The Eviction Fiasco (part 2)

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 5: Chapter 19]

Re: A New Day
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 2:03 PM

> This is awful. How terrible for you to see the doggies looking at you expectantly. For me, that would be pure torture. I admire your steely spine, though, I really do.

Thank you. Bodhisattva Premise:

“It is what it is, and the sooner you accept the situation, the sooner you can make lime soda out of limes. Do not wallow in pain, reach out in kindness.”

But what do you think of the email I plan to send Kevin? A little voice in my head keeps urging, ‘Go on, it’ll do a lot of good, you’ll see!” I’m itching to send it off.

Re: A New Day
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 2:43 PM

> You have nothing to lose, and maybe a lot to gain. I’d send it.

Here I go then, will send it in a few moments. My heart goes pitter-patter.

Re: A New Day
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 4:34 PM

> I really can’t see what harm it could do.

He posted back, said: “You need to send it to the lawyer, not me.” Their email address is on the 3-day notice of eviction header. So I’ll make it more formal, and send it off. This sucks. I’m being played by drama queens.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A New Day
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 7:59 PM

> Kevin could stop it if he wanted to.

Of course he could, but he’s not going to. Once I get a lawyer I will show him or her his horrid letter over the Adisa/mom issue, his disgusting attitude towards the dogs, and the homeless that he wrote in a SIGNED letter.. This indicates a serious prejudice coloring his judgment of me…and maybe senility or some other mental aberration. Which then spills over into this recent brouhaha, and weakens his case. So my hand may be forced to fight this all the way to court. What an ordeal. But the lawyer may regard that as outside the present doggy issue, thus not relevant. Furthermore:

Kevin didn’t say ANYthing to me about having the dogs visit for MONTHS…maybe almost a YEAR, until that Adisa/mom insanity. That may also work in my favor.

Deek has been snoozing on the sidewalk all day long…he’s still out there (now at the bus stop), and the sun will soon set. The poor little doggies have nothing to do, can’t play and run around, and are forced to sit and rest on concrete. And the air is turning cold.

Also, everyone who lives here sees all that. The pups bark now and then, at passersby. A sad scene overall. I can’t even step out to purchase groceries via my usual route, as the hounds will see me, and want to go inside. I’ll have to walk the long way around: to Castro Street, then cross Market, turn left and walk back towards Noe Street to the opposite corner from the mutts, then turn right down 17th Street!

Nah, I’ll just wait till 9 o’clock or so, hoping Deek’s moved elsewhere by then, away from my building…and THEN I’ll shop.

I have a flurry of posts at this point, to add to my latest chapter, and the next one. But I hesitate to put them online, due to the eviction issue. It’s like my tales have stopped, as far as the readers go.

Just looked out the window again, to see some kind lady with her own doggy feeding treats to Flaco and Lucky. Here’s the video:

Deek is asleep by the bus stop, as some sweet woman with her own doggy shares treats with his pups, Flaco and Lucky.

Well, I was gonna end this missive with the video, but Deek summoned me downstairs 20 minutes ago. Asked me to watch the dogs while he runs off to Chevron for a burrito. The mutts were excited and pulling on the leash towards the gate as I attempted to move them a few yards further up the sidewalk.

“I don’t know why they always get so hopped up when they see you,” he snarled.

“Deek,” I replied, “they love visiting me, that’s why!”

I finally got the hounds to move to the next tree over, and I sat down with Flaco and Lucky; the girl sat on my lap, and Lucky close beside, and I kissed them and held them in my arms. Flaco gaze up at me with that darling face and sweet, dachsund eyes, and I kissed her many times. Then I pulled Luck even closer, and kissed him too.

“They wanna go inside where it’s warm!” someone piped up. It was a homeless guy standing in the ATM alcove, tall with curly blonde hair and wearing a dark red hoodie. He was snacking on corn chips.

“Yes, I know,” I replied, then told him how I’ve been helping him out by taking him inside a few days a week, or when the weather’s bad…but I can’t anymore because I’m threatened with eviction for doing this.

“Oh that’s why he hangs out so much here (meaning the ATMs),” he said. “That’s bad for you, because it’s right by the gate, and he lets the dogs off their leash while he’s sleeping, and they run around and bark. I’m sure that bothers the other residents.”

I then explained a bit more about my relationship with him, how he originally agreed not to hang out by my building but park elsewhere up or down the block, or on a side street.

“But he’s stubborn, and hardly listens to me,” I raised my shoulders in a “whaddya gonna do” gesture.

“I hear people a lot, talkin’ about taking those dogs away,” he continued. “He doesn’t treat them well. Look over there, a blanket, and he doesn’t even pick up to keep the dogs warm.”

“I know,” I agreed, then told him about all the money a spend to get him doggy sweaters, blankets, food, and so on. “But instead of talking about taking his dogs, they need to reach out to him, encourage him to be more responsible to these lovely creatures.” Then added:

“I’m just on Social Security, so don’t have much money to spend on the dogs. But he keeps LOSING whatever I give him, even in just one day. Including dog food. I’ve talked to his homeless friends, asking them to help him treat the dogs better, talk to him, bring them blankets, offer to watch the pups for him, stuff like that.”

“The sweater and things you get him, he sells for small things like cigarettes, meth pipes and snacks!” he replied. “He needs to stop wasting all his money on drugs.” He continued:

“Those dogs are gonna get hurt. Your friend gets into fights, and one night I saw the dogs running around when someone came by with a pit bull who lunged at the dogs! The man told him he needs to keep those dogs on a leash. But what did Deek do? Just ignored him as he tried to go back to sleep.”

“I know all about that,” I informed the fellow. “I’ve told him many times to take better care of his hounds, get a handle on his temper tantrums, and stop arguing with people.”

“Well there’s mean folks out here with guns,” he replied. “They don’t care if they shoot a dog, especially if its owner gets in their face.”

After he said that, I saw Deek returning from Chevron, so I looked up at my surprise compatriot and said, “Please don’t talk about this to him, right now while I’m here.”

He immediately complied, as I stood up and walked the dogs beside him, towards the bus stop. I wished him a very good night and said god bless you.

“Ha!” he replied while stuffing his face with junk food.

“No, I really mean that from my heart, Deek!” I said.

“Ha!” he uttered once again. Not so much cynical as an agreeable grunt.

“Okay, I’m going home now,” I said, then returned hovel. That tall, blonde fellow I just spoke with had gone by then. Wish he hadn’t because I wanted to thank him for the conversation. Maybe I’ll see him another time, soon.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Here’s where they can get me.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 8:03 PM

From an article on this 10-day warning;

“Please note that this change does not apply to situations where the San Francisco tenant allegedly creates a serious and imminent risk of injury or property damage or the nonpayment of COVID-19 rental debt.”

The phrase to note is “serious and imminent risk of injury.” That would, of course, include a dog bite. But it’s only an ACCUSATION with zilch evidence it even occurred.

Re: Here’s where they can get me…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 8:10 PM

> Oh, man…

I think I walked by that Chinese guy this afternoon, coming up the stairs…the one who made the bite accusation. Didn’t occur to me he may have been that same person, until after I smiled at him, nodded my head, said hello, and passed by.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: For better or for worse (my email to Ablablah Realty’s lawyer)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 9:19 PM

For better or for worse, this is what I just emailed to Ablahblah Realty’s attorney:


Starting yesterday morning, May 27th, I no longer allow the dogs to visit. Your three-day eviction notice to quit the premises is not valid, because you neglected to deliver an official “cease or quit” notice prior to that. Which requires you to include a ten-day warning, per San Francisco Rent Ordinance Section 37.9(c). Be that as it may:

No need to present me with a “cease or quit,” as I have already ceased the so-called nuisance. May this unpleasant conflict lead to better things for all parties involved. And the pups are harmless, they’re sweet little dogs…they wouldn’t hurt a flea. They’ve never bitten anyone nor are they “vicious” in spite of what some have claimed…there is no proof. You are welcome to check out the videos of my friend’s doggies, for whom I’ve been dog-sitting on and off for many months. You’ll see why no one in his or her right mind would ever call them vicious.

Building manager Kevin Bond was extremely nasty to me starting around December of last year, and into January. It has to do with his allowing me to be harassed by a now-former resident down the hallway (a young fellow who lived with his mother), along with his teenage friends who lingered for hours in the hallway in front of my door, on a number of days scattered across a few months. I even had to call the police on him, once. I also have a video of he and his friends attempting to intimidate me. I sent a letter of complaint via the USPS to Ablahblah Realty about this, but never heard back from them. I have all the documentation on this horrid scenario, if you are interested in looking it over. Including a horrific letter he taped to my door, with his signature. I am concerned about his mental health, and how it is negatively impacting the residents. I am sure this unpleasant brouhaha ties directly into his latest actions against me.

Please feel free to contact me via my cell number below, or email. Thank you for your kind attention.


Ezekiel J. Krahlin
[xxxx] Market St., #205
San Francisco, CA 94115


Subject: Micah is his name…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 28, 2022 at 9:45 PM

…the skinny blonde dude at the ATMs who talked to me about Deek and his pups. A little while ago I stepped out for groceries, and there he was in the same spot I saw him before. Two other vagrants were there, too (one African American), and it was a peaceful scene.

His back was to me, hovering over a hookah he held in one hand, puffing away.

“Excuse me, didn’t I talk to you earlier today?” I addressed him, and he turned around.

He smiled, “Yeah we did!”

“I just want to thank you for such a thoughtful conversation. I appreciate everything you told me,” I said to him.

Our talk lasted only around five minutes, including how Deek is scared of him because he takes fentanyl.

“Oh, that makes sense,” I interjected. He doesn’t touch the stuff, and I’m glad for that…but sorry that HE does. Deek, lost a couple of friends from fentanyl overdose, and I presume he prefers to shun those who use it.

I made it clear that I am for legalizing ALL drugs, and that I hope he is wary about the DOSE level of his preferred substance. He began to tell me it’s only those who DON’T take it who have misconceptions about why some people imbibe…and other issues around hard drugs.

“Oh, I understand,” I cut him off. “You don’t need to educate me on drug use, I’m well informed on the matter. And I never JUDGE anyone for whatever elixir they prefer.

“So you be careful, Micah,” I advised, “You are obviously someone the world needs, and can’t afford to live without…going by how you spoke to me, earlier today.”

Then another vagrant sitting nearby and on my life broke in with a “Hi, Zeke!”

I turned to look at him, but his face was not the LEAST bit familiar to me.

“Bet you’re surprised I know you name,” he looked up at me and smiled.

“Well, a lot of people in these parts know my name, even though I don’t know them,” I bragged in a jocular manner. “So what’s your name?”

I forgot what he said it was, but it did not jog my memory one iota.

“I used to go by [——-],” he replied, and again I cannot recall the moniker he stated. “I visited you once, years ago!”

“Oh, I see,” I replied, though secretly worried if he was one of my hot one-night stands from decades ago. He was certainly handsome enough now to have been that. Nonetheless, I could NOT place the face.

I shrugged my shoulders and said: “Well, good to see you’re still going strong!” I noticed he had some kind of eczema across his arms and over his entire face. Reminiscent of the after effects of a sun burn, though I sensed it wasn’t.

“I live in the Tenderloin now.”

So I guess he was a homeless person lucky enough to get subsidized housing…probably just a room in a hotel. At any rate, I then took off to purchase a package of whole wheat pita, and a quart of whole milk yogurt. They were still there when I returned, but I was growing tired and eager to get back hovel to fix my dinner then relax on my comfy bed while playing Youtube videos for the latest news and opinions…plus a slew of animated horror stories later on.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Interesting Lovely Morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 10:35 AM

I slept well, in spite of my woes…occasional minor anxiety attacks throughout the days and nights, that I manage to squelch promptly. Woke up with one around 5 AM, so got up, drank some water, then went right back to bed. These attacks are FEAR based, thus should always be flushed out of one’s system promptly. Anyway:

I got up shortly before 7 and, a half hour later, stepped out for my usual Rosenburg java. But they were still closed…usually they’re open by then, but not always. So I marched on back hovel, but on the way back, someone called to me from behind:

“Good morning!”

It was that heavyset, homeless African American fellow I’ve mentioned before, who seems to number among Deek’s social circle. He’s also the one who came up to Deek some time back, to ask him why he was screaming in front of my gate. This fellow has a way of showing up in my world at the best times! I don’t know his REAL name yet, but for now let’s call him Samuel. So I turned to him and said,

“Good morning to you, too, how are you doing today?”

He shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something I couldn’t understand, but pretended to, and replied:

“Don’t YOU look very nice today, and I LOVE your necklace!” Which was a string of several, large, oblong ivory beads strung together by colorful cloth cord…like maybe he rolled up and pulled a couple of bandanas through the beads (one red, one yellow), then tied the handsome result around his neck. He also wore a clean, maroon pullover sweater, and a pair of snazzy black trousers. His shoes were black and nondescript, though far from shabby.

“So where are you off to?” he asked.

“Oh, I just stepped out for coffee at Rosenberg’s, but they’re still closed, so I’ll try again later.”

“I see,” he replied, with a prince of a smile. “Sure is a lovely day, don’t you think?”

“Yes it is,” I agreed. “We’ve been having a STRING of nice days lately, after…”

“Yo, hold on!” a voice echoed from a distance. (It was a quiet, sunny morning, and, thanks to the cool ocean air and no traffic whizzing by, made voices echo like in a canyon.)

It was Deek, pushing an overstuffed shopping cart down Market Street (the street itself, not the sidewalk) with the brindlekin bound to it and prancing merrily along. I saw their leashes were entwined, with the troubling result that Lucky’s tether was half the length of Flaco’s. But he managed without difficulty; the pups are used to it.

Since I was standing so close to the gate, I told Samuel to step over here, by the bus stop, We did that, and Deek finally pulled up, whereby he and the black gentlemen greeted each other in a friendly tone.

“I have something for you,” he said while rummaging through the small hill of discarded clothing and plastic and metal items in his cart.

I was already crouched down, petting the dogs when he said that, which I thought was directed towards me. Samuel bent over the cart, peering into it to see what Deek had for him. I have no idea what this object was, and before he complete his search, he paused to hand me two small gizmos for a recharge. And as I received them unto my hand, I pointed to the raveled leashes and told him to straighten them out, for Lucky’s sake.

“Sure, I’m on top of it!” he replied without a hint of snarkiness, and began to do just that, as I said okay then, I’m going upstairs now to plug ’em in.

He was neat in appearance, and calm through the entire meetup, though brief. Perhaps Samuel’s presence tempered his spirit. For it is usually only when he’s with me without a witness, that he’ll grow hostile from time to time. Although THAT seems to have evaporated lately, as a result of my eviction threat and no longer having the dogs visit. IOW: he’s being quite mature, knowing I’m riding out a scary episode in my life. The pooches, BTW, continue to be in great spirit and excellent health…their brindle coats glossy, their eyes sparkling, their noses cold and wet, and their mood scintillatingly cheerful.

I remained hovel around twenty minutes or so, before stepping out again for my morning elixir…by which time Deek and hounds had departed towards Castro Street. As I turned the corner up Noe Street, this friendly old fellow with his sweet, elderly yellow lab approached from the other direction and passed by. But he did say, as he came near:

“I just saw your dogs up there,” and pointed his thumb over the shoulder, further up Noe Street towards Duboce Park.

“Yes, they’re doing fine!” I smiled in reply, then stepped into Rosenbergs.

This guy with the yellow lab (let’s call him “Steve”) has crossed my path numerous times in the past several months…always with a smile, and delight at seeing the brindlekin. We’ve never stopped and talked so far, but he always gives me a friendly nod and sometimes says “good morning” or “hello.” This morning was the first time he’s addressed me with more than one or two words.

Though it IS strange he indicated Deek and pups were somewhere along Noe Street, as I saw him depart towards Castro Street barely a half hour ago! Deek DOES get around though, in jiffy time, so I’ll just chalk it up to that.

Next time I see Steve, I’ll introduce myself and ask if he has a minute or two so I can tell him about the dogs…that they’re not mine, they’re homeless, etc. Maybe I’ll even mention the eviction notice. I really REALLY need those Brindlekin prayer cards! So I just ordered a bundle of 250 cards, $32.04 includes shipping…due to arrive by June 10th.

Very interesting these recent, amicable scenarios I’ve had with the housless, last night and today! Just like a previous time during extreme angst in my life, they show up again as if angels to comfort me and guide me along! And then that nice but brief, exchange with Steve.

I seem to have become VERY well known among a large group of vagrants here in the Castro…who very likely understand my situation with Deek and the pups by now. And it looks like certain local residents are also aware, and their numbers are growing. Including, of course, residents in my building. Where this will take me, I don’t know, but I DO hope it will lead to immense support for my lifesaving doggy care, that just may put a halt to the eviction.

I’m thinking that my email to Ablahblah Realty’s attorney MAY nip the eviction in the bud. Possibly, they don’t care to open this Adisa/mom can of worms, as it reflects on Ablablah Realty in a VERY unfavorable way. So, in order to avoid this outcome, they JUST may halt the eviction process. I’m even fantasizing that they’ll PROFUSELY apologize and offer me a lovely studio apartment for pennies on the dollar, including free utilities…and allow the doggies to live with me.

“Dream on, Zeke…you’ll probably be evicted!” says one voice in my head, but not the others.

Tomorrow is Monday; hopefully the Senior Eviction Collective will give me a call or an email that day.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Interesting Lovely Morning! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 11:08 AM

I forgot to include my mulling over Steve’s (w/the yellow lab) mentioning in a friendly and casual manner, that he just saw “my” dogs further up Noe Street. IOW he didn’t act alarmed or even the least bit concerned to see them with a fellow who is OBVIOUSLY living on the streets. For the fact is: I’ve NEVER indicated to him at any time they are not MY pups, that I’m just dog-sitting.

Does this indicate far MORE housed people are aware that the dogs are homeless, and grasp my long-term friendship with their owner? Are they ALSO my bodhisattva guardians coming to the fore to boost my strength and confidence during this trial? At any rate:

Deek just dropped by to pick up his gadgets and ask for three disposable plastic bowls, one filled with water…and two large trash bags. So I brought everything down to him where he waited by the ATMs, greeted the doggies once more, glad to see that, while they were eager to step inside, they calmly accepted that was not to be. IOW not so much frenzied eagerness this time around. This is good, as I don’t want them to suffer for lack of my sanctuary.

You will be pleased to hear that once again, Deek was impressively calm and treated me in a decent manner.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Kevin gave me tacit permission!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 11:24 AM

Just occurred to me:

When Deek was having a MAJOR anxiety attack early last year, and I felt compelled to take complete charge of the dogs until this blew over, I TOLD the manager the situation: that the dogs need better care than what Deek can provide, so I’m taking them off his hands. He listened and did NOT oppose my intent in any way, nor told me to get rid of the dogs for almost a YEAR. And the first time he did that was regarding Adisa/mom’s false accusation.

Voila! I’ve won. Possibly.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Kevin gave me tacit permission!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 11:24 AM

> And here’s what occurred to me, and has surely occurred to you: IF one of the dogs had ACTUALLY bitten the drama queen, he would have demanded proof of rabies inoculation. I gather he did not.

He did…or at least the manager did, so I emailed him a copy of the rabies shot certificate for each dog. However, no proof of a bite has been shown me, either through a photo or a medical log. A person who was just bitten would say so right away, to the owner or dog-sitter. Nor did Kevin show me a recording of the incident, from the lobby camera. Perhaps it wasn’t even working!

When I ran downstairs to sweep up the doggies, I looked carefully and quickly at his legs and feet (he was wearing shorts and floppies). Absolutely NO sign of a bite anywhere! PerHAPS one of the dogs grazed his skin with a light touch, but I sincerely DOUBT that…but even if such DID occur, that’s hardly a reason for going into a fit of hysteria. It would of course be in Kevin’s nature to falsely accuse me, as he did so previously via the Adisa/mom case.

Don’t forget: a drama queen would EAGERLY make a false accusation to stir up the feces. They do it all the time: false witness is the hallmark of these types. Just as, years ago, I was accused of attacking someone with pepper spray, by a drama queen when the police showed up. Fortunately, someone else chimed in to say that’s not true, the big galoot starting to shove me, and I defended myself.

> I’m prepared to write a letter in your defense, to anyone you designate, and would, of course, run it by you for approval.

Immense thanks, Wattson!

What I DO need to do now, is make a request to Deek, NOT to sleep by the front of my building, where the foot traffic is high and cause the pups to bark like wild, whenever a sketchy or rowdy type meanders by. He did that two night ago, most recently, and the pups barked on and off through most of the night, well into 4 AM. I’m sure this pissed a lot of residents, including Kevin and my quasi-fascist neighbor, Moe. I’ll tell him if he wants me to win my case, and NOT be evicted, it’s best he either sleep BEHIND my building, or any other spot that is quieter, with considerably less busy thoroughfare. (The dogs then could also get their needed rest.) For I may REQUIRE some of the tenants to favorably witness on my behalf, and getting them ANGRY over a late-night noise nuisance CAUSED BY THE DOGS FOR WHOM I’M FIGHTING is NOT the way to go.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Kevin gave me tacit permission! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 2:01 PM


The conplainant may NOT have reported a bite to the manager, he may have just been upset. But Kevin may have decided to include the false charge out of malicious intent. For you’d think if someone actually WAS bitten, and it happened in the lobby, he’d immediately show me the video clip. Or the complainant would file some papers and charge me with the offense, including a photo of said injury. In sum:

I refuse to cave in to any accusation without showing me PROOF. Now, a little more rundown re. Kevin’s tacit permission for me to sit the dogin

Not only did I originally inform Kevin of my intent to protect the dogs from Deek’s severe mood swing, but I gave him an UPDATE on the situation now and then, over the span of almost an entire year. And glad to report to him constant improvements on Deek’s behavior, and the doggies’ well-being. Not ONCE in any of my updates did he tell me to remove the dogs.

I’m thinking that, once I send a SECOND email to the attorney (tonight) about Kevin’s tacit permission, and NO evidence of a bite has yet to be proven (so why should I bow to the accusation), he MAY have a change of heart. After probably contact Kevin to ask if it’s true he knew about my sitting the dogs for almost a year, and never told me I can’t have them visit. But will he just ignore or sit on my two emails? I think not, however I can PROVE I sent them to him, should this erupt into a court session.

They say that it is foolish for one accused to defend himself before the complainant’s lawyer, but rather get your OWN lawyer to do that for you. However, I don’t know if I’ll even FIND a pro-bono attorney soon enough, if at all…and I’d rather not go through the anxiety of waiting day after day till I have to go to court. It is BETTER, in my estimation, to try to nip the eviction process in the bud ASAP. And I now realize I have a VERY strong case.

Similar to how you used your OWN words to maintain possession of your home, without resorting to legal consultation. You won.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Kevin gave me tacit permission! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 4:09 PM

> All excellent. The pen is mighty!

Yes indeed, thank Cadmus for our gift!

> I once got my mother’s long-term care insurance company to cough up an extra 12k, just by writing a letter!

Superb! I just completed pulling all my “eviction” posts from my email service and transformed them into a plain-text chapter. The emails were piling up since Friday (the day Kevin handed me that notice) and earlier today I thought “What if those eviction letters disappear from your email folder?” That’s when I got to work…took, oh I dunnno, three or four hours? Now they’re backed up to both my external hard drive, and online at Google Drive. Changed real names to psuedonyms, etc. The collection includes EVERYTHING re. the eviction BS, including that email to the building’s attorney. Another one to him coming up tonight…of course I’ll send a copy to you, once it’s done and delivered.

Did I already mention how cooperative and mature Deek has been through my ordeal? I know I have, but it’s nice to praise him more than once a day.


Hope your day is going fantastic, Wattson. If not, keep a stiff upper lip, hug your kitties for me, and both your mutts (one of ’em human).

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: I just sent my 2nd email to their attorney.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 29, 2022 at 9:58 PM

And here it is:


Subject: Kevin Bond gave tacit approval for me to dog-sit. (Zeke Krahlin, #205, [xxxx] Market Street)

My homeless friend of more than twelve years, Deek, adopted first one dog, then a second…both times against my strong discouragement. Since I believe it’s cruel to force any canine to live on the streets, regardless of the healing companionship they provide. I almost had a heart attack when he acquired the second dog. In January of last year he went into some sort of major anxiety attack (perhaps he’s bipolar), talking about getting rid of the dogs and other crazy stuff. I knew he’d regret it terribly for the rest of his life if he did that, though he often treated them poorly, such as allowing them to get soaked in the rain, sleep on the concrete uncovered by a blanket or coat on very chill nights, neglecting to feed them, and so forth.

I regarded this as an emergency and convinced him to let me take them off his hands for awhile, that is, until his anxiety attack blew over. When I brought the dogs to my building, I spoke with Kevin Bond about this situation. He listened, never said anything against my dog-sitting, and so it began. Deek’s behavior gradually improved, and I finally returned the pups to him, with the arrangement I’d dog sit whenever it rains, or the nights are too cold for little mutts, or when the day is way too hot for their health. Deek also works diligently collecting recyclables, and found objects that he trades or sells. He also does occasional bicycle grocery deliveries. Sometimes for those reasons, he can’t have the dogs with him, as they’d slow down his money-making activities. In which case he drops them over so he can do his job uninterrupted. Deek is quite the workhorse.

Now and then over the months I’d give Mr. Bond an update on my progress (with excellent breakthroughs, though an uphill struggle). This went on for almost the entire year. Not once did he change his mind and say it’s time to stop having them over, it’s breaking the contract. But I assure you that, had he done so I would have promptly obliged, though with sadness.

Then came the false accusation of a dog bite by my neighbors down the hall: a mother and son living together. But it was obvious to me this was in retaliation for sending a letter of complaint to Ablahblah Realty, which copy they received a day before they complained to the manager about the son being bitten by one of my dogs. The timing of their grievance is most suspicious! Here is the copy of my complaint I snail-mailed to Ablahblah Realty.

And here is Mr. Bonds’ letter he stuck to my door, in response to the mother/son complaint.

In it, he shows extreme and unwarranted prejudice to those who don’t have a roof over their heads, and towards addicts. He also called the dogs “vicious animals” which is absolutely untrue, and grossly exaggerated their encounter with him in the hallway. I found that letter to be stunningly childish. He never provided a shred of evidence that the mother’s son was bitten, not a picture, not a medical report…zilch. Nothing came of it, but funny thing is, mother and son abruptly moved out of the building several months later.

Now, here is my video of her son and teenage friends harassing me at the front gate, which occurred on April 5th last year.

Bringing you back to the present time:

This second complaint of a dog bite is clearly yet one more ruse, as I was there when the dogs barked at him. He acted needlessly hysterical as I scopped them up, said, “Sorry, they slipped through my door, they don’t bite.” A ridiculous scene when you consider two little doggies barking like big, mean dogs when it’s obvious they wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ve seen them do this on the street with Zach: people laugh and often crouch down to pet them.

And like the previous false accusation, no evidence was shown to me, of any dog bite. The guy was dressed in Bermuda shorts and foot thongs, and I saw absolutely no sign of a bite, no blood, no scratch mark. Nonetheless, for approximately the last two weeks of my dog-sitting, I put painless choke collars on them, so neither could slip away from me…it worked beautifully. And I also started walking them separately, carrying each one up or down the stairs…for in my arms they remain perfectly still and quiet. That way NO drama queen would find any excuse to complain at the drop of a tiara.

When Mr. Bond taped a letter to my door, claiming one of my dogs bit someone in the lobby, and I need to get them out of the building, I resisted. Simply because to oblige his demand would be an admission on my part that he was indeed bitten. The point here is:

Accusing an owner their dog bit him without any proof it actually happened, gives no real cause for the owner to believe that. Though I eventually did stop having the dogs visit, based on Mr. Bond’s claim that I’ve broken my contract. In other words, after more than a year sitting these dogs with Mr. Bond’s tacit approval, he changed his mind. And that, I realize, I must abide by.

I know of two other residents who lived in a single room, each of which had a dog living with them. This was years ago, under Mark Epstein’s management. In fact one of those tenants had three pitbulls (yes, that’s what I said: three) stay with her for a few weeks (or longer perhaps, I can’t recall). She occupied the single room right next to the shared bathroom, on the same floor as myself. Her name was May, I think. The other one had a yorky, and he lived on the third floor, right next to my friend John Havrilchak (who has since moved back to Philadelphis many years ago). So I know that building managers sometimes make exceptions to this or that rule, for any number of reasons. However, the dogs in my charge were not occupying my residence 24/7, but they were frequent guests that I sat for my houseless friend.

I want to note that other residents of 2306 Market Street are very upset with the building manager, for a variety of reasons. As indicated by the following letter one resident posted to apartment doors including my own.

Finally, here are two more complaints I lodged against Mr. Bond in one letter, back in April 2021, due to his failure to stop teenagers who don’t live here from loitering in the hallway, and to ensure that all workers, visitors and residents wear covid masks in the building’s shared spaces. Ablablah Realty never got back to me on these matters, either.


Ezekiel J. Krahlin
[xxxx] Market St., #205
San Francisco, CA 9411[x]


Subject: Melodrama
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: May 30, 2022 at 12:39 PM

Picture this:

[Here I am seated at my work station, dialing the Senior Eviction Collective to verify they received my email sent Saturday, while I hear Flaco & Lucky’s beloved barks and howls as a fire engine careens by, further up the block on Market & Castro. My heart breaks, though I remain of good cheer, with stolid faith in my Bodhisattva Premise.]

A theater of the absurd melodrama is playing out around me, and I am the star performer against his own wishes. Utterly soul crushing but spectacularly, profoundly awesome and beautiful at the same time. Jebus fukkin crispy! GET ME THROUGH THIS, GANESHA (MOVER OF ALL OBSTACLES), AS SWIFTLY AS POSSIBLE AND WITH A BENEVOLENT OUTCOME FOR ALL PARTIES INVOLVED!

So I left a message on the collaborative’s voicemail, and they said they’d get back to me within 24 hours. Though I hope they’ll contact me today, in light of the email I posted them two days ago. Seeing as I don’t wanna run around like a rooster with his head cut off contacting OTHER renter assistance groups such as the Rent Control Board and the SF Tenants Union, in a desperate attempt to cover my even-at-the-advance-age-of-71 still highly desireable keister.

Deek and hounds slept in the ATM alcove last night, and barely a bark was heard. Which made me realize that not EVERY night is so flush with rowdy or sketchy barflies and meth heads strolling by that cause the dogs to bark into the wee hours, in their urge to courageously protect their master. It was a touching scene right out of O’Henry’s tales: mutts were curled up together like yin and yang, atop a thick coat and safely embraced in Deek’s arms. Shopping cart close by on the sidewalk blocking the trio like a protective buttress from the passersby, and sparsely filled with bags, clothing and two cans of dog food.

I woke up around 6:30 AM, peered out my window to see the cart was still there, indicating so were they. But by 8:30 AM my three angels were gone, though within earshot as I could hear their barks off in the distance, once in awhile. When I returned the newly charge gizmos to him last night, I told him I need to ask a big favor, though it’s easy to do…just very important:

“I may have to go to court to fight this eviction, Deek,” I said, “so I need all the friends I can get, who live in this building. But some are pissed off because two nights ago, the dogs were barking like wild until 4 AM or so. Kept everyone awake, including myself.

Deek then interrupted with a nervous gesture and was about to say something, but I cut him off:

“Please, hear me out! When you sleep on a sidewalk with heavy foot traffic, the hounds are gonna bark constantly, because they think they need to protect you; they’re gret guard dogs.”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Deek interrupted once again, with a dismissive wave of the hand. But I needed to say more:

“If you really want to sleep by my building, do it on the 16th Street side, right around the corner. Hardly any foot traffic, and the dogs will no longer bark. Besides, they need their rest, it’s not healthy for them to be awake most of the night, warning strangers off.” I continued:

“And there are OTHER quiet areas besides the back of my building where you can sleep close by: there by Cafe Flore on Noe Street, or right across Market by that tiny corner garden.” I pointed each place out as I spoke. “But why do I have to tell YOU? You know all the spots already.”

“Alright, alright, no problem,” he assured me in a friendly tone. But then he went off on another one of his appeals to take me up to his room for a quickie. Not that he mentioned sex in any way:

“C’mon, just for a few minutes, I need to wash up, Zeke! The dogs’ll be fine down here.” I saw that the pups were already snoozing on a jacket he laid down for them. hunkered down in a corner of the ATM alcove. But I would NEVER allow them to be left alone, no matter what, no matter how short a time. I love them too much.

I went through the same spiel many times before on this matter…that I don’t want to do that anymore, Covid is still floating around and I’m vulnerable due to my age (so I refuse to have anyone over), etc. But to that rote list I added:

“That’s the WORST thing I could do, considering my present situation fighting this evicition, Deek! They know who you are, that the pups are yours, and their late-night barking has angered my neighbors!” (Not that anyone’s confronted me about this, good physician, but I’m sure it has, and I don’t blame them. They may have even complained to Kevin, who knows.)

“Just tell ’em you needed me to carry a box upstairs for you,” he persisted, “it’ll only take a few minutes.” Then he made the following declaration that chapped my ass like it was naked in a sandstorm:

“C’mon, this could be our last time, you’re gonna be evicted soon!”

I was floored, but quickly regained my composure, told him no, I may have a good defense, so I need to ride this out…and if he really cares that I keep this room, he’ll stop camping out nights in front of the building.

“NOT gonna happen, Deek, not ever anymore,” I firmly stated. “We’re through here, now gimme your devices so I can return home. I’m tired and need my sleep; I’ve been preparing my case all day long, with phone calls and emails, typing away like mad.”

He finally acquiesced, extracted three small devices from his pocket and handed them over. But he wouldn’t give up:

“I do so many things for you, don’t you think I deserve this break?”

“No because even though you’re an excellent man, I cannot and do not want to do that anymore, and you have to respect my wishes. It would destroy our friendship if I caved in to you, Deek!”

I then turned and walk towards the gate, but stopped once I opened it, to turn my face back in his direction, and say:

“I do SO much for you, too, Deek…and your dogs. So count your blessings, you should be happy, you’ve got a heck of a lot going for you these days!”

He looked back at me with a sort of “okay, fine” expression on his mug, and a half smile. I said once more with a grin, “Count your blessings,” before disappearing behind the gate.

I was disappointed to see them still parked below my window as the hour approached midnight, after my appeal for him to NOT sleep in front of the building. At which time I delivered his gizmos back to him, fully charged. I had to rouse him awake to do that, so said god bless you before I departed once more. But as the minutes and hours wore on, there WAS no barking after all. That is when it occurred to me it’s just Friday and Saturday nights that are problematic. So I’ll adjust my request on this matter next time we meet up, tell him something like: “Sleeping there is fine, it’s just the weekends you need to crash elsewhere.”

One more thing, Wattson:

I neglected to mention in an earlier missive, this fascinating tidbit regarding Micah, and the import of his words he flung my way two days ago, about Deek’s shortcomings:

It was if I was talking to myself…his assessments all matched everything I myself have to say about Deek’s flaws, word for word. Thus it stunned me as he rattled off an impressive list of drawbacks identical to my OWN list. Though by the same token it was quite reassuring to realize that some of the homeless are well aware of what Deek needs to work on–and FAST–should he truly desire to NOT have his pups absconded or injured. I trust they will guide him with loving concern over the next few weeks, and set him on a better path. For I can no longer provide those sweet little dogs with sanctuary, even in an emergency.


Come to think of it, O’Henry could have NEVER composed a script as spectacular as this. But who then did? Arwyn, of course. All the profound mysteries and intrigue contained in my vast collection of Brindlekin Tales shall soon be revealed, I have a hunch.

– Zeke K-Holmes

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