There’s a family lives down the street, they come from overseas, I think
They have a big dog that’s maybe the meanest in town.
I know he’s killed other dogs and cats and children from his own family,
yet nobody in authority seems to want to face the job of putting it down.
Once it attacked it’s neighbor next door, tore up the yard, murdered several puppies there.
But when we expressed concern to the rude, snobby family one house over,
they said they did major money business with the dog’s people,
and it probably wouldn’t attack them, so they didn’t care.

I asked the stern, humorless family one more house down if they would try to help
But they said they sold a lot of stuff to the dog’s people too.
And they didn’t like us anyway, jealous of our success and home
So there wasn’t any way to get help from them that we could see to do.
There was no fence to keep in the dog, yet most of us agreed the animal was insane
And sooner or later it would kill again because it had succeeded for years so far.
Encouraged by not being put to sleep or taken away by animal control
and lack of action by others, it came over and defiantly pissed on my car.

Then it growled and barked a threat to attack my kids, which finally put me over the top
So I girded my loins, loaded my twelve-gauge and got ready to make a stand.
I knew I’d be chastised by neighbors, hated by PETA, and probably arrested by a cop.
But when the lives of my own are threatened and there’s a vicious mad dog on the loose,
somebody has to do something, take some action, get your head out of the sand.
For if nobody does and the dog runs free, happily killing in a manner most uncouth,
sooner or later everyone will finally complain and blame me because
I’m the biggest and strongest, and that’s God’s honest truth.

So I did what I had to, though with no pleasure, I shot the mean, savage creature
who had been a thorn in everyone’s side, creating terror for so many years.
Of course as expected, my detractors were livid with anger, but I really didn’t give a damn.
What I cared about, the bottom line, was relieving my family’s worst fears.
Someday, somewhere, the mad dog would act again, causing suffering, sorrow and pain,
killing the innocent because in our indifferent, complacent, self-centered big town,
many naive, soft and selfish neighbors hated me worse than they loved freedom and life.
So I reluctantly took the burden on and it cost me dearly, yet if I had to, I’d do it again.

Yes, I know, another vicious mad dog might show up on our street some day
But in the meantime the families here are safe and secure from THAT one
and children are not afraid at this moment in time to go out and play.
The world’s full of mad dogs, of course, a fact we all know too well
and we’ll never be rid of them all, it’s a dirty, endless job but when the rhetoric is finally done,
each one we remove, bit by bit, makes everyone’s lives a little less of a living hell.
So if you feel sorry for the dog named Saddam, or want to run around hating me, it’s fine.
You can do that, my neighbor, with a little less fear, because today I protected me and mine.