of the pasture just casually talking about how their days went and laughing and whatnot. Like nothing at all had happened. As if they didn’t just shoot the dog they made ME take care of for over a YEAR.

I have to drag her body into the hole.
Icing on the cake?
It’s too shallow.

I get her into the hole and her nose still peeks up a little. I try my best to bury what I can. Eventually her entire body is covered under a mound.

Then I go back inside.
My family is eating pizza.

"Grab a plate."
... "I'm not hungry."
"I said grab a fucking plate."
So I grab a plate.
I eat.
I go down to my room.
I cry.
I cry and cry and cry.
I look at pictures of her that I had on my small digital camera.

Probably the worst thing that happened to me on that farm.
If ever.

I can't even bottle up my emotions right now as I write about it.

So before you speak on someone else’s life, think twice.

You don’t know what they’ve had to bury.
You don’t know what it took for them to show up today like nothing happened.
You don’t know if they had to dig a grave with tears in their eyes while the people who were supposed to love them laughed over dinner.

Everyone’s carrying something.
Not all scars bleed. Not all pain screams.

So choose your words like you’re talking to someone who’s barely holding it together; because sometimes, they are.
And sometimes, they’re just like me.

Happy men's mental health month.

Published 20:21 6/20/2025