The Doggies are Now Mine!

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 1: Chapter 19]

URGENT! TRULY URGENT! The dogs won’t eat ANYthing!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM

SOMETHING URGENT has come up: THE DOGS REFUSE TO EAT ANYTHING, AT ALL, INCLUDING ROTISSERIE CHICKEN!

They continue to refuse the kibble and/or canned gravy-style Pedigree dog food (as well as these chicken-chew treats), so this makes the third day in a row I’ve blown twenty dollars on rotisserie fowl. At first, I pulled the white meat off the bone in small pieces, and mixed a considerable amount with some other canned food that Deek left me: “Diamond Naturals Chicken Dinner”…not chunky at all, just firmly packed, gray-brown mush. No success in THAT department; the mashed-in chicken pieces failed to entice!

So I then prepared a bowl each of nothing BUT roasted bird, just as I’ve done yesterday and the day before…and which they went nuts over. To my disappointment and worry, they refused to touch that, either! I have no idea what to do now, and this is becoming a financial disaster. And to make things worse, Deek showed up right in the middle of my preparing their meal. I hollered at him through the window, where he stood across Market Street, shopping cart in hand:

“Wait ten minutes, I’m feeding them!”

But he didn’t say okay, and said it will only take a minute, and he’ll wait for me by the bus stop. So I speedily finished mixing the mush with the white meat, set down the two bowls and exited. I really did NOT want to leave the brindlekin alone during feeding, as they might fight over the chicken, or Wiley would gobble up all of Taco’s portion. But I stepped out anyway and, lo and behold, there was a humongous Bluetooth speaker hogging up more than half of Deek’s shopping cart and sticking out almost a foot above the top…behind which stood the Bodhisattva of Disruption and Chaos Himself.

“I’m really hurtin’ Zeke, could you PLEASE give me a little more money to feed myself?” he begged, just like any other meth freak would, who just blew a HUGE wad of cash the day before, on something frivolous…like a stupid electronic device that he’d sell for another Tina fix in a day or two from now. (I never believed he lost any of his devices, or they were stolen, as he’d always claim. In fact, I’m both surprised and delighted that he’s held onto the dogs long enough for me to take them in permanently.)

Of course I severely reprimanded him for wasting the $300 I just gave him yesterday, instead of spending at least SOME of it on the doggies, in order to help me with their expenses. Then I paused to examine the small sticker on the speaker’s top edge:

“A hundred ninety-nine dollars, eh?”

“No, I got it for less,” he retorted. I was about to explode in fumes of anger, but tamped it down.

“It doesn’t MATTER what you spent, Deek!” I reprimanded. “You are responsible for using that money for more important things, like FEEDING yourself. It’s OUTRAGEOUS you’ve come back so soon after I just gave you a WHOPPING three hundred bucks!”

Then I explained how both Wiley & Taco have completely lost their appetite, and I just spent $60 on roasted chicken for them, three days in a row. And that MY share of the stimulus is supposed to go to THEM, not him!”

“Oh, they’ll be alright,” he blithely brushed it off. “PLEASE, I need some cash to eat. I’m very hungry now, Zeke.”

So I caved in a little, “How much do you want?”

He hesitated to answer, so I blurted: “Ten dollars?’

Deek looked shocked, as if I had the nerve to offer him such a pittance. “I was thinking more like sixty dollars.” He had the gall to add: “You have the money.”

Upon his declarng that specific sum, I parried: “Oh, you’re asking for an advance on this Saturday’s allowance. Well, I don’t know if I have that kinda money upstairs, and I’ll have to march over to the bank to withdraw it, but I’m right in the middle of dealing with your dog’s eating problems, which have me worried like hell!”

“I’ll never ask you again, Zeke, I promise!” he swore. “Really, I won’t ever ask you for any more money, never again!”

“Well I don’t believe you, Deek, but we’ll see, now won’t we?” I riposted. “You’re squeezing money out of me that I need for the dogs, now that they are in my charge. You can NOT do this ever again, Deek!”

“I promise I won’t, ever again!” he perpetuated what I know is a blatant lie. But after this round of wallet-sucking ploys, I really WON’T be able to cough up any more moolah. So be it; I am definitely more than capable of saying NO and walking away. I know, because I’ve done it before to Deek, at least several times in the past two years.

So I told him hold on, I’ll see if I have that amount, I’ll be right back. Knowing full well of course, that I did NOT have three Jacksons on hand, but FOUR one-hundred-dollar smackaroonies. “I see where this is going,” I thought in frustration as I scurried back up to my hovel, to discover that neither Taco nor Wiley had taken even a single nosh of their white-meat-studded bowl of mush, before grabbing a Bennie and exiting the building once more.

Before handing the bill to him, I admonished: “You know when I hollered back at you to wait ten minutes, ’cause I’m feeding the dogs? You could’ve easily said okay and waited. If I don’t watch Wiley, she’ll scarf up Taco’s meal too. Now I have to go back upstairs and feed one of the dogs all over again.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear you say that,” he replied. But I know better…he DID hear me say that, because he yelled in reply to my plea for him to wait: “This’ll just take a minute!”

He also mentioned how he’s doing everything to better himself (ha, as if a $199 Bluetooth speaker is a “help”). I replied that yeah, you got a tent now (which he told me yesterday, for forty dollars, and I pointed out tents are being handed out for free to the homeless, he doesn’t need to spend any money on that.) His reply?

“My tent was stolen this morning.” Of course…and his speaker will be “stolen” too, soon enough. So I declared once again:

“You can get another one, Deek. They’re handing them out for free, just ask Boulevard Joe, he’ll tell you where to get one.” Then I pointed out the Benjamin now in his hand:

“I didn’t have sixty dollars, just this hundred dollar bill, so you get NO more money for the rest of the month, I can’t AFFORD to do this any more, now that Taco & Wiley are in my care, and you’re no longer covering ANY of their expenses yourself.”

It was time for him to depart, and for me to return hovel and deal with the present doggie crisis. But before we parted ways, he said, “Thank you, I love you Zeke!” and we exchanged fist bumps. But then I summoned him to hold on, with a tug at his sleeve…so he stopped and turned to face me. I spoke these final words for this, our latest rendezvous:

“No matter what you do or don’t do, God will protect you, and turn your life around in an amazing direction. Deek. I just can’t be the one to provide you with any more cash…short of a miracle that is. Which COULD happen, but not today.”

He chose not to reply with so much as even a “thanks” or “goodbye;” instead he flashed me a broad smile, then turned away to push his shopping cart to whatever his next destiny will be. But there is an interesting topic he ALSO brought up amid our negotiations, which is this:

“There are riots,” he declared, “and revolutions going on in Washington…they wanna assassinate the president.”

“Well, they SHOULD assassinate him,” I blurted out, then mused aloud: “I’m so wrapped up in my writing and tending to your doggies, I haven’t been paying attention to the news, not ANY news, for at least two weeks now. But I’m gonna check it out later today.”

What I most appreciate (with a bit of hindsight) is that Deek learned of this by listening to the radio! A milestone I’d say, as he’s beginning to stay informed about current events now and then, instead of playing rap music 24/7. However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted. For now that I’ve caught up with the news, the issue appears to be all about pro-Trump butt lickers storming the capitol, CLAIMING that the left threatens their Commander-in-Cheat with death threats. Which clearly is NOT the case. So much like the dim-bulb, christo-fascist right wingers to scapegoat the noble opposition by blaming them for their OWN sins!

Maybe I should just not worry, and stop offering them food till they’re SO hungry they’ll eat anything? Neither pup looks the least bit distressed, sad or in any other negative mood. In fact, they’re relaxing here on the bedding, in what appears to be appreciative repose, and respite from the cold. (Jeez, we’ve had so many chilly days and nights for WEEKS now, and still not a break in sight!) They remain cheerful and sweet as ever. I’ve stashed the remaining half of the chicken in the fridge, along with the mound of scraps I placed in their bowls, which they refused to touched, now sealed in a Ziploc freezer bag.

But I refuse to end this report without analyzing the latest scenario from the perspective of bodhisattva intrigue:

This is the latest scene of Act #whatever, that Deek is playing out for my benefit. Because he’s CREATING a wonderful story that will gain me fame and vast wealth, by typing it out and sharing it with the world via WordPress, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter. And this is just the latest twist in the plot. Oh what drama! The doggies now refuse to eat, and meth-head Deek is preying on my meager finances! Woo-hoo!

• Zeke

---

I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM

Okay, I just purchased the doggies from Deek (video link towards the end of this email). As I was waiting for the police to get here, more than a half hour creeped by with him screaming “I want my dogs! I want my dogs!” from across Market Street. He saw me once or twice from the window, which didn’t help any. I had called 911 back, to arrange they call to my window, or make a little siren noise to alert me…because my landline phone has been dead since yesterday, and I can only use my smartphone to make 911 calls. How ironic, that I was incapacitated in that way, just in a moment of emergency, considering the VERY rare moments I even use my phone!

Dieter had stepped inside, with my assistance because pushing a wheelchair. I told him about the terrible turn of events with Deek. So warned him to play things dumb should he run into him. And that, since the gendarmes are taking SO long to show up, maybe he could be my bodyguard…which I’ll also need anyway, while walking the pooches. He cracked up as he slowly hobbled up the stairs, with another resident carrying the wheelchair up to his fourth-floor SRO. And said: “Oh, sorry, I’m not good at that these days!”

A few minutes later (and I still heard his painfully-slogging ascent to the second floor) I called 911 back, and asked if I could return to my hovel to tend to the doggies. (I had initially called 911 to explain how my emergency call was about Deek’s dogs, how he’s abusing them but now wants them back, which I do NOT have the heart to do, for obvious reasons. I had also explained that I was helping take care of them through the cold and rainy weather, and everything seemed hunky-dory between us. But he’s a meth freak, thus unpredictable, and today is a whopper, and I’m afraid he may be violent towards me, and wind up killing the dogs through severe neglect and abuse!)

They understood my land line is down, and my smartphone has no cell service, so agreed to either call up to my window, or turn on the siren for a few seconds, once they arrive. The four times I called 911, they were all quite nice and professional…except one who just shunted me over to the police department, where no one answered the phone. I guess because of all the political brouhaha now going on with the right-wing riots in D.C….activists and marches, etc.
Adding to the difficulty with keeping a line open to 911 is they couldn’t use my now-dead land line number, nor could call me back via my non-cell-service smartphone!

So I then climbed back up the stairs, where the manager Kevin was speaking with Dieter. I interrupted to tell Dieter the cops were finally on their way. Then I looked towards the manager, and said should I tell Kevin?

“Not necessary,” he replied, “I already told him.”

Well, Kevin was totally nonplussed when I explained how I’ve been helping Deek with the doggies through the cold weather and rains, but I’ve never seen him act so crazy as he is today. That I don’t want to return the pups to him, because he’s an animal abuser, and they’ll probably die. And they’re such sweet pups, I added.

“They aren’t to me!” quipped Kevin, but I just waved it away by telling him that was because he was thump-thumping a trash bin down the stairs when we stepped out and into the hallway…that they’re actually very quiet! I also mentioned I’ll probably be moving soon in two or three months, because I have a very lucrative publishing contract in the works. Which, BTW, is called “Brindlekin Tales” and is all about my adventures with Deek and the doggies. (I know, Tara, I’m really hedging my bets to a dangerous extent here, but what the hey, I believe in my destiny!)

I also told him to feel free to call 911 over Deek, whenever you deem it necessary, but I think he has enough sense to stay off this side of the street…and I’ll do my best to keep him at bay.

Upon returning hovel (finally! I was starving ’cause Deek’s drama disrupted everything, so I hadn’t had even breakfast yet and it was well after three o’clock) I heard My Nutty Bodhisattva screeching from the other side of reality:

“C’mon down, let’s strike a deal!”

Turned out he was willing to give up the dogs for $300. Interesting, I thought, that he didn’t say four hundred, per his original price. Though since I coughed up an extra hundred for him this morning, I guess he was respecting that as part of the four hundred. (A hint, mind you, that this is all an act put on by a bodhisattva par excellence…as it strikes me that a REAL tweaker would insist on the original four hundred!)

Anyway, I told him I need a witness, and it has to be Boulevard Joe. Well, he kicked up a stink and refused. So I said how about a video recording our agreement? He said no to that, too, so I said well then, you’re not gonna get the money, and started to walk away. But he finally caved in…so I returned hovel where the sweet little brindlekin were happily minding their own business, relaxing on my bed as usual. What patient canine souls! They of course greeted me with a quizzical stare that said: “What on earth is going on, Zeke?” I pet them both and told them to be patient awhile longer, I’ll be back really soon.

The best I could get regarding a solid contract, is this video which I uploaded only moments ago:

And here is a brief prequel I shot on the sly, taken just moments before he agreed to be recorded, and eleven minutes before the contract was made firm:

Talk about a drama queen…or speaking from the bodhisattva trickster perspective, a “melodrama” queen! He looks quite the wreck, BTW. But knowing this is just one of his finest Jewish Homeless Princess scenarios he’s ever performed here in the Castro (and maybe anywhere else), I am not particularly stressed out over any further nonsense from his corner.

Of course, after the deal was done, he ranted on about how I’m probably a pervert letting the dogs lick me all over my body, and that he’s heard people say all sorts of bad things about me, and how he has a lot of his buddies watching me. I retorted that I have enemies who badmouth me all the time, and I’m sorry he’s chosen to stand on the wrong side of Castro history, and that he wouldn’t believe how many of MY comrades are watching HIM! I was not the least perturbed by his ugly accusations, because I knew it was yet another challenge from My Cajun Bodhisattva, of how well or not I could handle my temper. Indeed, I handled it very well, wouldn’t you say?

Upon returning to my room, I dialed 911 once more, to cancel my emergency, explaining to them we had struck a deal with a three-hundred dollar trade, and I have it all on video, and that should he ever harass and threaten me again, I’ll sic the cops after him. Oh, yeah, I DID pull my “I-have-your-social-security-number-and-with-that-could-really-mess-up-your-life” card, as well as threaten to report him as a deadbeat dad to Louisiana authorities, and I know where to find him. He simply shrugged his shoulders, said he’s been through worse.

• Zeke

PS: I really needed that $300 to help the doggies out, especially with their surprise appetite loss. Why is this happening all at once? Deek’s insanity, dogs stopped eating, total wipeout of my stimulus money in less than 24 hours (plus an extra $100 from my slim Social Security budget), and dead land line when I need to call 911? Methinks the bodhisattva forces are working overtime! My faith remains strong, puppy love is in my heart, always.

---

---

ADDENDUM

Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
From: Tara Roosevelt
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: January 7, 2021 7:51 PM

However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted.

Yep, right-wing radio and TV is going wild with the disinfo. The mobs were”Antifa.” They were “hired by Democrats.” It was all “staged.” The bit about assassinating the president is rich; they’re carrying Trump flags, Confederate flags, one of them was photographed wearing a an Auschwitz t-shirt. The irony is that they were there trying to halt the electoral college certification; they did stop it, but only for a few hours. When Congress resumed, which they did, several Repukes who were going to vote to hold things up had suddenly changed their minds. So the effect was that the certification happened much more smoothly and expeditiously than it would have if not for the riots. Meanwhile, Trump and Pence are now mortal enemies. Trump goes out with a bang AND a whimper.

---

Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: January 7, 2021 8:43 PM

Oh, Jesus. Interesting to actually lay eyes on him.

Not his best moment, by a long shot.

He looks to be in fairly dire shape. Not that I have much basis for comparison. But he seems shaky, unstable. How I hope he just lets you keep the doggies in peace.

He usually looks MUCH better than he does today. Oh, he’ll let me keep the doggies in peace…after all I have my bodyguards who work the Hohokum Smoke Shop to keep him off my block. The manager of my building also knows about it now, and he may have some neighborhood clout. And, once my New Year’s Parody gets distributed tomorrow in the Duboce Quadrangle News, a lot more locals will check out my Brindlekin Tales, and learn about my situation with Deek and the doggies. Because in the introduction to my piece, is included a link to the Brindlekin section of my WordPress blog! Also, I’ve uploaded those two videos to Youtube, as well as shared ’em on Facebook and Twitter. One or both just MAY go viral!

I just uploaded my latest Brindlekin chapter (18) which is called “The Doggies are Now Mine!” And it’s all about today’s disgusting fiasco, and includes those two videos towards the bottom of that tale.

Are they eating yet???????

Hardly. Wiley accepted a small serving of chicken, but Taco still turns down everything. Not sure if he’s even drinking water, but I’m watching. Wiley has been drinking. Oh, and Taco threw up, but it looked pretty harmless, just clear fluid and two tiny bits of chicken. He also had diarrhea when he pooped this afternoon. Yet, they remain cheerful and active as ever, play-fighting and being affection. They continue to look sparkly, healthy and joyful. I give them plenty of hugs and scritches, and they don’t act especially needy to receive them…just the usual loving rapport. It may very well be lack of exercise killing their appetite, which is known to happen in dogs. So I really have no choice but to get them to a safe area tomorrow, where they can run about to the point of happy exhaustion. Then we’ll see if their appetite (hopefull) picks up. But this may also be their estrangement from Deek, even though they don’t seem the least bit worried or sad. Dogs get very attached to their owners, even the abusive ones.

GOOD NEWS: My GoFundMe first withdrawal just arrived in the sum of $387.20. I will open a second account now, and transfer that entire amount to it, minus the $60 spent on three roast chicken orders, because I am reimbursing myself for a doggie expense. My GFM amount is only $400, so only $13 left to spend, beyond what I’ve aleady withdrawn. Hopefully, once the Duboce Quadrangle News publishes my tale with the link to my Brindlekin Tales page, many locals will check it out, and they’ll see my GoFundme appeal right there on top! And more donations will come rolling in.

CONCLUSION: This is all an amazing adventure, which Deek has assisted in creating in a MAJOR way. He is no threat, Tara…he’s one of my brilliant guardians who gladly makes personal sacrifices in order to turn me into a hero. And I believe there are many other bodhisattvas here in the Castro, who know all about me, and ready to catapult me to fame. If I’m deluded, this is the most incredible delusion one could ever have! Sleep well, my most kind and intelligent ally…I truly wish that for you!