The FINAL Final Chapter (part 9)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 18i]

Subject: Dogs are back, Deek is kewl.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 2, 2022 11:07 AM

Delivered the pups to me an hour ago, along with a smartphone and small speaker to charge. Said he’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick up his electronics. He’s been surprisingly calm and stable of late, much to my relief…more for the sake of Flaco & Lucky than my own peace. His mood has been mostly UPBEAT for the past several weeks. He was even HILARIOUS three days back, when I returned his furry charges:

“I’m gonna be a millionaire!” he called to me from twenty feet away (I had just turned about, on my way to Rosenberg’s). “Me and my people are gonna release a rap album this year!”

He then pointed at his sternum, above which hung a heavy, gold and silver medallion from a chain necklace. Like an albatross, I thought. “See this? It’s very expensive!”

“Uh, okay,” I said, still half asleep, for he had gotten me out of bed with his early arrival. “Can I get my coffee now?”

“And this! It’s very expensive, too!” This time he had pulled up his shirt and jacket to expose his skinny waist and belly button, revealing a chunky belt buckle studded with rhinestones in the shape of a human skull.

I’m sure BOTH items didn’t cost him more than ten dollars each (if that; maybe he got them in trade, or found them while rummaging for recyclables)…but why argue? Instead, I just rolled my eyes and raised my arms in desperate appeal:

“Can I get my coffee NOW, please?” I repeated.

“Okay, you can go!” he called back, and so I did. Just wish I still had a working pair of spyglasses to capture that exuberant, picaresque display on video. He was colorfully attired with a bandana bound about his head, and a multicolored, puffy jacket.

The pooches are totally zonked out now, after enjoying half their breakfast, and the rude interruption of a fire engine screaming by. Two new videos:


Subject: Dogs gone then back, same day.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 5, 2022 1:49 PM

This was yesterday. Six fukkin AM he called up to me, to pick up the pups…claiming he told me the other day he’s gonna retrieve ’em early. He most certainly did NOT. But I remained calm, brought them downstairs, and returned with his latest Bluetooth speaker, which was narrow and vertical, and lighter in weight than it appears…thus a cheap battery. He also gave me a 32GB SD card so I could copy his entire rap collection to it. He made up some excuse that his “people” wanted to see the dogs, as they haven’t for quite awhile. The truth is probably more like he wants to panhandle, and the cute pooches rake in da moolah.

I then went back to bed for awhile longer, thinking I wouldn’t be further disturbed but, a bit later jackhammers went off across the street. So I gave up and stepped out for my morning java. As I returned hovel, glad that the construction work nearby had ceased…here came Deek again:

“Can you do me a REALLY big favor?”

I cut him off: “No, it’s about money, ya gotta wait till Sunday, Deek.”

This was a repeat of two days ago when he griped about “just” getting $40 last Thursday, instead of collecting a whopping $100 in one lump sum. Our arrangement has ALWAYS been $40 on Thursday, $60 Sunday. He whined about not being able to buy nice things (like a hundred-dollar speaker he’ll lose in less than ten days) because the weekly allowance is split in two. I told him sorry, but that’s how it is, stop trying to scam me. He was not particularly drama-queenish about it, but accepted my rebuttal without putting up a fuss.

But this was another day.

“I need ten dollah right now, I owe someone, and he’s right over there!” he persisted.

I looked down the block to see about twenty feet away and crouched on the curb, a homeless dude with close-cropped black hair and neatly dressed. A regular in the Castro, as I’ve spotted him many times, over the past few years. And most likely harmless, as I’ve never seen him act out in anger or any other bizarre way. He nodded at me. I concluded that Deek wants to purchase a dime bag, IOW has nothing to do with clearing a debt…unless he already accepted a packet of crystal moments earlier. Jeez, I just wanted a quiet start to the day, but no. Now I had to march on down to my bank and withdraw two Lincolns, while my coffee was turning cold upstairs!

“Okay, Deek,” I replied in exasperation, “but fuck you. And get the dogs away from the entrance, please, so I can close the gate.”

Deek had brought the poor doggies to the front gate, where they restlessly scratched the inside doors to gain entry. I don’t like when their master does that, as it’s a tease, since he has no intention of letting them visit me. And I’ve told him numerous times to keep them away from that area, if he doesn’t want them over…just wait for me at the corner.

So off I went, pissed, to squeeze a coupla bills from the mechanical Moloch three blocks away. Upon returning, I saw he had the pups’ leashes flung over a bicycle handlebar by their loops. So of course when I approached, they pulled forward and the bike flopped over…almost smashing down upon the brindlekin but for their quick reflexes. I had hollered at Deek to stop the bike from falling, as he was just two feet away from it…but he didn’t respond, as if he were deaf, fussing instead with something in his hands…and I couldn’t rush there fast enough to allay a possible tragedy.

I reprimanded him, and advised him to lay the bike down on the sidewalk first, before lashing the pups to it. He simply mumbled “okay,” which lackluster reply indicated he was unlikely to keep that in mind. (Infuriating and frightening!) The moment I handed him the cash, he passed it on to his pop-up vendor, who then arose from where he was seated and walked towards Noe Street, wishing us both a lovely rest of the day.

After all his pointless disturbances that woke me from a restful sleep and played out for almost an hour, I was TRULY ready to return upstairs. But first I stared directly at Deek for a few moments until he said:

“What?”

“IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I CAN DO FOR YOU,” I hollered with no holding back. “IS EVERYTHING TO YOUR SATISFACTION, CAN I GO BACK HOME NOW WITH YOUR PROMISE TO LEAVE ME IN PEACE FOR A FEW HOURS?”

A quivery grin crossed his face, as if he were about to burst forth in a paroxism of guffaws. In fact, that grin was there since he showed up at my window. “The dude’s been playing with me,” I concluded to no one but my own distraught self. “All along!”

Meanwhile, the pooches just sat there by the bike, calm and poised as can be, no worries in the world. They were used to Deek’s outbursts, so I guess they can handle mine, too, with equally gracious panache.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, followed by an even wider grin and a repressed guffaw as he turned to sort some stuff in a bag and tie it to the bike.

I then bent down to give the dogs a few more pats, hugs and loving words, before advancing towards the front gate.

“Wait a minute!” Deek called out. “Ya got that lighter?”

I forgot he had also requested that, and I had placed a Bic in my pocket before returning downstairs with a fresh supply of doggy vittles.

“Oh, yeah, here ya go,” I said, and tossed it to him. I knew he wouldn’t settle for a book of matches, as they are a highly ineffective way to heat up the bowl of a glass pipe. Which I’m sure he was eager to do, once he found a cozy spot somewhere nearby, where he could park himself and dogs in relative comfort, and dream his hazy dreams.

I then returned to my hovel where I could FINALLY relax in quiet to enjoy my coffee and listen to another true tale of horror I downloaded from Killer Orange Cat’s channel last night. And SO glad I have a microwave at hand to reheat that golden brown elixir from Rosenberg’s!

He returned the evening of that same day, handed the pups over to my care, said thanks for everything, and off he went. I called back to him as he bicycled into the dark beyond: “Thank you too, Deek!” And off we three scurried upstairs for another puppilicious pajama party and a blissful night’s slumber. I am more dog than man. Arf!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Dogs gone then back, same day.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 5, 2022 3:38 PM

> What a story! Woof!

All my writing, my creative output, has gone TOTALLY to the dogs. And I see everything GOOD in that.

> If there’s one thing in this world I DO NOT TOLERATE, it’s people rudely/carelessly interrupting my precious sleep. I wake with a sword in my hand!

Deek is the kind of person who nods off easily, wherever, whenever. And has NO understanding for those whose sleep is often problematic. Before he departed yesterday morning, after collecting ten dollars, he said, “Now you can go back to bed.” After rousting me out of a deep sleep and being a nuisance for almost an hour, I am NOT the kind of person who can just crash back out! But since HE can, he thinks EVERYONE can, so what’s my problem? Even if I KNEW he was gonna drop by around 6 AM, that ALONE would make it difficult for me to get a good night’s rest. I tried explaining this to him, once (about not everyone can sleep as well as he does) but, like most everything else I tell him: in one auricle and out the other! So all I said to him this time around, was:

“No I can’t.”

His illiteracy about good health is not just infuriating, but DANGEROUS for the pups! He has no concept regarding their need for regular, uninterrupted sleep every single day, traipsing about the city all night long, with Flaco & Lucky wide awake, in tow. They crash out only when HE crashes out, which is often during parts of the afternoon. Granted, whenever he parks somewhere to just hang out, he gives the pooches SOME refuge for sleep.

He also has ZILCH concept about healthy eating…has no idea about nutrition, what vitamins, minerals, proteins, etc. are! Food is all the same to him, most of which he procures from cheap marts like 7-11 or gas stations with a convenience section…or from free meal services that usually slap together two slices of white bread with some baloney in the middle. So long as his tummy isn’t grumbling for sustenance, he’s good to go. He doesn’t know ALL the food items dogs shouldn’t eat, some of which can make them VERY sick, and even KILL them. He does have a brief list in his mind, of CERTAIN foods they can’t eat, such as chocolate, onions and bread…but there are dangerous HOLES in his knowledge of a safe and healthy canine diet. And trying to educate him on this matter (like every OTHER matter I bring up) is like trying to pull a tusk out of an elephant’s jaw!

I’ve seen him feed his dogs by dumping a can of food, or a small pile of kibble, right on the dirty sidewalk. Though I hope he doesn’t do that any more, as I’ve advised him many moons ago, to use something clean for a bowl, such as a paper bag flattened out, thick sheets of newspaper, or a clean piece of corrugated cardboard. Or maybe just a plastic bag or two, laid on the ground. The several times I’ve seen him feed them, when he’s by my building, he’s done just that.

Imagine if you had a housemate as clueless about nutrition as Deek, and you had a severe peanut allergy, but he thought it was all in your head, didn’t believe a word of it. (“How could delicious FOOD ever be poisonous?”) So one day he cooks up a sumptuous gourmet meal for ya, with finely ground up peanuts in the sauce, gravy or dressing…intending to show just how deluded you were, by declaring with utter confirmation that there is NO peanut product in this meal, anywhere. He was SURE he’d have the last laugh, but instead winds up dialing 911 for an ambulance.

I worry more about the dogs getting sick or dying, than I do about him. Though THAT would be a tragic outcome as well, as the pups might be absconded to an unknown destination before I could get to them first. I’d never see them again!

I live with this hanging over my head every single friggin day…except when they’re with me! These two dogs are my BEST FRIENDS OF ALL TIME, INTERSPECIES SOULMATES as I like to say…they’re not “just dogs” as some heartless pinheads would moronically declare.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Kevin’s Odious Behavior
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 8, 2022 2:41 PM

Yesterday afternoon as I bumbled down the stairs with the pups frolicking before me (first Lucky attacked the cuff of my denims with a firm, sharp-toothed grip, then tumbled with his sister, twisting the leashes together which I hastily unraveled), Lucky began to bark soon as we turned the corner on the final landing. Indicating that someone was in the lobby, though it appeared empty. Whoever it was, was therefore lingering by the elevator: the blind-spot wedge of the lobby that can’t be viewed until you almost reach the tiled floor…see pic.

Click here for a larger view.

So instead of releasing the pups, I kept them on a short leash as I proceeded down the last few steps. It was the building manager, Kevin, standing by the Simplex fire alarm panel, perhaps checking its status, or maybe just standing in a corner absentmindedly wondering how he got there, or even where he was.

“SHUUUT UP!” he addressed the mutts in a harsh tone while I guided them by the opposite wall. They completely ignored his rude demand, and stopped barking soon as they reached the heavy, glass paneled doors. He spoke those two words with shocking hostility, then added: “I don’t appreciate it, Zeke, this is my home!”

As I scooted them through the lobby and outside, I quickly retorted in a cheerful manner: “They hardly EVER bark indoors, they’re sweet doggies, and it’s only five seconds of noise up or down the stairs, once in awhile. Otherwise they’re quiet as a church mouse, they’re just excited to get to the park.” And having said that, I disappeared out the door, not caring to suffer his abusive words any further. You’d think he would’ve learned a thing or two, after that drawn out debacle last year with former neighbors Myrtle and her punk-shit son. After all, I WON that conflict hands down (in which Kevin willfully participated against me) and The Two suddenly moved out like they’d seen a ghost.

You’d THINK he’d show some kindness to the dogs…after all, they are NO problem other than what Kevin chooses to turn INTO one. And any resident who directs hostility towards them, could make them feel less welcome. Though I think Deek’s notorious temper tantrums to which they appear emotionally IMMUNE, benefits them in regards to anyone ELSE who projects hostility. They are truly happy little souls…and with a thick skin, thank Artemis.

As for his declaration that this is his home…what a loaded remark! For one, it’s MY home, too, and far longer than it’s been his, by decades. Though the good part I get out of this, is he only said he doesn’t “appreciate” it, indicating he knows there’s nothing he can really do to thwart my doggy visits. I would think not, considering I have ironclad PROOF of his unwarranted harassment against me, both via video and a hostile letter he taped to my door and SIGNED. Not to mention my letter of complaint to Ablahblah Realty.

There is also that recent notice I and other residents have received, about grievances against Kevin’s management, written by another who’s lived here for some time…coupled with certain long-term prejudices he’s held for most of his life. Such as against low-income lefties like myself, and the homeless. So I KNOW it’s not just a personal conflict between THIS monk-like recluse and the manager, but more likely encroaching senility due to his advanced age. I just don’t care to be one of his collateral damages as he continues to decline, thus GLAD others are witnessing his disturbing behavior as well. Certainly, my battle with Myrtle and son has exacerbated his antagonism towards me. In sum, Wattson:

I don’t think this is going to end well…for HIM that is. And I wonder how that will bear down upon my quasi-fascist neighbor Moe, who’s chosen to be Kevin’s ally in all things “Zeke.” Not well for him, either, I presume. I just hope the NEXT manager is better than previous ones. I do NOT need any further hostility extended upon me in my “golden” years, please!

[My Deek Update coming up, later today…hard to keep up with all the challenges and changes coming in fast and thick, while turning it into worthy prose at the same time.]

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: I'd like to make an appointment for a homeless friend.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Pop-Up Clinic for Homeless Pets
Date: February 6, 2022 11:37 AM

He doesn't own a cell phone, and has two little doggies in his care, who often stay with me during the bad weather. I told him I'd contact your service, and set up an appointment. It's been a struggle to convince him to get his pups regular veterinarian checkups. He said he'd prefer an afternoon appointment, if at all possible. Do you also provide booster rabies and other shots? If you schedule him in any time for a few days from now, to a few weeks, I can make sure he doesn't forget to show up. I also need to know your location. His name is Deek, and his dogs are Lucky and La Flaca. Thank you!

--

Re: Subject: I'd like to make an appointment for a homeless friend.
From: Pop-Up Clinic for Homeless Pets
To: Zeke Krahlin
Date: Tue, Feb 8, 2022 12:36 PM

Hello,

I can save him a slot for our next clinic on March 14th. The latest slot available on that day is 1:35. Does that day and time work for him? This appointment guarantees him a visit but there will likely still be a wait once he gets there. We can give vaccines as well as do physical exams during the appointment. The clinic is held at the SF SPCA parking lot.

--

Re: I'd like to make an appointment for a homeless friend.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Pop-Up Clinic for Homeless Pets
Date: February 8, 2022 8:44 PM

March 14th at 1:35 PM sounds fantastic! I will do my best to make sure he shows up. Thanks immensely.

Subject: Latest Deek Update (tons of good news)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 9, 2022 at 12:22 PM

Let’s see, this update covers the last several days. Most important point is that he’s been having the pups stay with me far more often than ever, due to his admission (at last) that the nights are rather cold. “Of course,” I replied, “we’re still in the middle of winter!”

The next evening he brought up the pregnancy issue again:

“I don’t believe in spaying,” he absurdly stated. “I still plan to make her pregnant. I know someone who made a thousand dollars on each dog.”

Well, Wattson, as you can imagine I bubbled over with outrage…however, kept THAT emotion to myself and calmly reiterated what I have previously, at least two times over the past year. How he’s being selfish, not caring about Flaco’s well-being, that it’s cruel to turn her into a puppy mill, that he probably couldn’t sell the puppies anyway, and that they’d most likely die, as could Flaco…how’s he gonna pay for their shots, the SPCA would most likely charge him with animal abuse and take ALL his dogs away, etc. etc. etc.

What is remarkable about this latest pregnancy talk, is he actually LISTENED instead of screaming me down. He DID walk away from me, back and forth with hands pressed against his ears, saying “I don’t wanna hear this!” But he was much more SEDATE in his opposition, and I spoke firmly without raising my voice. He backed off from his puppy-mill plan by claiming he’d KEEP four puppies for himself…so of course I strongly countered with how could he handle the responsibility and expense, it would just be a miserable life for them all, and he could easily be reported to Animal Control and go to jail for breeding dogs on the street. Again, he didn’t explode in a temper tantrum like he did in past arguments.

Another evening when the doggies had stayed with me yesterday and overnight, Deek came by to pick up his electronics and said he might come back later to pick up the dogs, though he wasn’t sure. An hour later I decided to take them for their late-night walk earlier than usual, in order to avoid Deek seeing them outside as I returned, which could make him decide to take them back sooner than I’d like. Yet sure enough, soon as I returned from our stroll, there was Deek waiting by the bus stop. I released the dogs to run up to him with happy, wagging tails, and he said (just as I feared):

“Now that I see them, I’ll take them off your hands. I love these dogs.”

I decided then to reprimand him, claiming that if he loves them so much, he wouldn’t put them in harm’s way by risking a bicycle crashing upon them. What he then said shocked me: “Well, they’d better get out of the way!”

“No, YOU better get the BIKE out of the way!” I shot back. “Just lay it on its side before you lash them to it. It’s almost as if you set them up by tying them to a standing bike, so you’d have the perfect excuse to yell at them when they tug on their leashes and bring it down.”

He didn’t respond, just listened with lowered head, so I elaborated: “It is SHAMEFUL and disgusting that you would INTENTIONALLY place these innocent little doggies who give you so much joy, in a dangerous situation that you can EASILY prevent! That’s not love, that’s just plain SICK! And HEARTBREAKING!”

He then muttered: “Don’t tell ME how to raise dogs, I’ve done it all my life!”

“If that’s true then why do you NOT lay the bike down first, to protect them,” I countered. “I’ve also witnessed you yell at them MANY times, for no reason. And also force them to lie down on the dirty sidewalk, or freeze through very cold nights. That’s not RAISING dogs, that’s abusing them!”

Again, he remained silent and just listened. And again, I elaborated:

“If you truly love them, you’d already be taking them to a vet twice a year, for checkups and booster shots. I’ll be MORE than glad to make an appointment to do just that.”

To my delight he said okay, so I asked if he’d prefer the morning or afternoon…he chose the latter. I have since contacted Vet SOS via email, and have set him up for 1:35 PM, March 14th. I’ve already forwarded that info to you, via my Gmail account. I’ve programmed both my laptop and smartphone to remind me two weeks, one week, three days and one day in advance. And I will GO WITH Deek to the clinic, for both support and to make sure I get documented proof of their rabies shots, and the tags are on their collars.

Another day I discovered how to successfully keep Lucky from barking at a passerby or their dog, since shoving a treat under his nose doesn’t work. Most of the time he gives fair warning by suddenly stopping and staring at whomever is approaching. At which moment I crouch down, lightly hold onto the collar while scratching his neck and saying in a calm but firm voice, several times: “No barking now, be nice!” And I only stand up again once the target has passed by, and reward him with a “good dog” seal of approval for not going commando. Flaco is not the one who predatorily barks, so no need to train her, too. She simply joins in if Lucky keeps it up.

But Lucky doesn’t ALWAYS bark at an approaching pedestrian or dog, and there’s no predicting which ones he’ll choose to confront, and which ones he won’t. Sometimes he WON’T give any warning, but just suddenly lash out…though fortunately, that’s infrequent. Though I’m sure if I keep up my neck-scritching method, he’ll eventually lose interest in being so aggressive.

Since Deek keeps griping how Lucky barks and lunges too much, I told him yesterday morning that I finally discovered a method that really works. After explaining how I do that, I pointed out that yelling does no good because dogs will just get more excited, thinking you’re barking WITH them. And you’re just adding to the cacophony while accomplishing nothing.

“Besides which,” I added, “Using fear or anger in training a dog is both needless and cruel.”

Again, he bristled with his “don’t tell ME how to raise a dog” spiel, and, again, I reiterated my counterargument that I made two days before. To my happy surprise, once more he didn’t go into drama-queen mode over my stolid opposition. Though I DID state that so long as they’re living on the streets, Lucky’s likely to play Tasmanian devil more often in his presence, than when they’re with me.

“They’re just trying to protect you, Deek, as best they know how,” I said. “Furthermore, you have to watch him closely in order to catch him before he starts to bark, but you’re often busy pushing the cart with them right behind and out of sight. But at least you know what works.”

Deek seems to have listened to my arguments with respect, and he even said to me when I returned the pups yesterday (and in a kind voice) that he promises to treat them with loving care from now on. Not that he used those exact words, but that’s what it came down to.

Well that’s it for now, good physician. Glad to report so much happy news in my latest Brindlekin exploits.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: My Noisy Mornings (2 brief videos)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 11, 2022 at 9:40 AM

First video (49 secs.):

Imagine waking up to THIS every morning! Been going on for more than two weeks, so far. This is right in front of my building.

Second video (11 secs.):

Noisy street construction extends across the street from my building. I already walked the dogs through this cloud of noise pollution (that was no fun), and now I’m stepping out for my morning cup of java to-go. Don’t know how many more days I’m gonna have to put up with this!

Re: My Noisy Mornings (2 brief videos)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 11, 2022 at 1:54 PM

> Hellish.

Not really…one thing Satan won’t tolerate is noise pollution, due to her hypersensitive ear canals typical of that species, Diabolicus angelicus. She has therefore acoustically constructed each circle of hell to absorb all sounds except her own voice and that of her assistants, when so commanded to speak.

In hell, just as in outer space, no one can hear you scream. Which explains why Hieronymous Bosch’s infamous painting of that accursed realm remains utterly silent, though many subjects’ mouths are wide open in agonizing postures. Place an ear close to the canvas (if you ever have the rare good fortune to be allowed to do so, which first requires you to sign your soul over to the devil, among numerous OTHER abominable prerequisites), and you’ll hear not a peep coming out of it. They may have mouths, but they can’t scream…maybe it’s the vocal cords that are missing? Harlan Ellison had it ALMOST right.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I thought it would make a funny touch to throw Deek into the mix, as he WAS right downstairs and sound asleep. Told you he can snooze through ANYthing! Obviously, he was parked down there as it was still early, around 8:30 AM, and I told him I prefer to be left alone until 10 or so. As I like to get up in peace and quiet, take the pups for a walk, enjoy my coffee and then feed ’em. And I never know whenever Deek shows up, if he’s gonna implode into yet another pointless tantrum…which is NOT how I care to start the day. Such disruption gives me anxiety attacks, as do loud noises waking me out of a deep, comfy sleep. Yet the jackhammers and concrete grinders have blown all that angst-free peace right outta the water, commencing as they do, shortly after 7 AM.

I have read years ago in Men’s Health Magazine, that NYC and SF vie for first place every year, in the top-10 list of America’s most noise-polluted cities. I believe it! But can you imagine, a much SMALLER city as this is, right up there with a megalopolis in the noise category? Three Bronx cheers for San FranSHITSco…Bag-Dad by the Bay (as in hobo daddy types, scruffy beard and all)!


Subject: Deek just called me from his phone, for the first time!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 11, 2022 at 7:50 PM

He recently acquired a smartphone with cell service, so when I charged it for him, I also put my own number on it, along with Vet SOS…without telling him. To my surprise, he actually called me tonight, just a moment ago. Can you figure what the call was about? Hint: it’s quite predictable.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek just called me from his phone, for the first time!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 11, 2022 at 9:33 PM

> Golly, let me think….um, uh….oh, yeah! Can he have his allowance early?

You should start your own psychic network, Wattson…you’re a mindreader!

This is what I get for putting my number on his device! I could kick myself.

He called to ask for $50 tonight, to purchase another Bluetooth speaker, since it turned out the one he just got ain’t functioning. I calmly said, no, it’s not life or death, you can pick up your Sunday allowance tomorrow, a day early. To my surprise he gently replied, “Well, okay. I just won’t be able to buy it tommorrow, it’ll be gone by then.”

I reflected on his polite handling of my rejection, and how he agreed a few days ago to take the pups to Vet SOS for a checkup and rabies booster shot, and thought, oh, it’s only two days till Sunday, and he’s making great strides…and I’d rather see him waste half a hundred on a speaker, than a full hundred like he did for his birthday. So I called him back and said sure, just drop on by. “Did you check the speaker to be sure it’s working?” I asked. He said “Yeah, it’s good. I’ll drop by in a bit.” But guess what?

Well over two hours have passed, and he has yet to show up! I COULD call him back, but I don’t see the point in doing so.

> Maybe from now on (or as long as he has that phone) he can call you instead of yelling up at your window!

Why bother? He’ll lose the phone in another day or two, like he always does. BTW I’ve adjusted his allowance to $50 twice a week, instead of $60/40. His request some days back for a hundred dollars once a week is ridiculous, because after the first payment he’ll be asking for an advance every mid-week, and it’ll be just like paying him in two parts, anyway! So he can get, what: a hundred dollar speaker every week, and spend nothing on the pups? I don’t think he spends anything on them, as it is.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: mini UPDATE
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 12, 2022 at 9:50 PM

So much going on, I can’t keep up! Will fill you on over the next two or three days. Meanwhile, some high points:

– Elderly straight couple moving into this building admired the pups, laughed as they barked up a storm while I guided them into my hovel. They’re not on my floor, so either on the 3rd or 4th.

– Another new resident, Aaron (says he moved in last month) very friendly, introduced himself and in our hallway conversation, revealed he’s quite progressive and pro-homeless, interested in being friends. He’s a gay refugee from a Christo-fascist family back in Ohio.

– Deek now sets his bike on the side, before lashing Flaco and Lucky to it…I’m VERY pleased over this, as I would’ve continued to burn his soul with the flames of my tongue, otherwise.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: mini UPDATE
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 13, 2022 at 11:03 AM

> I guess his flare-ups subside pretty quickly.

Yes, thank god…and they occur with far less frequency than in the past. I hate it when my hand is forced to confront him about his behavior, because that’s guaranteed to make him explode…and the pups are in the middle of this. To my chagrin, you sometimes can’t get him to change a dangerous habit without raking him over the coals (and several times at that). IOW, he pushes you right to the edge, and soft words get no results, or even firm words if they are not with fury. So this time around, this bicycle leashing where the dogs could get injured, was the straw that broke my camel’s back. I have brought this up to him NUMEROUS times, but in one ear and out the other, until I showed my fangs.

> Plus he’s not about to give up his weekly allowance. Which I know you do for the sake of the little angels.

Exactly.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Another sleepover with the pups so soon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 13, 2022 at 8:29 PM

Deek dropped by a coupla hours ago, handed over the doggies to my tender care. When I stepped out I was delighted to see the bicycle set down on its side, with Flaco & Lucky tethered to it. Lucky gave me a robust “Woof!” in greeting. And, of course, Flaco was SO happy to see me again, so soon. Deek released them from their leashes and let them tumble about on the sidewalk, charming everyone who passed by.

Very pleased to see Deek so nicely dressed in a red parka, black jeans and a comfortable pair of chunky hiking shoes. Didn’t look the least bit houseless. His bike (this time around) was a sleek, brushed aluminum “Mamhattan Bullet.” Very sexy and art-deco-ish. He had very good manners, I can’t believe it’s the same Deek.

I must’ve burnt the hell out of him the other night, with my excoriation. The little darlins are now sound asleep, and I’m thrilled to have them here once more.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Another sleepover with the pups so soon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 13, 2022 at 10:01 PM

> Yay!!!!!

Dogs make life worth living…greatest lesson of my life…you need look no further. Deek brought these pups into my world, because he knew how happy they’d make me…the Cajun rapscallion! That’s why he’s been bringing them over so frequently these past few weeks.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Deek So Mellow!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 15, 2022 at 10:01 PM

He just picked up the pups and collected Sunday’s allowance today. Still has that Manhattan Bullet bike, and still nicely dressed in that red parka and black jeans and hiking shoes. He made a point of thanking me, TWICE, to which I answered each time: “It’a a pleasure and an honor.” Deek seems to be in a more stable frame of mind these past few days…behaves respectfully and actually listens to my suggestions. I think my tearing into him four days ago–about tying the dogs to the bike in a dangerous manner–put him through some changes.

Plump, bright, pale full moon ascending in the twilit sky. See attached pic, shot from my window, right above where Deek and brindlekin are kicking back for now.

Click here fir a larger view.

Subject: Space Blankets: why didn’t I think of that?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 15, 2022 at 10:38 PM

One of Deek’s friends is also named Deek, who was downstairs with Deek #1 when I stepped out to bring a box to keep the doggies warm. Well, whaddya know, Wattson, but Deek #1 had them on a nest of old-but-clean jackets and sweaters, and covered with a space blanket! They looked really happy in their tiny haven, making crinkling noises as they poked their schnozzes out to greet me. (They’re so cute, no matter what they do!)

“Deek brought me this space blanket!” said my Deek.

That’s a perfect solution for keeping the pups warm through cold nights, as they’re cheap, highly portable and disposable, unlike conventional blankets, sleeping bags and comforters. I can get a pack of 4 for $11:

Click here for Amazon link.

They’re also waterproof. I can also get THIS for Deek:

Click here for Amazon link.

Not only can he sleep in it, but walk around in it, too! Ordering tomorrow.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Didn’t know if Deek would throw a fit when I decided bring a box for the pups, as he’s done before. However, he was quite amenable this time around, said he doesn’t need it right now, just leave it with him, he’ll use it later. NO DRAMA, HUZZAH!


Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Boy did I sleep well last night!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 16, 2022 at 1:32 PM

And that was because I knew the pups would be kept warm, and there’d be no more lashing them to an upright, wobbly bike. After so many, many months (over two years, in fact) of excruciating worry, I have reached the point of a sane and caring resolution.

Enclosed pic shows the scruffy condition of my floor after so many frequent visits of the brindlekin, when Deek didn’t give me enough time between, to shake out the rugs and replace the newspaper. Not that I couldn’t do that while the pups were here, but I don’t like the stress of getting everything in order ASAP, like a robot. I’m not a Roomba, I’m a goombah. Also, the disarray is a lingering sign of all the doggy joy that caused it, so I prefer to let it remain for a day or two.

There were several other street folks hanging out with Deek in that ATM nook last night…all were peaceful, and so quiet I couldn’t hear them through my window only 12 feet above. Besides gifting the pooches with a space blanket, Deek #2 also brought two large bags of frozen meals from Open Hands, and suggested I take some. Good quality vittles, BTW. Sadly, I had to turn him down, as my pantry and fridge are already well stocked. And they were partially thawed out by then, so I couldn’t just pop ’em in the freezer. But it was a sweet gesture! BTW Deek #2 is no longer without a roof, but has a room at the Civic Center Hotel, which is a well-run residency specifically for getting vagrants off the street. It’s even pet friendly!

Not that Flaco & Lucky being forced to live on the streets isn’t still a worry, but the odds for their safety are now stacked in their favor, thanks to Deek’s newfound cooperation.

I was planning to email you just the portion above, but three intriguing incidents occurred before its completion:

1) Shortly after I arose from my cot after sleeping in till 9:30 AM, I heard a man’s voice speaking with some distress just below my window. So I peered out to see him talking on a smartphone and looking up in my direction. Of course he spotted me and asked:

“Excuse me, but do you know someone who lives here by name of Ken Mattachek? I haven’t heard from him for a few days, and I’m worried!”

I shook my head: “No, sorry, but I can let you in!”

Upon entering the lobby he showed me a pic of Ken, who I DID recognize:

“Yes, he’s on my floor. Moved in a few months back, dresses Bohemian, and walks with slightly bowed legs.”

“That’s him!” he replied, and I guided him to his unit which door, ironically enough, faces directly across from that of Myrtle-Haversak-and-son’s former digs. Before he knocked, I told him an ambulance came by around five days ago, to do a wellness check on someone, maybe it was Ken…but I saw him the next day; he looked fine to me.

“Well, I’ll leave you be now,” I told him, then turned away. He thanked me and began to knock:

“Kenny? Kenny?”

Just before turning the corner, I faced him again: “If you need to speak with the manager, his name is Kevin, and he lives on the top floor, at the other far end of the hall.” I then extended my arm to point eastward, before disappearing back into my own private Idaho.

Don’t know if Ken answered, as I didn’t eavesdrop, but returned hovel to sit down and compose the first part of this missive. But a few minutes later I peered out my window once more, and witnessed the concerned visitor wander off towards Castro Street, smartphone pressed to one ear.

2) As I approached the corner of 16th & Market on my way to Rosenberg’s a shiny black four-door pulled up, and a young woman with raven hair bound in a flowery white scarf beckoned to me:

“Do you speak Spanish?”

I turned to look at her, and got gypsy vibes while the driver, a swarthy 30-something, also waved me over. “Is this an abduction attempt?” I thought. “But I’m an old fellow with absolutely ZILCH sex traffic appeal!”

I cautiously approached by a few steps, keeping enough distance so I could make a dash for the hills if need be, and replied:

“Un poquito.”

She then held out a hefty finger ring colored in a dark rich amber, like brushed gold, and said in PERFECT ENGLISH: “This is pure gold, and I’m trying to sell it; we need the money.”

“Sorry,” I replied, “I’m poor, can’t afford it.” Then scurried off across 16th Street.

I did look back, to see them now talking with a Mexican laborer who also turned down their generous offer with upraised, flat palms. I decided to memorize their license plate number in case he was summarily yanked into their vehicle and whooshed away to parts unknown. Though his being the beefy sort, I concluded that such a dramatic scenario was greatly against all odds. Especially since there was only that woman in the back seat, and the driver remained at the wheel. Even though the laborer had, for a few brief moments, both hands gripping the edge of the passenger-side door, which I thought was too close for comfort.

Hence I concluded no unseemly crime was about to occur, and finally meandered off to purchase my morning dose of elixir so carefully conjured up by the loving hands of a Rosenberg minion and a drip-coffee maker of questionable pedigree.

3) As I sat on a bench right outside the long-closed-except-for-special-events Cafe Flore, to enjoy a few sips of my java before returning hovel, a former resident of 9666 Market Street strolled by and said “Hi!” He and his lover used to live right across the hallway from me…and they adored the pups, thus I was sad to see them go. That was also the time I had to suffer the drawn out Myrtle-&-Son fiasco, so I was sad to see them go for that reason as well, because loss of a reliable witness in the event of legal repercussions.

During that unhappy cycle, they kept to themselves so quietly you could never tell whether they were home or not. And they never brought it up to me, nor I to them, so I’m not really sure whether or not they’d be on my side if push ever came to shove. And I DON’T know where they live now, so it would be most difficult, if not impossible, to contact them if there arose a future need to address the matter. Such as the current upsets over the building manager by certain residents attempting to form a tenants union, where my own sordid history with Kevin could be an aid to their cause. Be that as it may:

As you possibly recall, these two residents from across me for almost five years, hail from one of those Middle Eastern nations with a “-stan” suffix…I think it was Kazakhstan, though it may have been Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, or Kyrgystan. Though it was DEFINITELY one of those countries, I’m sure of that. It wasn’t any OTHER “-stan” region such as Pakistan, Afghanistan or whatever-stan. Were it not for their clearly ethnic faces, you wouldn’t know they’re foreigners because their English is impeccably American. I’ve never even heard them speak their native tongue, even though I’ve passed by their door countless times. At any rate:

His was a casual hello, as he didn’t pause to ask how I was doing…though I DID ask him, as he stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to turn green before crossing Market Street. As he turned around to face me, I told him the pups are dong fine, and shared with him some of my hardships dealing with their bipolar owner.

“It’s both a heartbreak and a joy,” I concluded. But I soundly emphasized how much better Deek is treating the dogs, though admitted it’s still a worry, as someone who witnesses his less-than-kind treatment of them just might report him.

He pointed out that once Animal Control has them it will be very difficult to get them back. I agreed, to which he anxiously replied:

“Well I gotta go now.” And off he went, with THIS pro-Canis-familiaris pilgrim fully aware that this “-stan” fellow isn’t the least bit interested in my efforts to care for two of the sweetest little mutts you could ever know, who are subjected to the many dangers of living on the streets, in the charge of a mentally unstable meth addict. And he KNOWS who Deek is, BTW, even speaks with him sometimes…though maybe not anymore, since he moved on.

Funny how so many dramatic scenarios play out right by my building, Wattson, or very close TO it. No wonder I prefer to remain ensconced in my hermit’s cave! Though trouble sometimes comes knockin’ right at my door, or when I pass through the hallway, no matter my wish to keep to myself.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Space Blankets: why didn’t I think of that?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 16, 2022 at 1:50 PM

> That’s great news!! I love the image of them under their space blanket, all cozy and comfy.

And those little crinkly sounds as they poked their heads out to say hello! Flaco was about to dash beyond Deek for my hugs and kisses, but he told her to stay where she was: behind him and secured in the right-end corner of the ATM alcove. That was okay by me, as I was already pleased to see them so well protected. Flaco seemed fine with that too; she didn’t complain, while Lucky saw fit to remain settled inside the folds of the blanket…it was enough for him to greet me from that spot with a friendly “Woof!”

Damn, how I wish I had a working pair of spyglasses again, but I just can’t afford them, especially when they fall apart so soon. MANY great little scenarios I have missed, because of that.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Boy did I sleep well last night! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 16, 2022 at 2:25 PM

As I gazed up at the lovely full moon at twilight, while standing on the corner of Market & Noe last night, a peaceful cloak of kindness settled on my shoulders and in my heart. And I thought:

“This is a good omen, things are gonna turn around for me, the pups and Deek.”

And I’ve felt very much at peace since then. For the first time in a long, long while, I woke up this morning without the usual petite mal string of anxiety attacks I need to first quell before starting a new day.

It was, I now realize, a premonition of good tidings later that same eve. But I also suspect that, my being a part of everything else a la quantum entanglement, it is also a good omen for the world. That’s my stringed-out theory, and I’m stickin’ to it!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Deek says he may have a place within a month!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 18, 2022 at 7:19 PM

He just dropped by, told me to hold onto the dogs for another night (third in a row), said some park ranger who’s known him for years can cut through some red tape for him, and get him a place, dogs and all. He is supposed to meet him and he’ll take him to the housing, so Deek can decide if he likes the place or not. The ranger mentioned the corruption of the new funding being pumped into the homeless cause, but it’s being addressed and many more homeless have been successfully moved off the streets.

This sounds believable, the way he talked. I’ve heard of new spots being set aside for the houseless these past few months. It’s just not in the news so much, except for generalized updates. So let’s keep our fingers crossed.

Deek looks great, got a new haircut where most of his head is shaved, except for some scant strands in the middle and falling down the back…think “Hare Krisna”. It actually looks good on him. He had nothing for me to charge, said all his electronics were stolen again. I was preparing an update covering the last few days, when he showed up. I will get around to that later tonight. But I couldn’t hold off telling you this good news. Hope it’s all true, and that it works out for him. I should know some time tomorrow, probably afternoon or evening.

I’ll be giving the pups their first shampoo tonight, one at a time…as they’re ghastly afraid of water except when it’s quietly resting in a bowl. Even sloshing it makes them jump with alarm. Hopefully in the long run, they’ll grow accustomed to running water and standing under it after giving them a shower once a month. I certainly don’t want tonight’s first bath to be traumatic for them!

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek says he may have a place within a month!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 18, 2022 at 10:51 PM

> But…but…if Deek gets a place, you’ll never get to spend the night with the pups!

Still better than their living on the streets…besides, he can let me have the pups over now and then, I can walk them, visit HIS domain, etc.


Subject: Wednesday night was a disaster…though all was made right the next day!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 19, 2022 at 11:24 AM

Deek brought me this crummy speaker that was just a wooden box with a loosely connected power supply that uses a C charger. You have to first remove the screen and the actual speaker to get to the battery, contained in a plastic cylinder with a USB slot for charging it. Four standard screws keep it intact. A piece of junk, and he told me to be real careful when removing the speaker and battery, because the contacts are loosely fit. I told him to wait a few minutes while I look at it, in case I have any questions. Four screws hold the speaker to the box, with the battery also inside. So I started to remove the screws, when he suddenly hollered from where he and pups were parked by the bus stop:

“C’mon, I gotta go, I’m not gonna wait all night!”

I had only returned to my room for three minutes, mind you. I dropped what I was doing, put my shoes back on and stepped out again to see him already departing up the street with the dogs…even though he said I could have them stay over that night. I called to him:

“What’s the rush, you can’t wait a couple more minutes?”

He turned around and handed the doggies over to me, then walked away in a huff, pushing the small cart before him. I took the pooches upstairs and returned to check out the speaker. I raised it gingerly from its box, to discover the battery was NOT connected. I guess the ends were so loose, they slipped from the terminals of their own accord. The battery, OTOH, I was able to remove and charge. The wires are tricky to reconnect, they’re old-school, and I doubted I could perform the operation. So I returned the box unscrewed, and handed him some Scotch tape and a screwdriver, so he can reconnect the wires himself.

Of course I feared Deek would throw a hissy fit and start screaming right in front of my building. And that’s exactly what happened, upon his return two hours later. He also had given me a “new” smartphone to fill with mp3’s and charge up. That, too, was a problem, taking me almost an hour to get the device to finally connect via USB to my laptop, so I could upload a chunk of his rap collection. And it turned out to be the slowest charging phone he’s given me yet, so by the time he returned, it was only at 19 percent. This, too, ignited another temper tantrum on his part. He made up some story about missing out on a jam session that night, because he had to hang out for another couple of hours, to get the smartphone up to 50 percent. Naturally, it was all my fault, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I have “slow electricity.”

I, however, remained calm through it all, reminding him how he has so many GOOD things going on in his life, and he should count his blessings…shit happens to everyone now and then, so why allow setbacks to fuck with your head. My gazing up at the full moon just the evening before, accompanied by an unexpected wave of peace washing over me, certainly helped me deal with Deek’s latest stupidity.

During this crappy meetup, I kindly asked for the dog food back, so I can store it rather than his probably losing it, and then asking for a fresh supply only two days after I already GAVE him more kibble and cans. The dogs, you see, were upstairs gettin’ some Z’s, and I feared he might demand them back, due to this emotional explosion. But he did not. He seemed annoyed I asked to take the food inside, so I said never mind if you lost it already, I just thought to ask. But he somehow managed to dig it out of one of two large sacks while grumbling incoherently, and hand it over in spite of his surly mood. I told him, “Thanks, that’s a big help!”

I figure that was a good sign, Wattson…as he didn’t retaliate either by taking the pups back, or refusing to return the doggy vittles. I had told him last week he needs to stop asking for dog food so frequently, as it’s killing my budget. And he’s been doing just that, now, much to my relief. However, this last batch he returned, had a wad of moist kibble at the bottom of the bag, and equivalent gunk smeared across the cans. So I cleaned it all up, throwing away the wasted kibble, though he still had two mostly-full Ziplocs of dry chow, with which I fed them the last two days. I obviously need to talk to Deek about preventing food poisoning by keeping everything dried and sealed. Every time I turn my head, I find he’s done something ELSE that puts his own life, or that of the mutts, in harms way…it never ends!

When he returned the next day, I saw he had taped the battery contacts down, which made it easy for me to get in there and plug in the C cord. In fact, I left the cord connected, for even easier recharges. It was curled up in the box, three feet long and easy to reach, so I no longer have to remove both speaker and battery. He also finally got another AC cord for his hefty, 20-pound speaker he had me stash for him a few days back. And he was most contrite, this time around. I’m sure he appreciated that I didn’t bring up the previous night’s fiasco…though I knew better anyway, as you gotta give someone with bipolar mood swings decent wiggle room, rather than be a nag. He returned several hours later to pick up his devices, and told me to keep the brindlekin for yet another night.

The sense of full-moon serenity that had descended upon THIS wobbly pilgrim’s psyche still remains, strong as ever. As I said in a recent missive, it was a premonition of better times ahead. First, this happy resolution post-hissy-fit, and now, the possibility of him getting a roof over his head in a month’s time! Keeping my fingers crossed that continued good fortune comes his way…more for the sake of Flaco & Lucky, than anything else.

My Bodhisattva Premise reminds me this is all acting out a script for my own benefit, and to make me the hero of this saga. Which means Deek is simply playing his role…and superbly, I might add. So many tough challenges he’s flung at my feet, yet I keep coming up smelling like a rose! What, me worry?

Let’s see what Deek has to say about this housing opportunity, once he returns to pick up the doggies. Will of course update you.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Subject: Deek has not yet returned, and I’m nervous about this!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 20, 2022 at 2:19 PM

He was supposed to be given a tour yesterday, of the new digs he might occupy per his approval…but he hasn’t reported back to me since I last saw him two nights ago. Now I have this horrid fantasy of him being lured into some scurrilous scenario, such as when homeless men are kidnapped and forced to fight each other to the death, with bets placed. Jeez, the scary things the mind comes up with now and then! Obviously, this is a reminder to NOT allow worry to ruin my day.

He’s fine, and should this housing opportunity fall through, I already have rehearsed exactly what to say to keep his spirits up. Dogs are doing great…they’re so polite regarding my chair, as they kindly jump to the bed when they sense I’d like to sit down by my work station. Though half the time I don’t, so I ease their mind by telling them it’s okay, and place a reassuring hand on them. In which case they happily remain in restful bliss, either curled up on the seat, or stretched out a bit with their head drooped over the edge.

Several days back when I returned hovel with the pups, there was Kevin on the other side of the front gate. He kindly opened the door for us, even though they barked at him until we reached the stairs a second or two later, whence they quieted down. I was pleased that Kevin didn’t tell them to shut up this time, or demand I get rid of the dogs.

Then next day as I exited my room with the mutts, here came my quasi-fascist neighbor Moe, strolling down the hallway from his own apartment. Naturally, the dogs barked up a tempest, but I was already at the top of the stairs and rushing them down before Moe was halfway there. Funny that Flaco turned back on her leash, poked her head around the corner to give one more “Woof!” of warning at him, before she resumed our descent. Very cute little moment, I hope he enjoyed it.

And just last night as I was returning hovel with the pups, we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a boisterous, small crowd that just exited the Lookout: a second-story gay bar right on the corner of 16th & Noe. So I held the brindlekin on a short leash as they barked away, when one exiting patron, tall, handsome and young, stopped to admire them and declare how cute they are.

“Do they bite?” he asked.

“No they don’t, just stick out your hand,” I replied.

They would NOT let him pet them, and continued to bark until I handed him a couple of treats, whereby they immediately quieted down as he fed them.

“Oh, thank you, that’s very nice of you!” he exclaimed.

“Here, another for the road,” I said and handed him two MORE treats.

The dogs, of course, eagerly accepted a second round of nummies. He then thanked me once more, profusely, wished me a great evening, and off he and the rest of the gaggle departed up Market Street.

– Zeke K-Holmes


Re: Deek has not yet returned, and I’m nervous about this!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 20, 2022 at 5:43 PM

> So the dogs are with you now??

Oh yes, fourth day in a row! Some of my other fears when he finally gets a roof over his head, are that he’ll leave the pups stuck inside for hours, yell at them or worse when he’s in a bad mood, or decide to get Flaco pregnant. Which would get him kicked out of the place, the brindlekin handed over to Animal Control…and possibly his going to jail for animal abuse and trying to run a puppy mill.

But since he’d be living in an organized community environment, there would likely be responsible employees to guide him in a better direction. However, Deek may walk out on the housing opportunity, if he feels his wings are being clipped. For them to arrange a monthly income, they’d need to know his Social Security number, and assist him with getting proper ID…which may cause him fear of Louisiana’s child services tracking him down.

Also, they’ll possibly require him to attend weekly therapy sessions and/or group meetings. I wonder, since they allow pets, if they’ll have veterinarian care in situ, which would be great. So I plan to tell him, if he wants to get out of that situation, at least wait until the doggies get a checkup and all their booster shots. I also need to tell him it’s none of their business, my giving him a hundred dollars every week…so he should just make them think he gets NO moolah whatsoever except from collecting bottles and cans, and panhandling.

He also might rebel against being categorized as mentally disabled in order to collect disability payments, thus turn down a reliable source of funding. If such be the case, I’ll inform him he can always get off it, but in the meantime he can use it to build a better life, both for himself and the pooches. I’ll remind him that I was on a disability stipend most of my life, until I turned 66.

So many pitfalls to deal with, thanks to his shocking lack of basic knowledge on many issues, and right-wing brainwash! I just hope he’ll take the time to sit down and let us talk things out, whenever he goes through this or that hurdle. But enough of my fantasizing worst-case scenarios. I want to bring up something else, that I meant to include in my previous missive, Wattson. Which is:

Among all the vagrants in Deek’s social circle, not a one seems to be the least bit ageist, homophobic, racist or prejudiced in any other way. None of them act alarmed over my bad teeth either! IOW I’ve experienced far more acceptance and friendliness among the local homeless, than among the housed!

Listening to Marshall McGee’s latest “Memo of the Weird” podcast right now. It keeps me sane.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Another concern re. subsidized housing, is they may require Deek to get the complete series of COVID-19 shots.


Re: Deek has not yet returned, and I’m nervous about this!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: February 20, 2022 at 7:25 PM

> Oh, Jeeziz. That better not happen.

It would be an unthinkable tragedy. But if I tell Deek NOT to get Flaco pregnant while living in community housing, and why it’s a HORRIFIC idea, he’d likely rebel by rejecting the opportunity.

> They do NOT need to know about that.

It’s time for him to grow up and learn FAST how to work the system for his own survival, and that of the pups.

> A crucial observation!!!

For which reason I’ve concluded that the poor and the homeless are the true heart of San Francisco, and any other city.

> He’s a caution….

I will never cease to hold much gratitude for reading so many of my tales on his show, as well as all those call-ins. Even though, for whatever reason, he shook me off like a flea later on.

– Zeke K-Holmes

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