The Link REPOST: Rusty's Story Author: Do it for rusty Date: 11-27-01 18:26 I had my own horrible experience the last time the Buffs played down in Austin back in '97. Me and the wife and my neighbor and his wife are great long-time Buff fans and we decided to make the trip down to Austin for the game. We found Austin nice enough, and looked forward to a great day of tailgating and Big 12 football. We parked the RV together with a few other CU boosters who had driven down for the game, but mostly surrounded by Horn fans. We got there around 9 a.m. and broke out the beer and brats, and stoked up the barbecue. I'd brought my mutt Rusty, he was a 9-year-old Golden Retriever, a bit gimpy from arthritis but friendly as all heck whose favorite thing in the whole world was to go to football tailgaters. I'd dragged that dog all over the country - to Michigan and Nebraska in '94; to Wisconsin in '95 and never had any bad experience with Rusty - he was the type of dog that would melt even the hardest Husker, who'd he greet with his favorite whiff frisbee in mouth. Anyways, we were having a pretty good time at the tailgater, talking it up with other Buff fans and even breaking out some cold and icy ones for a few Horn fans who stopped by to chat and talk about the big game. It was mostly friendly stuff, except for one group of Horn fans in an old yellow school bus with back-to-back Longhorn and Confederate flags who were directly to the right of my RV. From the time they got there, I sensed there was trouble. There was six or seven of them, two of them apparently female. They were pretty loud and obnoxious from the beginning, blaring out what sounded like Lynard Skynard or worse. The seemed to have showed up drunk, and were drinking hard liquor, straight from the bottle. Soon after they got there, Rusty wandered on over and the biggest and meanest looking of the bunch (who they called Tiny), with a big Longhorn logo tatooed his forehead, starts chasing him off yelling "GET ON OUT HERE YA Gawdang Buffalo DOG!!!! Except he didn't say "dang". He apparently didn't like the fact that Rusty was wearing his favorite Buffalo doggie sweater. Anyways, I just gathered up Rusty and we stayed to ourselves with other Buff fans trying to keep as far from trouble as we could. Pretty soon it was time to go to the game, and I did what I always do with Rusty, I tied his teather to the RV, leaving him a bowl of water and some food. I've regretted that decision a thousand times since then, even though at the time I'd thought nothing of it. The trouble makers in the school bus by then were ignoring us, having been joined by other friends, and obviously intoxicated in the extreme. Of course we enjoyed the game, what with a Buff win and all, and found DKR to be an impressive stadium, even though the Horn fans were as placid as Buff fans usually are. As we walked from the stadium after the game and approached the RV I could see right away that something was wrong. The Buffalo awning attached to the RV and covering the picnic table had been knocked over. I ran up to the RV calling Rusty’s name and to my horror saw that Rusty wasn’t there. The only thing there was his leash and empty collar. I looked frantically around for old Rusty, calling his name and asking anyone who would listen if they’d seen an old Golden Retriever with a Buffalo sweater. No one had. I was nearly in tears when I heard laughter and barking behind me. I turned around to again face the Horns on the bus, who by then numbered 10-12 or so. They were laughing, hollering and barking. I gathered my courage and approached the group. Where’s my dog?? I demanded. All I got back was laughter and barking, and the big ugly one just took a big bite out the huge Turkey leg he had just grabbed off the barbeque, dripping sauce all over his dirty Ricky Williams jersey. “We ain’t seen no damn dog,” someone said, provoking more laughter and barking from the group. I was angry as hell, looking at each of them eye to eye, trying to see in their faces what they might have done with my Rusty. “Hey mister,” one of them finally said, “you hungry?” “Want something to eat?” I turned to look at the Hornfan minding the grill. “We were doggone hungry, so we cooked something up!” The whole group burst into howling laughter at that point, more than one spitting up food or liquor, bowled over and slapping each other on their backs. It was only then I realized where my Rusty had gone. That wasn’t no turkey leg that Tiny was eating. “You ate Rusty,” I said to the Horn fans. Uttering that awful truth only sent the Horns into further laughter, and I did the only thing I could do. I turned around and walked back to the RV. I told the wife that Rusty was gone and there wasn’t no point in looking for him. She could see I was upset and started to protest but then looked in my eyes and saw that it was true and that was that. Ever since that trip to Austin, I havn’t much liked Horn fans. Each Saturday when I hear the Football scores over at Folsom, or on the radio, I take special pleasure when Texas is at the losing end. In August, I finally got me a new dog, a retriever, just a pup, who we named Rusty II. He’s a great dog and loves tailgating, though he can never replace old Rusty. This summer at the new Flatirons Mall, me and the wife ran into a group of CU football players. Marcus was there, and I think that Joey Johnson kid was too (he’s from Texas). I told them about Rusty and they practically cried. Most of them had dogs as kids, and didn’t have words bad enough for the kind of fans that would eat dog. I told them that I had moved on, not one to hold grudges or to be hateful, even for such an awful thing. But I did ask them one thing. When you go into Austin this year, could you do old Rusty a favor? Beat those Horns. Marcus told me, “we’ll win for Rusty.” I hope they do too. Damn dog eaters.
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