5 Cold Days & Nights

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 1: Chapter 17]

Subject: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 5:51 PM

This IS unusual, not seeing them for so long, considering the nasty weather. Such constant exposure to this cold, even with their little sweaters, can kill them. They have tiny bodies and thus cannot maintain inner warmth too well. By the time they show signs of harm, it’s sometimes too late. I can haunt my mind with all sorts of horrid conjectures, but worrying is now a part of my past. So I trust they are all doing perfectly well and keeping warm for the nonce. Maybe they’re staying indoors somewhere, such as temporary shelter with someone he knows with a roof over their head. One can only send blessings their way.

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 6:18 PM

Well, I’m worried, even if you ain’t! Damn!!

I have finally, and recently, learned a most valuable lesson: NEVER WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING! FAITH IS MORE POWERFUL!

What the Phantoms of Worriment attempt to haunt me with are, for examples:

  • Deek is now in the hospital or jail, and his dogs have been impounded. I will never see them again.
  • Deek actually DID give them away, probably in exchange for what to him is a considerable sum…say, $400. Which, nonetheless, he’ll blow away in a quick two days, then grieve enormously over the loss of Taco & Wiley for the rest of his life. Of course, he’ll never bother to see me again, for fear of condemnation. (But in fact, if that is what he’s done, and DOES show up, I’d tell him that God will find some way to bring the little darlin’s back to us, and that he should keep that faith close to his heart while doing what he CAN do, to aid their return.)
  • Deek died on the streets from a meth overdose (it was mixed with Oxycontin) or was killed in his sleep. The doggies are stranded, alone and in grief and terrified. And cold and hungry. Or they’ve been absconded by some local dealers who will train them to fight for money.
  • My sweet brindlekin had the shit kicked out of them by some homeless nut job or a crazy drunk…or were severely injured in some other way, such as being run over.
  • Some mean (or well-meaning but clueless) resident reported them for not having rabies licenses, and they were taken to the pound.

I could go on, Tara, but I’ll stop here. If I drown myself in worry, I have not learned a most valuable lesson that I’ve been SHOWN to be true, many times over, these past several weeks. So many GOOD things have been flowing my way since late October, and continue to do so. Obviously, my deep love for these canines (and theirs for me) has TRIGGERED stunning changes in my life for the better. Which have EVERYTHING to do with faith, and its power to overcome ALL odds, not just some, or even many. In other words:

It’s as if God or one of His Messengers has appeared before this trembling soul and He spoke:

“Yours is not the story of one whose lover is sent off to war and dies on the battlefield, but one whose lover returns intact, victorious and brimming with immense gratitude, joy and reverence for your fidelity over such a painful, heart-breaking, long period of time. Do not grieve about Deek, the dogs, or anything else for that matter. I have all situations under my absolute command, and promise you this: that nothing but good things will come to you from this moment forward. To worry now would be the act of a coward, not of the hero you most certainly are! Now, I have other people of broken spirit I must tend to and heal. But rest assuredly, knowing that one or more of my guardians shall always remain by your side, and see to it that Deek and the doggies whom you call brindlekin will be returned to you in but a brief time from now, and in great health and spirit. Especially Deek, who has dumped o’ermuch anxiety in your life for way too long, in spite of your saintly forbearance. I will correct him on that promptly, certainly before he shows up.”

Meanwhile, I continue to compose my spectacular tales that will change the world in the profoundest, most loving ways possible. It’s the least I can do.

  • Ezekiel J. Krahlin (gay prophet and honorary crew member of Futurama’s interstellar rocket ship delivery service)

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 6:30 PM


No less than five minutes after posting that missive to you, about faith and divine intervention and reassurance, does Deek call to me from across the intersection. He looks in bad shape, but nothing out of the ordinary, as he does appear a wreck now and then. How much of what he told me is true, I just don’t know. However, I suspect it’s all an act…on the angelic level no less…as I’ve already surmised in previous missives, which are now incorporated into my most recent Brindlekin chapters. In short:

Deek said he and the dogs were badly beaten, he’s sick and bleeding and sleeping in his feces, and no one wants to help him, he’s gonna die in a week, and so on. I saw no sign of harm to him or the doggies, much to my relief. He persisted in blaming me for their biting people and acting all out of control. “They’ve never been like that before YOU started having them over. These are not the dogs I had when I got them!”

“I don’t know, Zeke,” he admonished, “if I should trust you any more with my dogs! They act all different after you have them over.”

So I went into my famous preacher mode and told him how the devil hates friendships, and he’s working overtime to break up ours. That the bad thoughts he has about me are Satan’s words, and he shouldn’t fall for that, he should know better, after all these years of my helping him, and so many months assisting with the care and safety of Wiley & Taco. The poor little angels were just standing around leashed to a small shopping cart, you know, the kind that’s made out of thick metal wires about four feet high with two wheels on ’em that little old ladies push around in shopping marts. Get this: there was NOTHING in it, because Deek was just robbed last night (or so he says).

Anyway, the pups were glad to see me, and appeared as stable, kind and happy as usual. I felt their fur to see if they were wet, but nope, they were not. A few people came up to them and said “what cute dogs,” and pet them. Neither Taco nor Wiley were aggressive or nervous in any way whatsoever. They were friendly and minded their manners like the brave little saints they are!

Well, Deek gave me a very hard time about allowing me to take the canines hovel. Several times I made it clear he needs to tend to his own injuries, and the dogs need safe, warm shelter. This is an emergency, and he needs to trust me, and trust God through me. During this argument some nice folks who know Deek came up and asked how he was, and offered their help. (I don’t mean they showed up as a group, but that four different decent souls showed up one by one within minutes of each other, and departed before the next one arrived.) I explained to each of them he needs to let me care for the doggies for a day or two, so he can get back up on his feet. That he hit bottom and is in a bad way, and sorely needs a leg up right now, even if it’s just a kind word. One person with a roof over his head invited Deek to his pad, for warmth, company and a nice, hot meal. But Deek just said thanks, maybe later.

“Why not, Deek?” I asked with lowered arms outstretched and both palms up. “I’ll take good care of the dogs, you know I always do. And you, too, need to get off the streets, even for a little while!”

But he persisted in making all sorts of false accusations against me, so I kept reasoning with him.

“Oh c’mon, Deek,” I retorted, “That’s not true, I am not to blame, I take absolute, loving care of them, they never attack or bite when they’re with me. Maybe you should stop getting angry at them, as that just makes them wanna be rebellious, and fear you.”

He continued to resist, so that fellow gave him his address and phone number, and went on his way. Few minutes later, a friendly, big black dude by name of Nathaniel Wilson, who knows Deek also gave him solace and commencent an excellent exchange of words with him. And that’s when Deek began to smile, thank god…and spoke back in mutual whatever-it-was-they-talked-about.

Eventually, he asked me to watch over the brindlekin, after I return with a tall cup of A&W Diet Root Beer and two “rags” (meaning bandanas). Because he needs them in order to enter places like walk-in clinics and other emergency or supportive services.

And what did I just tell, Tara? That God told me they’d be back very soon, and he’d make sure that Deek would stop his insults. Well, the second part was only somewhat true, but a tremendous improvement in light of his usual snarkiness. At first I wondered if the Good Gay Lord’s angels messed him up Mafia style, so he finally show some respect. But I don’t think that’s the case at all. Here’s my take on the whole matter:

It’s an act, all contrived and scripted for my benefit, that I play the brave defender of doggies and the homeless, and become the hero of the play. That, my sister in spirit, can mean only one thing:

Deek is an angel, too, acting out his role, and very much in character.

I left him chatting merrily with Mr. Wilson as I rushed the mutts homeward…and boy did they love visiting again, how in wild, gleeful abandon they chased each other up and down the hallway, then pounced upon and burrowed like crazy atop those two fluffy sleeping bags! They are now quieted down, curled up and snoozing right here beside me. And I just looked out the window to see that Deek was no longer across the street at that corner, chatting with Nathaniel or any other kind fellow who came along. I hope he is in someone’s comfortable abode (or at least a tent) right now…either recuperating from a terrible ordeal, or (as I believe is more likely) laughing their asses off and back on again many times over, about how Deek pulled off his latest “i’m gonna fuck with Zeke again” prank. All I can say to THAT is:

This so-called Age of Aquarius sure has started off with one really weird opening act!

Yours in Cthulhu (a.k.a. “Flying Spaghetti Monster”),

  • Zeke

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 2, 2021 5:51 PM


They will die out there, they’re little sweet creatures exposed too much to all the chaos and nasty weather on the streets. Once Deek returns, I will have to confront him on this. If he makes a stink, I’ll threaten to have him arrested for animal abuse. But hopefully, he’ll accept that I’ll be taking GOOD care of them, while he gets his act together and finds a decent roof over his head. I can NOT, in good conscience, turn them back into the steets. Several times in the past two months, Wiley has come running back to me, making it all too clear she’s not happy out there. Taco, however, is more accepting of his situation, but sure as hell makes a rotten summer vacation place, he is JUST as susceptible to the sling and arrows of being a homeless little pup.

I have twice seen Deek shove Wiley off a ledge abruptly, in anger. Not TOO hard, but even that is inexcusable. He does NOT keep them warm except occasionally, and allows them to be thoroughly drenched in the rain. These are a couple of brave, uncomplaining brindlekin who do NOT deserve this at all. No dog does, regardless of their size. While I don’t believe any of this happened, that Deek claimed DID occur, that is: his being robbed and beaten, including Taco & Wiley. IT’S JUST A BIG DRAMA he’s cooked up. Nonetheless, it is way too clear they are not going to survive much longer, under the neglectful conditions that Deek allows. His crying while seated on the sidewalk, his dead mother, how awful his life has been…ALL OF IT, A LIE! At least, in the sense he’s playing out a needless drama.

And I MUST take him at his word, about the supposed physical attacks and his being ill. That alone demands I answer to my conscience, and protect the furry angels. It IS possible, he will accept that new arrangement, realizing that he can not POSSIBLY care for them properly.

However, this may all blow over if indeed he is one of my guardian angels, putting on a show, that I be the hero. In which case the ruse will dissolve, veil of illusion will drop. And he’ll be more than glad to keep the doggies with me.

Otherwise, we’ve got a battle on my hands. And if he decides to try to wreck my living situation be screaming at my building late at night, or throws rocks, or tries to get others to gang up on me: such commotion COULD lead to my eviction. But what did I say about worry:

It’s good for nothin’, I won’t even go there. But I look at Wiley and hold her, and she is MOST happy to be inside. I could NEVER betray her, or Taco of course. These are dear, sweet little creatures whom the Fates have brought to me for their protection. I’ll never forget that night a couple weeks back, when I returned the dogs to Deek, then departed hovel. But to my surprise, there was Wiley who ran between my feet and into the lobby the moment I opened the gates! I had no idea she had followed me all the way back here!

So, some minutes have passed since the last paragraph and guess what: Deek shows up again. He wants a blanket, some tea, and for me to charge his devices. Then parks himself in a recess BELOW MY BUILDING. Said he’ll be quiet, it’s raining. Well, no it’s not raining any more…and I told him he’ll attract his noisy friends. But he wouldn’t budge, said “Okay give me back the dogs then, and I’ll go!”

I told him they need to take a break fro;m the cold and the rain. Then he said further snarky things to me. Yet he says he’s injured, feels really weak. He really knows how to play a person. Well, the confrontation hasn’t happened yet, about me keeping the doggies. But it will happen some time soon. So I just stepped outside to see if he finally left, but he didn’t. And then he hollered across the street to someone he knows…who didn’t hear him an kept walking, but that’s beside the point.

This is insane. I’ve never had to deal with such a punk before…because I’ve never been in a situation to protect a couple of pooches, who are OWNED by a punk.

  • Zeke

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 3, 2021 1:45 PM

I truly admire your courage.

Faith gives courage. But it takes COURAGE to have IMMENSE faith…as this situation clearly demands. I am surmised he IS an angel, and testing my strength to stand up and do the right thing. There are two levels to this reality:

1) Face value. That Deek truly was injured, he’s limping about and not very strong. And he WILL try to mess up my life when I refuse to deliver the brindlekin back to him.

2) It is a spiritual test by a bodhisattva named Deek in this world. If I fail, I lose everything. I will NOT fail!

This is the ONLY chance I have to save the lives of Taco & Wiley. Should I surrender them up to him, I will never see any of them again…for he will KNOW I’ll do everything I can to take them from him. And he and the doggies will most likely die on the streets. I can NOT allow that to happen; I have chosen the righteous path. Next I see him, I’ll keep the pups inside and tell Deek he is not capable at this time of caring for the dogs: he is injured and weak, and full of disturbing notions. NOW is the time he needs to get his act together, first by marching off to a clinic. He said he is bleeding and defecating (or at least WAS). There is possibly serious, internal injury going on. He needs to FIGHT to save his own life, and can’t do it while tending to the canines.

I’ll tell him if he starts stirring up a commotion towards me, and/or around my apartment building I WILL call the police and press animal abuse charges against him! This IS abuse, Tara, even if you just look at it as two little doggies being exposed 24/7 to this bitter, cold and damp weather. He forces them to sit, lie down and sleep on the concrete most of the time! He gets angered at them with ever greater frequency! I will tell him:

“Deek, I’m not TAKING the Taco & Wiley from you, I’m SHELTERING them for you! They are small doggies and will get very sick or even DIE if they continue to live on the streets. I could never forgive myself it that happens; you will blame ME for not being more forceful about keeping them inside. You will become the most miserable person on earth, should that happen. So I MUST do what’s right for them AND you. You should know by now I will give up my life for these angels, if it comes to that! Besides which: if not for me, you would’ve lost them a long time ago.”

Based on the incredible adventures–both benevolent and horrid–I’ve been having these past few months, it is of great importance not to obsess over wicked threats against my person, no matter who, how or where they come from. WORRY ONLY WARPS THE SOUL! Which is PRECISELY the instructions imparted by Buddhist teaching in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. For in order to ascent to a higher level, one must NOT cave in to fear or doubt when the demons approach and attempt to derail you. And if you past their test, they will then drop their masks of evil to reveal their true nature: angels! Who will then proudly escort to a better realm. I have concluded that the Tibetan Book of the Dead is, most importantly, a guide to life on THIS level. For those who come to realize that it most certainly is, we than have the key to Godhead, if we so choose. For, when that divine tome discusses how to successfully ascend the next level, isn’t it obvious that this present existence is but ONE of many, possible infinite, levels?

Thus, as my final challenge in life (that is, one of a diabolical nature), Deek as bodhisattva (or angel) plays the dragon to my knight. If I understand the nature of the bodhisattva, they will continue to threaten and torment you until you take the DECISIVE stand towards right action throughout the entire conflict, even if it means culminating in his death, or some other horrid, albeit nonfatal, outcome. ONCE you have placed yourself SOLIDLY on that foundation of indisputable resolve, the bodhisattva WILL back off and show his ultimate nature: an angel. But they are not TOTALLY malicious when playing the demon, as they WILL give you clues now and then, as to they’re being ACTORS on life’s stage, rather than authentic villains for real. (One of the secrets in Buddhist thought, FYI, is there actually ARE no villains, any where and any time.) Usually, you won’t catch any clue except with a touch of hindsight, maybe later that same day, or the next day, or a few days further down the line. In SOME unique situations, you may not catch onto their clues until YEARS later. Which is certainly the case when it comes to my Nam Vet comrade in loving arms, Randolph Taylor. And finally, when I did, I wrote the book…which, as part of its purpose, explains the bodhisattva nature in various ways, including between the lines.

So I don’t really think Deek will push things further, or even push any more, at all. For I have finally attained an absolutely FIRM resolution for the conflict at hand. Though he may decide to take his act all the way, whereby I WILL have him arrested on charges of animal abuse. Whether he goes to prison or not, should be neither my concern nor worry…but certainly NOT my wish, under any circumstance. But I WILL follow through should he force my hand.

Now what about these subtle “clues” I’ve mentioned above? Well, the afternoon he returned after five days’ disappearance, acting all distraught (about being violently attacked, bleeding and defecating as a result), he wound up engaging in friendly conversation with street denizen Nathanial Wilson…with a broad smile crossing his Cajun mug. In addition: in that same scenario, he requested I bring him a hot cup of blueberry tea and a two bandannas. Now, if he WERE so grievously assaulted just the previous night or that morning, do you think he’d have the presence of mind for smiles and a spot o’ tea? I think not, Tara. Another example is that he sometimes speaks words as if just memorized and rehearsed from a script handed to him. Like when I predict his reaction over an issue I addressed just previously (some of which predictions I’ve emailed you), he’ll respond the next time he appears, as if he can read my mind.

One final example: after addressing Nathaniel about Deek’s present and tragic demise, elaborating on God’s role in this and how Ge never abandons anyone in times of crisis (even if it may seem so, and my friend needs to keep the faith), Deek interrupted with a wave of the hand, said “I don’t wanna hear this BS,: and told me to get going, bring back the tea and bandannas, and he’ll hand over the mutts. In conclusion:

Deek is none other than one of God’s Own Angels putting me through my paces.

So, it’s now 1:30 PM the next day, and Deek has yet to show up. Which is good, and if he is indeed the angel I conjecture, he knows it’s time to back off and allow me my own peace to tend to the dogs, and my tales. After all, I’m doing this for HIM as well as the pooches: that I become famous and rich ASAP in order to provide them all with something they can call a REAL home. Now here’s a perk:

I may have a solid ally in my quasi-fascist neighbor, Moe, thanks to my uploading those Skelli videos into a featured blog entry…being the great dog lover he is, especially when it comes to the wee ones! Thus, should any conflict arise between myself and the building manager, Moe may come to the rescue.

Now, as I type this, my latest missive to you, I am also listening to Marshall’s latest podcast. When, just as I arrived at the end of the above paragraph, he broke out in reading my tale, “I’m Counting on His Hugs,” which is chapter 2 of Brindlekin Tales. Beautifully read, as usual. Looks like he’s gonna read each chapter of my tales in their order. Perfect! Each week I can splice them out and upload them to my Youtube channel. See, Tara? Everything IS going my way, in spite of this recent unwelcome (but necessary) debacle. This marks my THIRD most excellent blog entry in less than twenty-four hours!

  • Zeke

PS: Though you have to admit (beyond a shade of doubt) that this latest-but-most-difficult real life episode with Deek, makes for GREAT story material! Not that anyone in their right mind wants to live through such dread themselves, like monster movies, but they sure eat it up for its entertainment value! And THAT is what he is doing for me: creating the latest chapter! And he KNOWS it. Which certainly explains once again bringing up his warning that I’d better not be writing about himself and the doggos. I reassured him, once more: “Absolutely not. I’m writing very funny pieces, and very scary ones, and a couple of sci-fi adventures…but NOTHING with you or Wiley & Taco in them.” But this time around he appended to his usual gripe about my tales: “Because I’ll be angry if you’re lying. I’d prefer to know if you ARE writing about me, then I won’t be so upset.” He’s GOADING me, the mischievous bodhisattva par excellence! He KNOWS! But how could he, if not telepathic? Talk about tossing me another clue!

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 3, 2021 5:24 PM

Deek just showed up less than 10 minutes ago. So I braced myself, thought of bringing the dogs but then, no, I realized: bad idea. I can NOT cave in to letting him have his way with them, that is colored by a confused ego. I took a deep breath upon approaching him, and asked, “How are you doing today?”

I noticed he’s still limping, but otherwise looks just fine. He said he doesn’t want the dogs back today, but a $40 advancement on his weekly allowance…which is fine with me: he’s been doing that almost every week, for months. But I made up a story, an IMPORTANT story that justifies the lie:

“Deek, we had to take Taco & Wiley to the vet this morning, because they refused to eat ever since they got here yesterday.”

“Who’s WE? What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh, they’re okay now. The vet said they had mild hypothermia, that’s overexposure to the cold, and it can ruin their appetite for starters. And WE is me and a kind neighbor with his own dog, who offered to take them to his vet, and cover the charge.”

Deek was not the least bit upset, or reacted snarky upon hearing this, but did claim they always eat well, even in all this rain and cold. I explained that they’re small dogs that can’t retain body heat like the big ones, and that hypothermia can sneak up on you. Almost a whole week exposed to the cold and rain nonstop, is dangerous. He then said (and get this):

“I can arrange to pick them up for the day, then bring ’em back each night.”

“Excellent idea,” I replied. “But YOU need to move ahead now, take care of yourself, go to a clinic for starters, work your way up from there.”

“I know, get a home for myself, too!” he volunteered, and to my surprise. Though not really, as I’ve already figured out he’s an angel playing me.

“Exactly. You’re in NO condition to take the doggies back right now. Besides, they need at least a few days to recuperate. So now’s a good time to deal with your own needs, and I hope you do it ASAP.”

I ran hovel to snatch two Jacksons, then returned and handed them over. He started explaining what the advance is for, fresh clothes and such. But I interrupted and said he doesn’t need to tell me. He never has to, I trust him. When we were discussing the dogs, he also interjected, “I already had two dogs die on me,” as if it were no big deal. I retorted that we DON’T want that to happen to the brindlekin. Overall, it was an impressively decent meet, as I predicted it would be…that my very own, personal bodhisattva doll would cease its antagonism! But I DID note he played it right on the edge a bit, with a few provocative statements, such as saying he’s already had two canines perish under his watch. What an ass-wipe!

He said he’ll return some time tomorrow (I would think so, as he also gave me his smartphone, a pocket radio and a small, portable power supply to recharge; he might even come back for them tonight.) But I’m very pleased with the outcome, as it is clear I can oppose returning the dogs for a time, without resistance on his part, based on any reasonable justification, such as chill weather and rain. I also advised him to get a handle on his short temper, the dogs don’t deserve it. In sum:

I passed the test with flying crullers! Now that is something to celebrate…like tears of joy falling from the sky! (Most people call it rain.)

  • Zeke

Re: [MCN-Announce]- 5 Cold Days & Nights (my latest blog entry)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Arnie Worster
Date: January 3, 10:15 PM

I am really hoping for some good news about your little friends. I have begun to get pretty fond of them myself and I know you are more than fond.

Aww, thank you so much. Well, you’ll be the first to know that I have decided to keep the dogs and charge Deek with animal abuse. He has no idea, but the shit will hit the fan next time he shows up and asks for them back. I’ll tell him they need a day or two more recuperation from the cold. I’ll be very polite, but no doubt he’ll start screaming, so I’ll say “Okay, okay, I’ll get them right now.” Then I’ll hurry back hovel and dial 911 and have him thrown in jail. He seems to be more angry these days…not just at me, but also his dogs. I’m afraid they’ll die if I surrender them back to him. Seeing as you’ve read my latest tale, you understand that I have to answer to my conscience at this point…bodhisattva be damned!

Wish I could give you a better report, but something happened tonight about an hour ago that made me realize I should NEVER give the doggies back. He came by early this evening, and seemed fine for a time. I brought him some tea, and we talked for a few minutes. Then went our separate ways, as is the usual pattern. He said he was gonna crash out around the corner, in that cozy nook by Cafe Flore…where he was just this past Exmass Eve eve. Well, about an hour later the pups need their nightly walk, so I decided it would be nice for them to visit Deek-in-his-nook for a little while…showing good faith, I thought, in trusting him, and interjecting a positive boost whenever I can. I had already decided things would be better now, after our most recent conversation.

So we surprise him, where he’s hidden behind a makeshift cardboard wall about four feet high. At first, he was glad to see the brindlekin, but when Wiley started licking him on the face, he pushed her away in anger:

“I HATE it when they lick me! I train ALL my dogs to not lick, and you’re fucking that up! I wish you hadn’t brought ’em over!”

I’ve already explained to him MANY times that you can’t stop a canine from licking you; it’s a sign of affection towards another dog or human, this cleaning your face. And he can always distract them by letting them lick your hand instead, for example…but their instinct to lick can NOT be altered very much, unless you put fear in their heart. And that’s a terrible thing to do. Besides, you can always wipe your face with hand sanitizer, once that little act of endearment is done. So in order to change the subject, I pointed out how sweet Wiley is; and how Taco is such a good brother to her; that they’ve got each other’s brindleback. Sometimes, late at night, Wiley will raise her head to check on her sibling, see if he’s still there, and alright. But he ignored all that, while repeatedly shoving BOTH slurpy-tongue dogs away from his face, with a frown that could make a rhino drop dead in its tracks:

“You better not get her spayed behind my back!” he threatened. “I wanna pick ’em up tomorrow morning.”

“I think it’s better we let them recuperate a day or two longer, Deek.”

“Don’t play me, Zeke, I’ll take ’em back right now if you keep that up!” he scathed.

“No one’s playing you, Deek.” I said, so very tired of his constant “don’t play me” accusations. Childish. “These are little dogs, they shouldn’t be outdoors so long in this chilly weather.”

Well, he continued griping/mumbling in accusatory bursts, while I decided to continue our doggie walk, and called back:

“This is too much…I just wanted to do something nice for you by bringing them around. See you tomorrow, Crocadorrow!”

He just kept grumbling semi-loud as me and the brindlekin disappeared into the darkness among the trees and vehicles of Noe Street. And finally returned home…this time without bothering to visit with Deek again by returning via the opposite side of the street. Once hovel, I pondered over what need be done at this point, and all signs point to claiming Taco & Wiley as my own. I’m gonna have one angry, crazy dude on my hands, by tomorrow. Hopefully, they will NOT let him out of jail soon. This situation could wind up making ME homeless, as well.

But those are just worries, right? No point on dwelling on them o’ermuch, as I’d only make myself sick. Just do what you know is the right thing to do, then do it… and all will be copasetic, and ye shall know peace. And so shall the two, sweet canes. that have blessed my world immensely. I’m tempted to end this email by saying “wish me luck.”

However, luck is not part of this game. You don’t get “lucky,” you get “faith.” Interesting thing about Taco you don’t yet know: his real name is, guess what…LUCKY! (And Wiley’s is Flaco.)

  • Zeke

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 4:32 AM

I just looked into the laws about taking a homeless person’s pet because it’s being abused. Sadly, that is illegal, even in that circumstance. Besides, Deek would go berserk, start screaming up at my window or from across the street, and making a big, horrific stink, rounding up his homeless allies to cause further havoc. Which I cannot beat, because the law is against me; the police would NOT be on my side. Even though animal abuse is now a federal offense (one of the few things good that Trump has done, by signing this into law) you cannot STEAL. It would be regarded as taking justice into your own hands, in a legal system that still regards pets as property. So, what do I do now?

Keep the faith as to their safety, and do my best to deal with Deek’s bipolar behavior as best I can. My playing hero would only make things worse all the way ’round. Frankly, were I rich I’d just take the doggies and flee to parts unknown. Well, that’s what I SHOULD be aiming for, but it’s a battle with time…assuming my stories WILL take off, profit-wise. But how SOON would that be? Aye, there’s the rub!

  • Zeke

PS: It’s now Monday morning and, as I type this addendum, it’s raining cats and dogs (two must’ve leaked in, ’cause they’re here now), and Deek has yet to show up, thank God. The two brindlekin are presently tucked away in cozy slumber upon the cot. They had a good walk, and a good poop, earlier. Wiley was hungry, but Taco was not. All in a dog’s day. See the image attached? I found it after searching for “mandala of faith.”

Re: 5 cold nights and days: no sign of Deek and doggies!
From: Zeke Krahlin
Tara Roosevelt
Date: Date: January 4, 2021 11:43 AM

Wise, though heart-wrenching, decision.

Ha-ha, I just posted a new, and hopeful, solution to this Mephistophelean dilemma. How can I expect YOU to keep up, when I, myself, can not?


Subject: A New Doggie Door Opens..you won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 1:59 PM

I’m stupefied how fast things are movin’, I really can’t keep up with it. Every time I turn around, Universal Mind gives me yet ANOTHER tale to compose! So I grab what I can, stuff it in my satchel, and leave the rest to fly off to God knows where…perhaps finally to be ensnared in Glaucus’s fishing net over there by the Aegean Sea’s rocky coast. So here’s what just came up at this moment:

I checked my bank account about an hour ago, to see if my first GoFundMe withdrawal had arrived. Well, it hadn’t but THIS did:

$600 stimulus check.

As I let that sink in, a thought bubble rose to the top of my cranium, And here is what it whispered in my ear, from the inside out:

“Remember that several times so far, Deek has suggested he’s willing to give up the doggies for anyone who can pay him four hundred dollars…and you freaked out? But now YOU have it…plus some! And he made it obliquely clear that that offer includes yourself, Zeke! And the doggies are with YOU right now, not him!”

This four hundred buckazoids would have to be in ADDITION to one-half of the second stimulus check I promised him, once it shows up. Because I’m sure he’s gotten wind of its arrival through the methamphetamine grapevine, and I sincerely doubt I could pull the wool over his eyes by just offering him four hundred. He’d immediately retort:

“That’s just a hunnar-dollar.”

So really, I’d have to present him with the sum total of seven Benjamins. But I refuse to make the exchange without a reliable witness, and the one who is OBVIOUS, and popped into my mind instantly, is Boulevard Joe.

Without a witness, most likely two or three weeks after the trade, Deek would start screaming at me, accusing me of dog theft. Which would fuck me over big time. But one thing he DOES respect is a trustworthy witness to a transaction between or among street denizens. I was thinking of printing out a contract, with Deek’s social security number underneath his printed name and signature. Then, signatures from one or more witnesses, one being a resident of my building, who’d include his address or smartphone number, along with his John Hancock.

So THIS is how my bodhisattva wants to play it! “Clever” is too milquetoasty a word for it! For he had already set the scenario some time ago…knowing I’d catch on further down the line, once that stimulus windfall came knocking on my doggie door.

Assuming the next time he shows up, and agrees with the deal, I won’t even have to bring my brindlemutts back outside to be with him again! So, if it DOES go through, I might need your help to cover that loss of an additional one-hundred dollars, which cuts into my REAL budget. But too soon to know for sure, at this moment. Just thought you’d get a kick out of this latest twist in the Brindlekin Tales, Tara!

  • Zeke

Re: A New Doggie Door Opens..you won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 2:14 PM

Good plan! I’ll be standing by.

You’re always standing by, Tara. For that, I am stupendously grateful…especially since you always keep those ankles well covered!

Re: A New Doggie Door Opens..you won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 4, 2021 6:48 PM

Definitely have witnesses (video, too, if possible), and get a receipt.

Yes, a video, it hadn’t occurred to me. I have a smartphone, and that will do nicely. I will also tell Boulevard Joe and Deek:

“Now spread the word that Zeke has bought Deek’s dogs, fair and square. ‘Cause I don’t need folks comin’ up to me, wondering if I stole ’em.”

I’ll address the two, but it’s mostly to show Deek he can’t get away with renegging on me…without even bringing up the issue. Should he refuse to oblige, that’ll tell me right then and there what his intentions TRULY are.

PS: Marco read chapter two of my Brindlekin Tales last Friday, BTW. I’m truly on the road to success now! As if I didn’t already know since the eve of the eve of Samhain…but hey, I love tooting my own horn. :D

  • Zeke

[Patient (and no doubt highly stressed at this point, as it’s a real cliffhanger!) Reader: it is very IMPORTANT at this moment, to realize that Deek IS my personal bodhisattva, who plays the trickster, tossing challenge after challenge at my feet, that I learn to successfully deal with each one as compassionately as possible. It is therefore NOT appropriate to project ANY animosity towards him, whatsoever. In fact, HE SHOULD BE PRAISED TO THE HEAVENS! And be treated kindly and with much respect, should you run into him somewhere in the Castro or other local environ. I also want to reassure all my benevolent followers, that this deviously dreadful doggie debacle will eventually resolve itself in the most angelic manner possible. Though even I, at this moment, have no idea exactly how. Well, come to think of it, I do have a GLIMPSE of an idea how the outcome will unfold. But no more than your own conjecture, which I’m sure is now being mulled over by your most impressive cerebral machinations. So enjoy the mulling before the culling!]

Re: A New Doggie Door Opens..you won’t believe it!
From: Zeake Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 5 2021 6:55 PM

Since his vulgar accusations spewed at me three nights ago, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of bodhisattva Deek. Just as well, ’cause I don’t need his constant string of disruptive dramas in my world, while caring for the doggies along with my intense creative cycle, and PUSH for authorial success. But the plan is firm, regarding buying his doggies off for $400. Though I don’t really need anyone to sign anything, or get a receipt, as shooting that video will take care of it all, with Boulevard Joe as witness. But I have THIS ace in the hole:

I will inform Deek that, should he try to pull a fast one, by rousing up the homeless rabble against me (claiming that I’ve stolen Taco & Wiley), or try to screw me over in any other way, I DO have his social security number. And with that, can fuck up his life royally. I will INFORM Louisiana authorities that I know a certain deadbeat dad from New Orleans, who fled here to Frisco eleven or twelve years ago…and I know exactly where he is, if you care to drag him back your state and lock him up.

In fact, I will advise Deek to not even THINK about hurling any more insults and false accusations in my direction, nor to badmouth me among the street folks. In fact, he’d better get his little ass wigglin’ and start telling everyone he knows that I’m a really GOOD guy who has helped him out immensely, over many years.

Such is the card I will play, if need be, in this particular game of Battle of the Bodhisattvas. For the brindlekin’s protection comes before all else. FYI: should he REFUSE to accept trade in money, I WILL play that card, to force his hand.

  • Zeke

Re: A New Doggy Door Opens..you won’t believe it!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 6, 2021 4:40 PM

Whew. Good. Stand firm.

I absolutely intend to continue to help him out…but he’s put me between a boulder and a hard place, where I will likely be forced to make such a frightening deal. I will do my best to explain to him that I have NO desire to cause him fear or anger, or misery in any way, shape or form…that it pleases me more than anything else, to continue relations on a friendly level.

He still hasn’t shown up; what is this, day four of his latest disappearance I wonder: is he in the hospital? in jail? did he run away? is he dead?

I prefer to think “none of the above,” as my not-worry attitude also presages most positive outcomes possible in everything I do, these days. Which suggests that an ugly confrontation will NOT be in the cards, and next time he shows up things will be majorly improved, and be in my favor 100 percent. As for the doggies:

Their appetite has turned lackluster these last two days…not wanting to eat anything at all, or finishing barely a quarter of their bowl. But they DID still enjoy their chicken-chew treats until this morning, when Taco refused to eat any, and Wiley stopped at three, even though I offered four.

They do not act depressed or forlorn in any way, but continue to be joyful and affectionate. They ARE resting a lot, which means little exercise, which MAY be the cause of a depressed desire to feed their little bellies. So yesterday evening, I ordered online a whole rotisserie chicken from “Bonita Taqueria Y Rotisserie” just behind my apartment building, on 16th Street. Marking the first time I’ve ever ordered something digitally, from a restaurant. And boy did they love it! Cost me twenty smackaroonies, but SO glad they noshed it all up.

I fed it to them in four separate portions, removing the skin and bones each time, while standing at my food prep counter (which is actually the topmost large storage container of two, right between the windows). As I stepped away from the second round of preparation, they suddenly started to snarl and yap viciously at each other, standing on hind legs and battling it out with paw and fang! This was a serious matter. who gets the chicken! I ordered them to immediately stop, and they calmed down. After that, no more fighting ensued, thank Anubis! They seemed greatly improved after such a fine and savory repast. They have never fought over food before this, not on MY watch.

I will start using my GoFundMe cash to cover this expense, whenever necessary. My initial withdrawal is due to arrive tomorrow, and I saved the digital receipt as proof of my first expense accrued for my homeless doggy project. For which I’ve already set up a URL on my GFM story, for anyone to examine, located somewhere on my Gay Bible site. It will be broken down into monthly statements, with a link to each description of this or that expenditure, which you can click on to view the receipt. For this one, the reason will be described like so:

“1 whole rotisserie chicken in hopes of resolving a suppressed appetite in both dogs.”

Of course, cynics and haters will question whether that delicious fowl actually went to Taco & Wiley, rather than to their present guardian. So be it. If you have any tips on improving a dog’s appetite, I’m all ears, Tara. I’ve been researching this issue online, and it has been suggested to pour the juice from a can of tuna onto their kibble or canned meal. But another site that answers the question “can dogs eat tuna” warns of potential mercury poisoning! Better options would be salmon, whitefish, herring, flounder, or Arctic char…so I’ll see what I can do about that. First I’ll check into the corner store where Morey, a very kind fellow, works. (I’ve told you about him already, some time ago, which emails are destined to appear in “Brindlekin Tales: the Prequel.”) I always prefer to make my purchases through him, if I can. Perhaps I should switch to cooking their food…me, a vegetarian who aspires to become a full-blown vegan! Who now, because of these pooches, has an increasing presence of meat products in his hovel.

Honestly, I think it’s lack of exercise, but I don’t know of any safe place where they can run their cute little butts off, without a possibly nasty run-in with another dog, or even human. I need access to a fenced backyard! But how do I possibly arrange that? No doubt Kismet will find a way; she’s a very good friend of mine. I’m tempted to call her “Tara,” but I think I’ll hold off on that for awhile longer, at least until these revelations now blossoming in my world reveal more secrets.

Is it possible they miss Deek? That would be a difficult challenge to overcome. They don’t show any outward signs at all…except when we exit my hovel and proceed towards Noe, they’ll tug on the leash towards the opposite corner where Deek stations himself to see me. I just opened a can of Purina gravy-style, and only Wiley took notice, and hopped off the cot to reach the freshly-filled bowl. But she took just a few bites before jumping back up to the cot, and sought some loving hugs on my lap. Taco just continued to rest. I approached him to give hugs, too. He was limp as a noodle when I partly picked him up and kissed him. But he’s always limp when I go to raise him off the bedding, because it’s an act of utter and complete trust towards me. So, not a bad sign as far as I can tell. They do not seem sad at all, but very pleased to have this sanctuary, and my company.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if I could use that $400 (or even the full 600) from my stimulus, to cover unpredictable expenses like roast chicken? We’ll see, though I think that Deek’s possible death or other tragedy is way too high a price to pay! Perhaps, being my personal bodhisattva playing a trickster (whose role is to antagonize me as much as possible, that I grow in spirit by learning how to resolve all challenges with compassion), he may conclude that it’s now time to end the game. Wouldn’t that be nice!


So, it’s been around a half hour since I composed the previous paragraph, because I had to stop, upon hearing Deek call to me from across Market Street. That’s when I noticed a heavy drizzle (when did it start?). I thought he yelled, with a strong wave of one hand, and the other gripping a shopping cart:

“C’mon out! Bring the dogs!”

My anxious heart leapt with trepidation, knowing that the showdown was about to take place. So I donned jacket and watch cap, while the brindlekin stood close by the door, corkscrew tails a-waggin’…for they know their master’s voice. But I had no intention of REALLY bringing them outside to see him, so called them over to the bed. But right when I opened the door a crack, a little birdie (goddam that little birdie, I don’t even know its name…Tweety, perhaps? Henery Hawk? Heckle or Jeckle? Roadrunner? Daffy Duck? Woodstock? Donald or Huey, Dewey or Louie or even Daisy? Foghorn Leghorn? Toucan Sam? Woody Woodpecker? Sesame Street’s Big Bird? Beaky Buzzard? Egghead Junior? Chilly Willy? Playboy Penguin? Gyro Gearloose? Mallard Fillmore? Gladstone Gander? Baby Huey? Kowalski?) chirped away:

“Bring the pups, Zeke! You must show compassion and trust towards Deek. That way, when you propose purchasing them, he will likely not resist the idea. Keep the faith, my friend…isn’t that what it’s all about, anyways?”

So I took a deep sigh, leashed up the doggies. Then, at the last moment, grabbed three Benjamins out of the seven I had conveniently secured beneath an orange, plastic, open-top desk bin I got from a Chinese variety shop in the Inner Sunset six years ago. Which contained four dollar-store sunglasses; a small box of dog-poop bags in six tight rolls of 20 each; some nine-or-so folded letters in ragged-open-ended envelopes from Medi-Cal that are months old and should be tossed away (plus one from Kaiser-Permanente offering to screw me over with their “premium” supplemental medical care riddled with copay, deductible and egregious high and unpredictable hidden fees); a SONY pocket-size AM-FM battery powered transistor radio with high nostalgic value; a soft-rubber, semi-transparent dark-gray, protective, snap-on backing for whatever model smartphone it would fit (I don’t know which one, but found it over a year ago, thinking someday it would find a match in one of Deek’s constantly streaming cell phone street scores that are with him one day and gone the next, though I’ve never bothered to try it out on any one of them, so I really should trash it); a thickly woven, black cloth friendship bracelet given to me by Deek about four years ago (with the Celtic cross hammered into a small brass circle like a coin, bound in the middle); one curled up three-foot USB cord with right-angled insert at one end; a small, plastic spray bottle of Walgreens “Professional Lens Cleaner” that I used to use to clean the screens on my laptop, second standalone display and smartphone (but there are only a few drops left, so I’m gonna throw it away right now, wait a moment, there I’m back); and a hardcover copy of your latest literary masterpiece, “Twilight in Somalia.”

As me and doggies exited the front gate, there was Deek standing at the far end of the covered bus stop. The heavy drizzle had just stopped, and the sun shone brightly through, between scudding gray and elongated puffballs.

“I told you not to bring the dogs!” he hollered.

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry,” I said as I approached. “I thought you said BRING the dogs.”

Said mutts were now busy with eager greets, jumping upon his legs for attention, which Deek warmly returned.

He brought up the stimulus money before I even got the pleasure to bring it up myself. I told him yes I have it, can you accept hundred dollar bills?

“Wow, you read my mind,” he declared with a smile as I handed it to him. “I’m gonna get this incredible three-hundred dollar speaker with that money!”

Somewhat disappointed, I asked: “Wouldn’t it be better to spend some of that on the doggies, and get a less expensive but still good speaker?”

Then he went on to say he was also gonna get new sneakers, a sweater and some other apparel. So I just smiled and told him good for you. Upon his pausing a moment, I interjected:

“I can afford to buy the dogs from you now, if you’re still up to it! The four hundred dollars are waiting upstairs for you right now.”

Well, he bust out into tears right then and there, saying how he’d NEVER sell them, he wouldn’t ever see them again, it would break his heart, how he so much loves them both, but especially Taco since he’s been with him through thick and thin, for over a year now.

“C’mon, Deek!” I remarked. “Wiley’s a wonderful pooch, too…they’re BOTH amazing. Surely you love them both with all your heart!”

“Yes, of course I do, Zeke,” he replied while wiping some tears away. “You’re the only one I trust with them, you’re a life saver!”

With that, I breathed a great sigh as a dark weight flew from my shoulders: “Well God bless you, Deek, I’m glad you finally realize I’m not trying to steal them from you, but protect them FOR you, so they’ll live long, happy lives, instead of getting sick and dying in the streets. This cold and rain and crazy people are too MUCH for the little angels!”

He went on weeping at the very thought of losing his precious doggos: “Please don’t give them away, Zeke! Please don’t. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you did!”

I boldy reassured him: “NOT gonna happen, not EVER, Deek! It’s just that you seemed very serious about selling them for four hundred dollars, which really worried me. I was in grief; I prayed like the world might come to an end. So when the stimulus showed up, I figured it would be MUCH better that “I” purchase them, so they’d stay with us! ‘Cause I don’t know what I’d do, either, without these darlin’s in my life!”

He continued to sob copiously, hugging and petting the furry-pelted objects of our conversation. So I elaborated: “They can NOT remain outside any more, it’s too dangerous for such little creatures! I’m saving their lives, Deek, for YOU!”

He wiped even more tears away, though they continued to flow…thus a pointless gesture. And he bawled:

“You’re right, I don’t want them to be out here any more, either. That would be cruel. Thank you SO so much, Zeke!”

“Well, more good news, Deek,” I joyfully exclaimed. “Everyone in my building loves the doggies, and the manager has not presented ANY problem about them staying here.”

Then he said he’s really sorry, but he’s busy and gotta get going. As he turned to leave I called to him about how he has a mood-swing problem, and I have it too, well, at least I USED to have it…but he was already halfway across the street. I knew he heard me though, and that will have a favorable impact on his healing from decades of unbelievable struggles and meth addiction. Before he was out of earshot I hollered “God bless you Deek!” three glorious times. Yes, Tara, the best is yet to come!

So as I began to return hovel, I realized, hey, good time to take the dogs for a walk…and so I did. A good poop and copious peeing on that hydrant, this wall, that tree and this wadded up clump of rain-soaked paper bags was had by all! As I looked greatly forward to returning to my SRO and composing this latest missive to you, with appended good news.

So here the Angels of Destiny favored me once more, as they’ve been doing in sort of a “working overtime” mission since late October, to assure Zeke’s success over all things possible…and, I guess, IMpossible. Now I can transfer the remaining half of my stimulus to my GoFundMe account, and use some of that money for roasted chicken and other unexpected needs for which Canis familiarus so well deserves, for all the love they give to humanity!

So, yes, this PROVES that Deek is indeed my trickster bodhisattva, who HAS decided now’s the time to END this years-long game of most painful challenges. JUST as I surmised at the earlier part of this email! Along with my wish to use a chunk of that stimulus for the doggies’ sake. I want to further point out, that:

Deek has been weaving these amazing stories around me for years now, just like Arwyn does…or used to do. And it’s all fuckin’ SCRIPTED, I swear it is! What a couple of lovable phonies! GREAT thespians, though. But I’m sure Arwyn’ll resume his pranks in a short time from today, after a 38-month hiatus. He’s been on my mind a lot, lately. Definitely sending me telepathic communique that he’ll be seeing me real soon. I’ve had little vignettes in my mind the past two days, of Arwyn returning to me, this time with angel wings fully exposed and emanating golden rays of tomfoolery.

Well, Wiley just arose from her nap and extended a sweet paw upon my knee, her darling face with Yoda ears gazing up into my eyes. Then Taco got up, too, and we all joined heads in a group hug of canine allegiance! So now I must bid you adieu for the nonce, dear Tara…as it’s time for me to step out and pick up yet a SECOND rotisserie chicken for these two brindlekin so beloved by BOTH Deek and myself, and all the good angels who watch down on us! <3 <3 <3

  • Zeke

PS: One more thing. Wiley was on my keyboard yesterday. She has recently developed the habit of stretching up on the hexagonal table where my keyboard rests along the edge. In order to see if any more treats remain on the riser, upon where my laptop is located, and where I set down a handful of these treats before feeding them to the pups, one by one. And inevitably the keyboard responds to the pressure of those dainty hind paws, causing strange but harmless reactions onscreen. (Harmless so far; she might one day hack into the nuclear weapons system of Iraq or some other far-flung nation, and cause all sorts of canine havoc). Upon returning with the scorched Gallus gallus domesticus from “Bonita,” I found this on my screen:

[voir la photo ci-jointe]

Notice how the character string “XEAWO” in the location bar matches (possibly) two little paws, the left one pressing on the first four letters, which are close together on the keyboard’s left side. And the final character, on the right, where her right paw landed. Either that, or she was trying to look up some X-rated material on the sly. Maybe puppy porn? Nah, she’s too much of a sweet girl for that!

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