Sunday, July 17, 2005
Basher Joins The Drug War
I just got the mutt to quit crapping in the neighbors' yard; they were complaining because he'd leave a stack bigger than a Hollywood Chihuahua. He behaves only by constant reinforcement, negative and positive. He'd still do it if left on his own, but I watch him.
There's a "no man's land" between houses in the next neighborhood where people pass through into my neighbor's yard on their way to the local drug dealer's place on down the street. Robert, the neighbor, suggested that the "trail" across his lawn would be an ideal place for Basher to do his business. When Robert leaves tools out, or much of anything else of value, they disappear. So, every once in a while, usually at Basher the dog's 2 a.m. constitutional, I walk him over to the trail. He likes the trail. He hates tall grass around his rear end when he's unloading. Actually, the trail was "mined" by him in three places since friday.
Apparently the cops are tired of our drug dealer, too. He's been in business a LONG time, but lately the word is out that he's paying bribes to be warned of impending raids, and that has some badge-toters angry. I found out they've been parking at each end of our street and checking IDs of people coming in and going out late at night. Fine by me.
Mr. Dealer, realizing his goose is cooked if he stays here, is packing up to move. He won't say where. I told him the Sheriff's Department is sure going to miss him. Some of the neighbors are, too. He's polite, well-spoken. One old wag on the street tells people that I'm the drug dealer, even though I've been clean and sober for 25 years. But I have long hair, and Mr. Dealer doesn't.
Robert's wife, who is a tough, hard-talking mother of three genuine Florida Cracker Redneck boys and one girl, told me that she was out early this morning when a young fellow came out of the trail walking a very expensive bicycle and complaining that her dog shouldn't be using the pathway for a bathroom.
She told him that HE had no business on the trail, it was private property, and she didn't have a dog. They had a chat about who DID have a dog, and all she'd tell him is that the neighborhood dogs liked her, and passed through her yard occasionally. He asked to use a water hose to clean off his bicycle, and she said sorry, my water's cut off. As he was walking the bike on down the street, she saw what had set him off: there was some items on his back that had been thrown off the rear tire. The day before, they'd been Pedigree dog food.
I had to promise Basher the dog would re-mine the trail today and tonight.
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