Home Page

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Chih-Weenie

Today, I cut dead wood out of the back yard's tree canopy and watered plants. Bella helped with the watering part by attacking the stream of water coming out of the hose, but it was frustrating work, because all she got was wet.

Some of the piles of trash we see at night are associated with homeless people who are there only in the day. This afternoon, I caught a glimpse of the man who reads religious pamphlets and smashes whiskey bottles under the 24th St. underpass. He was leaning back, drinking whiskey. I also saw a man, holding court with a bunch of people like Jabba the Hutt at another pile of trash on X Street.

Three nights ago, I saw a surly young woman ride past on a bicycle, park off the street, and then start removing the wheels. Always wary of bike theft, I began staring, and she said "What are you looking at?" She started saying more, but then Bella dragged me off.

Tonight, Bella and I were walking down the sidewalk, and we heard a woman shouting behind us. We turned around, and an unleashed small puppy was standing right behind us, wagging its tail, eager to play. The same surly young woman biked up, shouting at the puppy. "Shorty! Get back here!"

"Look at that!", I said, "A little Black Labrador puppy!" "No," she said, "Shorty is a Chih-Weenie." "A what?" I said. Exasperated - clearly she felt she was dealing with an idiot - the surly young woman rolled her eyes and shouted "A CHIH-WEENIE! SHORTY! COME ON!" They charged down the street and vanished around the corner. Shorty the Chih-Weenie reappeared for an instant, looked back longingly and hoping we'd catch up, then vanished again when summoned.

On the way back home, we saw a young man in olive green fatigues vanish in the distance around a building. There was a sign of mischief beside the building - a toppled outdoor ash tray and a broken sprinkler head. I wondered if that man had done this.

Suddenly, the young man was running towards us at full speed as if he had to pee real bad. He was about 30 years old and had a classic meth addict look. He looked at Bella, smiled, and with a toothless lisp said "Is that a Labrador? I had a Labrador named George." He then ran past us into the night.

No comments:

Post a Comment