I recently received the kind donation of two sturdy leashes, among other needed items. Neither Lucky nor Flaco seems to have any interest in standard doggy toys, so I make do with old jackets, rubbery plastic containers, bandannas, extra thick plastic bags that once contained puppy treats, an old shoe or slipper, and so on. So of course the leashes would become a handy favorite…handy for me as well, because it’s a great distraction while taking them for walks, in that they’ll bark less often, at things they perceive as a threat to their guardian, imagined or otherwise. Sometimes they’ll even bark at a pile of rags or clothing because it resembles a homeless person sleeping beneath it (and sometimes they are!). They’ll also bark at anyone standing at, and looking out of, a second-story window…as if that’s just logically wrong!
So, while I may need new leashes less often, since they are no longer under the care of my homeless friend, Deek (whose doggy possessions are quickly worn out) I will still need them replenished more often than I first thought. They’re pretty durable (the leashes that is, but yeah, the pups, too), but I’ll have to remove the thick rubber coating around the handle and two other sections before long…as their teeth cut into them, causing pieces to break off and thus be swallowed. Still, the leashes are perfectly intact and sturdy, minus the rubberized protection. A win/win situation all around. That’s the “leash” I can do for such an exquisite canine duo.
Subject: Sweetening the Pot From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 24, 2021 5:22 PM
So I printed out an updated resolution, folded it into a legal size envelope, and taped it to their door. Upon returning to my hovel, I glanced at the revised statement once more, to discover that one of the several times I typed “[real name of realtors deleted],” it was, instead, spelled “Ablahblah.” A small panic ensued, as I quietly rushed back to their apartment, hoping they didn’t see it yet. Thank god they didn’t, it was still there. So I gingerly reclaimed it as I heard voices within, and skittered back to my room. Where once again, I had to go through the miserable process of lugging my printer from the storage bin, hook it all up, insert more paper, and reload Windows (because I can’t figure out how to interface Linux with my Deskjet 3000). There is an introductory page this time, which briefly states:
I have given much thought to my proposal for a happy resolution all the way around, and have decided to include these additional conditions: free utilities, Internet service, and garbage pickup…all locks changed and a decent security system provided…partially furnished…complete laundry facilities…no rent increases…occupation of the new residence for as long as you want to stay there, provided you never have more than one housemate.
Enclosed you will find my updated letter. Please toss out the first one, and keep the new one in a secure place. If you should ever misplace or lose it, just let me know, and I will gladly print out a replacement.
Please also note: any false accusation you make against me, will only serve to make my proposal more difficult to achieve, though not impossible.
The actual, revised proposal in full can be read here, in rich text format:
Turns out this will be the opening piece to “Letter to the Landlord (part 3)”…sure hope it’ll be the FINAL segment of this nerve-wracking scenario. Though I DO understand that, as bodhisattvas playing the enemy, they are pressuring me to sharpen my thought processes and writing skills.
Well, whaddya know, just when I completed the paragraph above, there was a knock on my door (around 5:15 PM). It was Adis, with a friend by his side. He told me to stop posting letters to their door, it’ll just cause problems. I replied I have no intention to, and it’s a good resolution. (I noted he wasn’t wearing his mask, but just waving it in his hand.) Then he started to discuss other matters about our conflict, which were pointless. He said it’s not gonna happen (referring to their eviction, I guess). After making the false accusation that one of my dogs bit him, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on (pun intended).
So I told him I don’t want to discuss this, have a good night, then returned to my room. At least, this time he was calm and soft spoken. What an improvement! But look what I had to go through to get his friends to stop potentially exposing residents to covid-19, as well as creating a nuisance and loitering.
I presume his mother will see the letter, because I’m done with this particular approach, and waiting on that attorney to get back to me. I’m open to speaking with her, but in a limited fashion. They both continue to pretend they’ve done no harm. What nonsense, as I’M the one who’s been most impacted by their foolish antics. At any rate, this case SHOULD be elevated to the manager and Ablablah Realty, seeing as they are ultimately responsible for this conflict.
I am accustomed to some people labeling me “crazy,” but I know better: I have a unique way of addressing issues that do NOT employ hypocrisy or lies in order to achieve results. No status quo guy here, Wattson! Besides which, calling someone crazy is a quick tactic to shut down the other person’s side of the argument, and poison people against you.
On another note: Marshall hasn’t read any of my pieces for the past two Fridays! Don’t know why, as he seems to really enjoy reading my material. And it looked like he was going to narrate my Brindlekin Tales chapter to chapter…after all, he’s already read chapters one and two! I was hoping I could splice each one, and upload it to my Youtube channel every Sunday. Now, it looks like I’m gonna have to record the chapters myself, which is far less preferable. Not just because I don’t have the quality audio setup he does, but having another voice read my tales adds diversity and color to my channel. At any rate, it should nonetheless be a good experience for me.
Subject: URGENT! Deek now wants the doggies back! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 25, 2021 9:50 PM
No sooner does one problem begin to subside, than another pops up. Deek came by about 10 minutes ago, and is still outside, sitting in a recess by the corner. When I came out, he told me he wants the dogs back, that I stole them from him. I reminded him we made a verbal agreement, and it’s recorded. I told him I’m taking care of them for him, they’ll die on the streets. I did NOT accuse him of animal abuse, although that’s quite true.
He said he’s missed them, couldn’t be with them for his birthday, and he thought I was his friend. I told him to stop feeling sorry for yourself, I’m doing you a BIG favor…I’m holding the dogs FOR you, not stealing them. (Of course I didn’t add that he was ABUSING them, so I’m protecting them from HIM as well.) But, as usual, no matter how good a friend I am, he somehow manages to find fault and insult and threaten me.
He said the dogs are registered in his name at the SPCA, and he can get the police involved, but he doesn’t want to do that, because I could go to jail. He also said he’s told over fifty street people I’ve stolen them, and they told him to call the police. And he can get these vagrants to beat me up. I just told him to bring it on, I’m not afraid, but I don’t want to stand here any longer and listen to his crap. And if he makes a scene by my building, I WILL call the police. I repeated more than once, that he needs to focus on taking better care of himself, and to trust me that I’m not taking them away from him, permanently.
I know he’s making this all up (about dogs registered in his name, and about how he has many friends ready to attack me), but I’m concerned he’ll start a ruckus near my home. Well, I think I may have friends on my side at this point…including Adis and his mom. And possibly, the manager. He’s not being noisy, I’m not even sure if he’s still outside near the building. At any rate, I seem to never get a break. I tried to tell him he’s blowing this all out of proportion, that he needs to take care of himself while I care for the dogs.
Earlier today, a few homeless dudes were outside the front gate, they had paused by the curb as I stepped onto the sidewalk with the pups. They were not in any way here to confront me, I think it was more of just a coincidence. They were very friendly, and one of them said those are Deek’s dogs. So I said, well, they were, but he sold them to me, and I promised him I’ll take good care of them, and when my publishing takes off and the money comes rolling in, I’ll have a better home for them, and for Deek. Then I departed and wished them a good evening; they did too.
Oh, and I also mentioned they’re little doggies, they’d die out here in all this cold weather. One guy DID kinda sneer at me, saying that’s ridiculous, they’re perfectly fine out here. I did NOT mention that Deek has been abusing them, not just by allowing them to be totally exposed to the rain and cold, but yelling at them often, shoving them, and even kicking them (not hard, but not gently, either).
Hopefully, this is not a sign of things to come re. Deek poisoning the homeless against me! But I can handle that, too…I doubt any of them have it together enough to be a serious problem. What I DON’T need is for him or any of his “friends” to start making a big scene around my building! What I DO need is for Boulevard Joe to see my video, as he is an important arbitrator for me, to the houseless crowd. In fact, he’s the only one, and leaves a lot to be desired; nonetheless, he’s better than most out there.
Now how long is THIS gonna drag on?
Re: URGENT! Deek now wants the doggies back! From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 25, 2021 1:07 AM
You‘ll prevail, I have no doubt.
Yes, of course. A couple of dudes are hangin’ out with Deek, they’re not noisy, but almost loud enough to disturb my semi-fascist neighbor. This sucks donkey balls. However, they seem pretty darn friendly, and have indicated no sign of any kind of hostility. Deek’s probably gonna stick around into the morning, when I’ll have to take the dogs out again. And I really can’t go out back in the morning, unless I stay close to the back gate again. And there’s a camera overlooking it, so the manager will see me jam the door with a bottle and get upset…so I’ll have to explain about Deek, and he’ll get even MORE upset!
I think I’ll just take them out back for some days to come, then step out by myself through the front, to get my groceries. And if I see Deek, I’ll tell him the pups are staying at a friend’s place where they have a backyard to freely (and safely) romp around. If only that were true!
He DID call to the dogs earlier, but not loudly. Just some whistles, then called “Lucky! Lucky!” several times. Well guess what, Wattson: neither dog paid him any mind. I think they KNOW to keep silent.
Lucky threw up his entire dinner tonight…it was clear fluid mixed in with the food. I think perhaps the duck jerky treats I crumble up into his kibble are too rich in the long run. But I need to find SOMEthing extra to put in it, to keep their appetite up. He didn’t eat anything last night again…this morning he ate a full meal, and late afternoon he did, likewise; but that’s what he threw up later on.
Maybe he’s sensitive to prolonged cold weather, as last night he just wanted to curl up on the bed…and you could really feel the temperature drop, as I leave one window wide open, usually. Flaco, too, curled up early, even though she ate her meal. Their little bodies seek to preserve heat, so eating is not always a priority. Once I shut the window, the whole room warmed up nicely. Still, it’s not SO cold they really need to do that…more like instinct. They love fluffing up the comforters, and I love tucking them in.
I took my brindlekin out the back way tonight, told them “shh” keep quiet, and they did: silent as can be, as we made our way down the rickety old stairs (where they stepped very cautiously, as it was new to them), then through the basement, then up a concrete stairway and out the gated door. Lucky threw up some more, outside, also plopped diarrhea…Flaco didn’t need to poop. They’ve both been having solid, firm poops for quite some time now, so I’m disappointed and a bit worried about Lucky’s change. Anyway:
I swear, this is like living in Nazi Germany. In this day and age I have to sneak around like this! I could say now I know how Anne Frank felt, but that’s over the top.
Subject: Is your crisis still surging, or beginning to subside? From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 25, 2021 10:54 AM
Referring to your email of Nov. 7, when you said:
I’m under huge pressure on several different fronts. My survival is at stake, and that’s not an exaggeration.
I am hoping with all my heart, that things are on the upswing by now. I do NOT like to think of you going through such a terrible ordeal. You are SUCH a good person, and so important to many, including myself of course.
Anyway, got up this morning, stepped out w/o the doggies first thing, to see if Deek were still around and, much to my relief, he was not. So resumed our regular walk up and down Noe Street for three blocks. Lucky was in cheerful spirits, growling and playfully gripping his teeth about the heel of one or the other of my sneakers (and sometimes the shoelaces), as I carefully but clumsily guided them down the stairs and out the front gate. What a muttley crew we make!
Re: Is your crisis still surging, or beginning to subside? From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 25, 2021 1:00 PM
Things are a little better. I still have to solve the same problems, but the main one, completing a piece of work I’m being paid to do and meet my deadline, seems to be moving along pretty well. Finishing that, and doing a first-rate job of it, will quite possibly lead to solutions to the gang of problems that follow me around like tin cans tied to a dog’s tail.
EXCELLENT news, Wattson! That is EXACTLY what will happen. I look immensely forward to reading your latest masterpiece. HOPING it will fast become a bestseller as well.
Very glad Deek moved on.
Well, just for today…he could return at any time and cause trouble. Keeping my fingers crossed he does NOT. I have this fantasy of him starting to holler and strike out at me, when just like that, Larkin appears out of the blue and knocks him to the ground and orders him to leave immediately, or he’ll see worse. I then thank him profusely, and begin to tell him about my situation with the doggies…but he stops me, says “I already know!” Meaning that he reads my Brindlekin Tales, or more likely, his roommate, Zachary, does, then describes each chapter to him in capsule form. What soon follows is a small cadre of the Blue Rose Militia organized and run by Larkin, occupying my part of the Castro 24/7, in order to protect me and my brindlekin from any further harassment. This would then lead to many OTHER incredible scenarios, like the blossoming of a rose…and a blue one at that.
Some nerve–he collects $300 from you, then says you “stole” them. So fucking childish.
Well, it was actually $400, if you include the $100 I gave him in the morning of that same day (and $400 WAS the amount he’s been saying all along, is his asking price for the pooches…which set me off in a panic, because I didn’t HAVE that sum, and Deek refused to accept monthly lumps of a hundred dollars). But this is EXACTLY why I demanded to video record the transaction…because I know his devious nature: that he planned to collect the moolah, then turn around some time later and accuse me of stealing his pups. However, let us not stop at such a dark level of summation, but move to higher ground, like so:
Deek, like Larkin, is one of my guardian angels (or “bodhisattvas,” to put a Buddhist spin on it) acting out a scripted scenario, wherein I am the main character and HERO of this amazing play. It makes perfect sense, then, that almost immediately after my conflict with the occupants of apartment 208 (that mother-and-son duo) begins to peacefully resolve itself, Deek would show up from stage right and begin the NEXT act, the NEXT challenge. Though it may be sufficient just to threaten yet another debacle, without it ever really manifesting. Whether true or not doesn’t really matter, because it’s already been writ that I shall beat all odds, no matter how unlikely that seems.
Change of subject:
Disappointing that the Duboce Triangle Newsletter has skipped their January issue, as that is the one that was supposed to print my New Year’s satire. Which would’ve drummed up at least a handful of locals who’d visit my Brindlekin page, and see my homeless doggy appeal with those links to my wish list and GoFundMe project. MAYBE my tale will come out in February, but I’m certainly not holding my breath. What a painful slog this has been these past few months, albeit with many a miracle tossed my way…so how can I really complain?
I forgot to inform you, when I uploaded that brief tour of my hovel to Youtube, that, as the camera pans from left to right, you get a glimpse of your book “Twilight in Somalia” atop the storage bin next to my closet. Nice touch, eh? Here it is, again:
And I wonder if there will be further repercussions with the building manager and Ablahblah Realty, over the maskless intruders. If that attorney I appealed to DOES finally get in touch with me, I hope he’s actually qualified to decide whether or not I have a good case at this point. I’m sure I will, if my neighbors across the hallway provide solid witness to my complaint. The likelihood that Kevin Bond (our manager) AGREED with 208 that these teenagers were free to hang out in our building, maskless or no–without even asking or informing residents in that same hallway–does not look good for either him OR Ablahblah. But, due to the added, and most egregious, offense of their refusal to wear a mask, I’m kinda sure they’d prefer an out-of-court settlement. But a girl can only conjecture, can’t she? Seeing as obviously, they, too, are actors in this “Zeke the Hero” play, a very different scenario could play out…one which, nonetheless, works in my favor. I’m SURE that the realtors have finally received my remailed letter of complaint by now. Oh, what an interesting world this is!
I have also changed pseudonym “Moohammud” to “Adis,” in order to avoid any accusation of Islamophobia…a phobia which, I firmly believe, does NOT exist. Nevertheless, it could weaken my case, due to pin-headed droids that populate the legal system (and more generally, society at large). So I went ahead and redacted all chapters relevant to this name change.
As for the next stimulus payment–which will probably be $2,000–I’m sure Deek will show up again, to demand his half. But I reFUSE to give it to him, as ALL that money will be transferred into my GoFundMe project as soon as it shows up. Furthermore, I consider the chapter of “The Book of Zeke & Deek” where I help him with an allowance and half of all my stimulus boons, to be finally CLOSED, now that I have the responsibility of caring for the doggos, which of course includes veterinarian expenses. This sum will allow me to get them ALL the recommended shots, health checkup, chipping and rabies tag. I’m guessing the whole enchilada will come to around $300 at most. (Maybe less if I prove my low income by providing them with the required papers.) But I need the additional money from this stimulus, as an emergency reserve for Lucky & Flaco.
Whew! That’s it for now.
Subject: Around 4:35 PM today… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 25, 6:21 PM
…upon returning from my afternoon stroll with the brindlemutts, I bumped into Dieter right outside our building. So I told him all about my conflict with the Bonnie & Clyde duo in 208, how the manager posted a letter to my door about one of my dogs supposedly biting her son and drawing blood, and a whole bunch of other stuff, but in quick, outline form. I ended with explaining my Buddhist solution for the most compassionate resolution as possible, and if it goes to court I will demand a decent apartment for them, with all the amenities I laid out.
Well, right when I finished up out comes Kevin, and Flaco starts barking…though not loudly, but more like a “hey, there’s that nice guy from the lobby” kind of greeting. This was around 4:35 PM. So Kevin crouched down a bit to extend his hand, at which point Flaco grew quiet and started sniffing…then backed up and barked her little yelps all over again. This entire time, Lucky remained silent, as if he were actually bored.
So then I pointed to each dog, and said: “This is Flaco, and this is Lucky, the stars of my Youtube channel and my WordPress blog; and soon to be the stars of the Castro. Have a great evening, gentlemen!”
Funny thing is that Adis (Myrtle’s son who accused one of my pups of biting him) and a friend were near the front gate, hanging around, when I approached with my key already in hand. As I worked the lock, the doggies kept barking at him, and I told the mutts: “C’mon, you’re not the big shots around here, calm down!” Finally, the gate opened and we arrived once more at my hovel, a.k.a. “Doggie Rescue Sanctuary.”
So now Dieter knows all, and he loves the dogs. At first five or so encounters they barked at him, but after several more times they grew friendly, till now they love greeting him, and they’re not wary of his wheelchair any more, whether he’s sitting on it, or walking it along in its folded state. Best of all:
He is now a WITNESS to their peaceful nature, as they did not bite, or even nip at, Kevin’s hand.
Now, here is how I’m gonna deal with Deek’s probable returns to my building…who thinks I’ll have to step out eventually, to walk the pooches. He may come to realize that perhaps I use the back gate, and station someone there.
THEY SHALL RELIEVE THEMSELVES IN THE BASEMENT!
I’ll have a bottle of “Woolite Advanced Pet Stain & Odor Remover + Sanitizer” handy, some rags and newspaper, and latex gloves. There will be absolutely NO odor remaining, when I’m done. Easy to clean, as the floor’s cement. And NOBODY HARDLY EVER GOES DOWN THERE, it’s quiet as a church on Monday morning. A big plus is the utility sink. The basement has a back gate where air flow constantly cools and airs everything out. IOW it’s not a real door that shuts off the outside. There is a camera down there, as well as over the back stairs. And if Deek stations someone by that gate, his face will show up on the camera. Plus he won’t hear us down there, as the steps leading to it from the gate are about fifteen feet to the far end of the basement, and the dogs are really quiet.
Of course, the manager will eventually notice my activity via the security videos, at which time I’ll explain the situation: that I’ve led Deek to believe the dogs are now staying at a friend’s home with a nice backyard so they get plenty of exercise. And probably, this situation won’t go on for long…and besides it’s only at night, and probably won’t be very often. Deek will come to believe the dogs now live elsewhere, so no point in continuing with his little spy game. And if one of his “detectives” sees me walking the mutts, I’ll just convey to Deek that I visit them every day and take them for their daily strolls, as well as feed them and play with them in the backyard. And that two COPS live there. Ha, ha.
This afternoon, for the first time, the doggies went wild in my hovel! They dashed around the room like ricocheting nerf bullets, bouncing on and off the bed and into the walls, chasing and wrestling each other down. They are really happy! Of course, that totally obliterates the orderly way I have newspaper sheets laid down, to give them a clean floor to lie down on, when they want. And in case either dog pukes, or has an accident. Oh, well, still no biggie to thoroughly clean up. My room has absolutely no doggie stink, because I am so prompt with wiping up and disinfecting and deodorizing. Even if it’s 4:30 AM or some other wee hour, I’m on top of it.
Oh, and I found a new technique to get them to eat their entire meal…seeing as they’ve gotten better at pick the little pieces of treats I so carefully broke up with either my fingers, or a heavy utility scissors. The answer is to GRATE the damned turkey jerky, so it’s totally diffused into the rest of the food, thanks to the wet canned vittles I mix in with the kibble. But the cheap grater I now have takes a hell of a lot of work to grind down three pieces of jerky, which average two square inches each, and are rather tough. Time to look up what quality graters are available on Amazon, and purchase one with my GoFundMe account! I COULD put it on the wish list, but I don’t want to wait very long, as it IS a tedious chore that gets my goat, and I’d like to put an end to that ASAP.
So there’s my day for ya…other than working on my tales, videos and recordings.
Re: Around 4:35 PM today… From: Zeke Krahlin To: My Dear Wattson Date: January 26, 2021 2:56 PM
You’re a fine Doggie Daddy. The basement plan sounds good. You could maybe train them to “go” directly on newspapers. But it sounds ideal.
That’s the plan. Once, when I ignored Lucky’s pleas to take him for a walk, because I didn’t know that’s what he needed, he finally trotted over to some sheets of newspaper near the window, and pooped! So, no training necessary, just lay the paper on the concrete, and they’re good to go (pun intended). In fact, they prefer to lay on the floor instead of the cot, when the room is not chilly. But the floor is dirty, and impossible to keep clean, due to its exposed, softwood condition. They’ll lie down on the floor anyway, but the moment I lay down some newspaper, they’ll move to THAT spot immediately. But I now keep most of the floor covered with newspaper anyway, so they’ll have clean spots on which to rest.
Just FYI–another friend in SF, also 70 and not exactly rolling in $$, reported to me that she got a COVID vax yesterday. An appointment, no waiting in line, free. First she called this number: 682-1900. They asked a few questions, set up the appt., and she got the shot at SF General.
Like I really want to go all the way to SF General with the doggies. That’s not gonna work, but thanks. I’m not about to ride a crowded bus with dogs that have never been on one, so their reaction is totally unpredictable…besides, I avoid public transit for obvious reasons, even w/o the pups. And I’m not gonna hoof it on over there, going through the sketchy Mission District, and Artemis knows how many lunatics I’ll have to deal with. And then do it all over, to get back hovel. I’m guessing your friend had a vehicle, or took a cab. Also, that hospital is rife with filthy, crazy, addicted (and often quite scary) vagrants who have nowhere else to go for emergency care. I do NOT care to mingle in that trash…and I can’t imagine how the dogs would deal with it. In fact, I don’t see WHY everyone doesn’t just AVOID that hospital like the plague (pun also intended)! Slapping Zuckerberg’s name to it should’ve been a wake-up call.
I’ll just wait till the vaccines are available closer to home, such as Walgreens or a pop-up clinic. It’s not like I go to, or through, any high or moderate exposure areas…not even supermarkets. So I’m not worried at all. Besides which, my destiny has grown crystal clear these past few months, and catching covid or any OTHER illness is NOT in the cards. Not that I foolishly abandon all the safety measures because of that, I just know I’ll be perfectly fine through anything, any more. What’s happening in my life these days is astounding, and definitely NOT normal. Now, for some doggie updates:
I LOVE my Alvarado Street sprouted whole wheat raisin bread, but it’s a five-block journey to Golden Produce Health Food Store, so I have to take the pooches with me. I know no other place closer that sells it, except perhaps Whole Foods and Safeway…both within the same walking distance as Golden Produce. But, as I said, I avoid supermarkets entirely. I don’t care to take my brindlekin inside ANY shops, but it worked out fine, two weeks ago, when we went to the health food store. They were calm, silent and stayed close to me without any urging on my part! Between my favorite raisin bread replenishments, I go for five or six days on organic oatmeal breakfast, which is great, too, because I add to it chia seeds, hemp hearts and flax seed meal. Anyway, today I returned again for another loaf of raisin bread, with the dogs.
It is run by a Cambodian family that is typically Asian when it comes to keeping shop. IOW: they feign friendliness, up to a point. They actually NEVER treat long-term customers any different than sporadic (or even one-time) customers. Today was a perfect example. Soon as I stepped in with the pups, the woman who works there immediately pointed at them and started blabbing about how sometimes dogs run around in the wine section and break bottles. This IS a store that allows pets to enter. In fact, one day a man stepped in while I was there, with a large dog UNLEASHED! And I remarked to that same woman, that I find it alarming you allow dogs to come in here without a leash. Anyway:
She was not there the first time I appeared with the doggos; instead, her brother was…and he saw how well behaved they are. (Nonetheless, he did not say a THING about my doggies, even though it was the first time after shopping there all these years, that I’ve walked in with a pet, let alone two.) But SHE treated me like this was the first time I brought them in because it was the first time SHE saw them. Instead of remarking how lovely the dogs are, or something else of a friendly nature, she literally BARKED at me! And I’ve never seen her act that way towards anyone else accompanied by a canine. So I just cut her off:
“They’ve been here before, and no problem, they’re perfectly fine and I keep them on a leash!”
“Oh,” she replied, then scooted away.
You know what? I BET they voted for Trump…most shop owners are Republican, after all. That is one reason I said to them more than once: “I don’t see WHY anyone would ever vote Republican, they’re such an evil party.” Each of the several times I’ve said that, or something like it, none of them made any remark in return.
Now, once I arrived hovel, I removed their leashes halfway up the stairs, because I heard not a peep from any activity in the hallways. Thus, they could romp about for a couple of minutes before stepping inside. But just when I unlatched their collars, I heard someone enter the front gate. So I quickly hooked a couple of fingers with each hand, around each dog’s collar. Because in such a situation, it is impossible to get the leashes back on, without letting go of one of them. I slowly began to drag them to my door, but the resident was too quick for me, and arrived right beside us.
So, of course, barking ensued…but this time from Flaco only; Lucky remain peaceful. But this fellow likes them both, and has no problem with any barking. In fact, he asked if he could watch them “zoom” up and down the corridor. I told him they don’t do that if someone else is here, because they’re not used to seeing ANYone else in the corridor or lobby, except me. (A dearth of residents passing through is one of the results of this pandemic.)
Anyway, he was quite friendly to the dogs, even though Flaco kept on barking, and I really wanted to take her into my room, but this guy’s a potential ally in a possible lawsuit against Ablahblah Realty. Wanna guess why? I’ll give you a moment.
[a moment’s pause]
Because HE is one of the couple that lives across from me, who was even MORE impacted by the maskless, teenage loiterers than I was! They would make the BEST witnesses in support of my grievance, than anyone else in the building. He then asked if I know Lucky’s history, and I said, well, I think I know some of it, but it could all be hearsay, so, yes, I’d like to hear it. BTW, my dear Wattson, he KNOWS who Deek is, and has seen him and the doggies many times…and KNOWS I now own them, that I purchased them from Deek, and recorded the verbal contract. (He did remark that time, that he hopes this won’t bring problems to the building; I just firmly said “Nope.”) But here is what he told me:
Lucky was STOLEN from that middle-aged fellow who owns another dog that is almost the spitting image of Lucky, except HIS has not been neutered. I’ve mentioned him to you before, that I see him around two or three times a week, strolling up and down Noe Street. But I haven’t seen him any time recently, at least four months I’d say…and even Les brought that up to me just a couple days ago.
So I said that story IS different from what Deek told me, who claims he was gifted that dog, because the owner couldn’t handle or afford two of them. But I made it clear to my neighbor that this, too, could be hearsay, as Deek often makes things up, due to his bipolar nature.
At any rate, he was very cordial, not accusatory or upset in any other way. He just enjoyed sharing (I presume, though there could be a hidden motive). Besides which, Deek and Lucky were in the Castro almost every day, while the original owner was out and about, walking his OWN dog. You’d think if he wanted Lucky back, he could’ve easily achieved that, long before now.
But I’ve researched what my rights are and, at this point in time, ownership is legally mine. And he and Flaco are very dear friends to each other; so it would be a major heartbreak for both, were they separated. I just want to point out here, that one dilemma after another keeps being hurled at me, and I am SICK AND TIRED OF IT! I wouldn’t bother to step out any more, only that doesn’t seem to work either, as trouble comes to me no matter what. I could stay in my room 24/7 and still, it will hunt me down, and bang at my very door! This has LITERALLY happened to me more than once…in fact, quite a few times over the years…maybe as much as twenty or so.
So we ended our chat amicably, and I FINALLY got to bring the dogs inside. There was no Deek anywhere in sight last night, nor any confrontations with his “friends.” But who knows? This may just be the eye of the storm. This city is rife with people who just love to stir up shit, to whomever they decide to fuck with. It’s been like that, and keeps getting worse, ever since the Free Speech Movement died out. And THAT’S a long, long time, mon incroyable confidente. And my SRO situation, having lived in the same spot for many years–smack dab in the middle of Gossipville–makes me a sitting duck.
No story, just a sweet photograph. What the hey: I’ve tossed in ten short videos for your further muttly pleasure.
Title: Not a Good Idea
These pups don’t really have any doggy toys to play with, so I try to come up with items that they like to chew on, and are safe. This one didn’t work out. But look how cute Wiley’s ears are! I sometimes call her “My little Yoda.” And check out those laser eyes: she’s got super-powers! Notice I inadvertently called Taco “Lucky,” because that’s his real name…which I changed in my work-in-progress, “Brindlekin Tales.” Wiley’s real name is “Flaco,” which is Spanish for “skinny,” and pronounced “flah-koh.”
Title: Some Harnesses are Just Good to Chew on
Twelve of these orange harnesses (with leashes) were left behind about a year ago, at some SPCA event here in San Francisco. This was back before Deek adopted Wiley, but already had Taco for seven months. The harnesses turned out to be a loose fit, and couldn’t be adjusted. But they also came with leashes that were very good… but have since been all used up. I still have these harnesses stashed away in a bag on my loft. So I thought today, maybe they’d like to use them for chew toys, and that is exactly what they did.
Title: When Lucky Doesn’t Wanna Eat
It’s rare when Lucky isn’t hungry, but when he really doesn’t want to eat, he lets you know in the clearest way possible! He’ll even knock over the dish, if I don’t take it away. This is totally unrelated to the two pups’ recent and simultaneous sudden loss of appetite that lasted for almost five days, but was finally resolved with a slight change in their diet. Please note I’ve been calling him “Taco” when he was owned by someone else…for book publishing purposes. Now, I’m dropping the pseudonym, since I’m his new guardian, as I am also for Flaco, whose fake name was Wiley.
Title: Play-Fighting (1 of 4)
Always a delight to watch them play and fight!
Title: Play-Fighting (2 of 4)
Always a delight to watch them play and fight!
Title: Play-Fighting (3 of 4)
Always a delight to watch them play and fight!
Title: Play-Fighting (4 of 4)
Always a delight to watch them play and fight!
Title: Post Play-Fighting (1 of 3)
Check out Lucky’s teeth…they remind me of that cartoon doggy character Mr. Peabody’s teeth!
Title: Post Play-Fighting (2 of 3)
Are they calling it quits, or do they feel imposed upon by my camera? They certainly don’t mind pooping in front of the entire world.
A 30-pound package of Pedigree brand kibble arrived today from a kind donor of my Amazon Doggie Wish List. Naturally, it arrived in a large box, which the doggies took over for their own little hidey-space. Four lovely pics and eleven sweet videos (plus a bonus special video at the end)…all wrapped up in a box for your canine pleasure! Click on any pic for a larger view.
Subject: Doggies started to eat again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 11:22 PM
They began enjoying a few of their chicken-chew treats, then I brought out the remaining half of the roast hen that I placed in the fridge, pulled off a couple of small pieces to see how they’d like it or not. Sure enough, they gobbled it down! So I went ahead and stripped ALL the white meat off the bones, breaking it up into doggie bite-size pieces, and nuked it in the microwave…then divvied it up between two dog bowls. When I went to carry the bowls to the sink area where I have them drink and dine, they were already jumping around me. A fine little feast was had by all! I just hope we can get back to the kibble and gravy-style canned foods soon. I can’t afford a whole roasted bird every day for them! Once a week, yes.
Oh, and they’re both drinking plenty of water again. Huzzah!
Re: Doggies started to eat again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 8, 2021 12:58 PM
That’s a major relief. Any theories as to what was up with them? Something Deek fed them, maybe?
No, I’ve had them for so many straight days now, that can NOT be the problem. I’m thinking maybe it’s all this cold weather that’s been going on for a LONG stretch, with even daytime only a few degrees warmer. Or perhaps recovering from the trauma of a harsh street life, which didn’t kick in till awhile later. Perhaps lack of exercise. Those are my educated guesses. There is NO sign of parasitic infection. They remain bright and sweet natured as always.
This morning, Taco ate a whole can of the Pedigree gravy-style “Chicken & Brown Rice” entree…but Wiley only noshed a few bites. She sometimes eats the chicken-chew treats, but not every time. This is kind of a flip-flop, since yesterday Wiley ate more, while Taco ate little. It’s balancing out in a sketchy manner. I have no idea what I should try next, such as purchasing a couple of chicken breasts and cooking them myself. At least it will cost me a lot less than a rotisserie chicken! There is also a pricey pet-dog store just around the corner, that serves healthy treats and food in bins. I’ll drop in there later today with the doggies, and ask them to let me try out a small handful of some of their product…and glad to pay for the samples.
It’s amazing how well housed trained these brindlekin are! They always let me know when they have to relieve themselves…and with plenty of time to gather everything required for our next walk (jackets, leashes, poop bags, my shoes and smartphone). Either one will pace the floor with emphatic “esprit,” pausing by the door and gazing up at me with a most sincere, dachshundly expression, so as to make it very clear there’s no mistake that nature is calling once more. In fact, Wiley started her pacing at 4:30 this morning, so off we went to the empty streets in the quietest time of night. Though that’s not saying much, as a garbage truck was doing its thing nearby, first on my stretch of Market Street, then up Noe, where I always take the dogs for their poop-‘n’-piss.
Wiley will also start scratching on the door to let me know things are getting urgent. Last night they both chose to stretch out alongside my torso, one overlapping the other vertically, when I crawled into bed. Later into the wee hours, they both migrated around my feet and calves, thus keeping me toasty warm down there. They ALWAYS radiate boundless good cheer the moment I arise to start a new day. My heart sings for many reasons, these days…and it all started with Taco, then a bit later, Wiley!
I now ALWAYS keep the smartphone in a pocket whenever I step out, with or without the doggies. Because it contains that video of Deek’s contract. Just in case any street person questions if I’ve stolen his furry companions. And, of course, I also carry a small canister of pepper spray…but that is something I’ve always done ever since Pres. Clinton signed DOMA and DADT. On another note:
I JUST OPENED A NEW BANK ACCOUNT FOR MY GOFUNDME PROJECT! And the matching debit card will soon arrive in the mail. I feel like I’m creating a whole new reality not just for myself, but for the world…starting with a personal mission, then expanding into possibly the best dog charity service for the homeless…then spreading out even further into many other compassionate ventures, which I can only imagine but not predict, at this embryonic stage of a true miracle just starting to blossom. “Mighty oaks from little acorns grow!” On yet another note:
I conjecture that this January 16th will be an eventful day for me, seeing as that is the anniversary of Randolph’s suicide attempt when he shot himself, and survived. I’ve already written some articles about how, if I become THAT influential, I’ll create a NEW holiday season to replace our present one…which will stretch from December 30th (Randy’s birthday) to January 16th. And in light of these profound events now unfolding in my life, I imagine that the coming 16th will be some kind of astounding day…maybe not just for yours truly, but for the entire Castro District, or even the city at large. In comparing him to the Christos myth, I’d say his failure to kill himself is something to celebrate, a sort of resurrection; and that his crucifixion already occurred as a consequence of living through the worst ravages of wartime tragedy.
Did you sleep well last night? Your well-being is at the top of my list…for you are NOT just exceedingly important to me, but to many other good people. I’m sure the very BEST of your work is ahead of you, and not far off at all. I look forward to your next masterpiece with Great Expectations. (The Dickens, I say!)
Subject: The Les I Know From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 9, 2021 12:34 AM
Over several months now, Les (of the corner shop two blocks up Noe) and I sometimes discuss my lovely brindlekin, which he knows are kept by my homeless friend, Deek, and that I help out. Well, a few days ago he remarked how I treat them like a million dollars and I retorted, well, that’s how they SHOULD be treated; and he said well, you’re treating them a lot better than your friend does, he leaves them to sleep on the sidewalk at night, keeps them completely exposed to the rain and gets angry at them a lot. I told him if you don’t think I have endless heart attacks over this, you’re mistaken! And that’s why I have the doggies over so often, to give them respite from the streets and Deek’s sad neglect and short fuse. Well I wasn’t gonna say anything but now it’s outta the bottle, they shouldn’t even be outside in the rain, they’re just little dogs, he said and I said yes you’re absolutely right. If you’re homeless and want a dog, get the large furry kind, like a Siberian husky, not the thin-furred and small ones, he added, and I said tell me something I don’t already know. (Though I still think it’s downright cruel to force ANY canine to live on the streets, no matter their size or hirsuteness…though I get his point.)
When I saw him today, with the loyal pups at my feet of course, I told him, well, the mutts are now mine! And explained the conflict that ensued, and how I wisely negotiated buying them off for $400. Thank God for that second stimulus check, it’s saved the doggies’ lives! Better have it in writing, he warned, but I said that wasn’t possible, he was abhorrent over the very idea, as he was with including a reliable witness, but he finally conceded to a video recording of our transaction, because I sort of forced his hand. I even called 911 because he was so out of line that day, and no way was I ever gonna surrender these darling pooches unto a horrid existence to a crazy speed freak, with whom they’ll likely fall ill and perish sooner than later. Well, I don’t know Zeke, he admonished, you know how people are about their dogs, this could cause you a lot of trouble. I assured him I have this under control, Deek lacks the wherewithal for any effective retaliation, and that when you know you’re doing the right thing, you stand your ground. Besides, those young men who work at the smoke shop next door to my building HATE Deek, so that’s a plus for me. (I used to resent their noisy, big-shot braggadocio swagger and commiseration right out there on the sidewalk till late at night, non-stop yadda-yadda for hours. But now I praise all the saints and angels in heaven for their presence.)
Upon leaving Les’s friendly little liquor and grocery and sundry establishment with my brindlekin dancing on their leashes, I felt a bit wobbly in the knees because he projected certain fears that gave me a slight anxiety attack…which, however, I overcame in a few short moments. I am NOT about to obsess over some bogeyman named Deek who’s gonna pop out of the blue when I least expect it, and slay me with slashing, flashing, gnashing knives of revenge! I then proceeded back hovel, but first stepped inside Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop just two doors down from Rosenberg’s, that sells gourmet dog food and treats. Expensive, but I gotta find SOME way to end their failed appetite.
So I asked a friendly, dyke employee what snacks and food does she suggest for my two doggies here, whose appetite went south just three days ago. Well, she worked the magic like a champ, handing them sample after sample of various treats by dropping them one by one on the floor, before their cute little schnozzolas. Both Wiley and Taco scarfed ’em up! They were “leather chews,” but really thinner and crisper than you’d expect. I got five slices each of duck, turkey, chicken and boar (yes, you heard me: “boar”)…cost me ten buckaroonies for scant ounces…at fifty-two dollars a pound! As for canned food, she highly recommended the pumpkin blends by “Farmina N&D.” $4.87 for a ten-ounce can! So I purchased the following three: Quail Pomegranate, Duck Cantaloupe and Boar Apple.
Upon returning hovel, I first offered them a couple of leather treats, each about three inches long and two wide. Broke them up into smaller pieces and before I knew it, they had vanished from my hand! Next I opened two of the cans and put the contents in separate bowls. THEY LOVED IT! Leaving, however, about eight percent behind…don’t know what’s up with that. Then, like a rolled up, compressed Japanese paper flower in water, they grew feisty and happy and full of playful energy, trouncing each other upon the bed, and burrowing beneath the comforters in silly jubilation! “Well, this is gonna cost me an arm and a leg taking care of them, I see that now,” I thought. “Better get that GoFundMe project flying ASAP.” But I also thought THIS intriguing observation:
“How convenient that, what with the perambulatory restrictions due to the pandemic, and further such restrictions due to my brindlekin, how unusual is it that everything I actually need is just one or two blocks away from me in any direction? And that I always seem to have at least just enough money for any crisis? Including the sudden, unanticipated stimulus money that allowed me to pay Deek’s ransom fee in the nick of time, before the doggos would be lost to me forever!”
Oh what a frabjous day this has surely turned out to be, Tara! I chortle and burble with glee! Wiley, Taco and myself are a trio of happy campers tonight, languishing in the radiant aura of canine devotion, love and joy. As for the Duboce Triangle Newsletter, in which my New Year’s parody is supposed to be featured on Friday (and it is now evening of that day):
Nothing, yet. For some reason they’re delayed in delivering them to all the local shops and bars. I dropped into Rosenberg’s just a half hour ago, and no success. Hmm, has my hilarious tale of the happiest possible death for everyone, some time this year, gummed up the works of their printing press app? Or did they just laugh themselves into oblivion before they got to tap on the “print” button? Only your hairdresser Yog-Sothoth knows for sure!
Subject: I forgot to add… From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 9, 2021 1:12 AM
…this following vignette, which should be inserted just above the next-to-last paragraph with word “frabjous” in it:
Before I forget, I had this slip of an encounter with my semi-Fascist neighbor Moe, while approaching the corner of Market, Noe and 16th after leaving Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods shop. He was at the curb, preparing to cross and chatting with Kevin Bond, our building manager. I paused about fifteen feet away, when Moe turned his head to me and said, “Oh, you’re dog walking now?”
So I cleverly answered: “Well, it started out that way, but now they’re mine!”
Then the light turned green and I strolled across the intersection with Wiley tugging at the leash and Taco gripping my pants’ right-leg cuff, causing me to hobble like a war veteran with an old wound, as yours truly got us to the gate in one mongrel piece and entered. Yet Moe and Kevin remained in close commiseration all the way over there on that now-distant corner.
I’m sure Kevin will tell him all about it, since he now knows my doggie adventure and how it’s tied up with Deek, thanks to Dieter’s friendly gossip on the stairs two days ago. They seem to have become close friends over the years (Moe and Kevin that is). What, however, is MOST curious, is that the idea of sharing my brindlekin with Moe, in order to ease his grief over his likely-dying mother, started haunting my mind for the past two days. I kept having images of my emailing him, telling about these sweet little mutts, and how he’s welcome to have their company for a satisfying while each day, or whenever. (I’m thinking around an hour or two, perhaps longer.)
And now this afternoon, there is Moe, seeing me with the canines for the first time! How synchronistic and lovely is that?
Re: I forgot to add… From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 9, 2021 8:58 AM
Sounds like har-fucking-monic convergence to me!
Hardy-har-har-fucking-monic convergence, that is. I’m certain the manager is on my side finally, with keeping the doggies in my room, since he is now aware I’ve taken them from Deek. Oh, this is a funny thought that just leaked across my brain pan:
How hilarious to think of manager Kevin’s impression of my simply stating outright before him and Dieter yesterday:
“Deek is abusing these dogs, so I just took them away and want to press animal abuse charges against him, I called 911 and the cops are on their way, and they’re very sweet doggies who deserve better, and I’ll be moving within two months or so anyway, because I now have an excellent publishing contract for my next book which is bound to become a HUGE bestseller. In fact it’s called ‘Brindlekin Tales’ and is all ABOUT Deek and his doggies.”
Besides which there’s a powerful air about me that I will not permit a single crack of doubt to leak through my world’s cranium that would ever make me even THINK of not keeping the mutts with me. So what point would the manager have by telling me I need to give them up? Or even posting a notice to my door, warning that I could be evicted, as a result? It’s OBVIOUS to all but the most troglodytic, that the moment I am challenged by lawful opposition of whatever sort, I will immediately gird my loins and fight back, and win. There is not one single molecule of doubt in my reality, so you’d better not mess with me or the pups, or you’ll have hell to pay for a VERY long time. And I can get away with it, as no one will ever be able to track down the source of this particular homicide.
So now, I’m sure, Kevin told Moe all about it! I’m sure by this time of night, Moe has already been musing over, and laughing at, my latest divine exploit. Whaddya wanna bet he’ll politely ask if I could spare my doggies for awhile each day, where they’ll have more space to run around, and he’ll cover some of the food and any vet costs that might crop up?
Even funnier is that today I emailed Kevin that ATT repairmen will soon drop by to figure out why my DSL land line died since two days ago…and in that email I kept my three-link Brindlekin sites in the sig, starting with my doggy wish list and GoFundMe project! Won’t THEY be surprised to discover they’re both IN my tales! In fact, maybe they’re worrying about that right now, though have yet to start reading my stories to find out. But I sure got two people highly motivated to do just that! I’ll gain my adulating audience one way or another, even if that means robbing a bank and kicking Larkin in the ass while he’s hauling bags of money from the vault, in a lavender wheelbarrow with a pink triangle on it.
Subject: Now they’re NOT eating again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 9, 2021 10:13 PM
I gladly returned today to Jeffrey’s because their high quality canned dog food was a success. But this time, they only ate half a can between them, with Taco ingesting most of even THAT. I wound up feeding Wiley those even pricier leather treats…but of course Taco was sitting a foot away on the cot, watching me with those pleading, round dachshund eyes, so I just had to give him some of that, too. Judiciously granting him tinier portions, of course. So now, the gourmet duck and boar dinners sit in their respective bowls without a hungry guest to enjoy them. Boy do I hate the very idea of throwing all THAT away, but I must do what I must do.
And, to make matters worse, I’m having major problems with Chronic.net service. No phone connection whatsoever for three days, now. And the Internet connection just went out again for twenty minutes, but came back on just now. How much longer will I have even THAT. At which point I can’t even inform them that I’m totally cut off. And why is that (some dump fuck might ask)? Because I’D BE TOTALLY CUT OFF! I already posted you my irate reply to Chronic employee, Isolde, who emailed me directly, so you already have a good idea of my present cyber-dilemma. My Internet connection could be permanently shut down at any moment, as my DSL land line already is! I don’t think ANYone from either AT&T Or Chronic actually dropped by. I did have to step out twice to walk the doggies and purchase groceries, but that’s it. NO sign of either company tech showing up. And it’s now after eight PM, with nary another email from Chronic, goddam fuckers. I KNOW why this is happening: I subscribed to their cheapest service for broadband, DSL is now old-school, following in the footsteps of dialup. So, such low-end customers get treated like second class citizens. But I WILL have my revenge: I will EXCORIATE them in a blog entry soon to appear, called “Chronic DOT Net”…with that angry letter I sent off to Isolde, among other things.
The pandemic, of course, just adds to the merry mix of demonic revelry, because I can’t just hop on down to a local library or coffeehouse for public wifi. I have TONS of excellent material to post on my WordPress site, my creative juices are exquisite and gushing like a geyser. And now, THIS shit has to happen! So if I suddenly seem to disappear off the face of the planet, you’ll know I lost both Internet and land line services.
Oh, yeah, this afternoon I had a run-in with someone I’d rather not have had. Some wiry old dude around sixty or so on an electric scooter paused by me and said, while looking down on the doggies:
“Where’s your daddy these days?”
Took me a moment before I realized he meant Deek, so I told him:
“I’m Deek’s friend who’s been taking care of them through the cold weather and rains. But we both decided the streets are too harsh for these little pups, they’ll die out here. So we struck a deal where I became the new owner in exchange for a wad of cash.” I then stopped speaking to let it sink in, then added: “I have a video record of out verbal agreement, here on my smartphone.”
“Oh, ha, ha, I see,” was all he said, then scooted away.
Where is THIS gonna lead to? I’m thinking. Nothing I hope, but I’m certainly on the alert these days. On a better note:
Building Manager Kevin warmed up to the brindlekin today, as we three proceeded down the stairs and into the front lobby. There was Kevin fussing with the key to enter, and once he did, the dogs started to bark. But not such a storm as in the early days they were here, which shows progress. I told him they’re getting used to seeing others appearing in the hallway or stairs, and they’re less noisy and acting friendlier. He then lowered himself to extend a hand to both pooches; they had by then quieted down, commenced to sniff his hand, shoes, and pant legs…then backed off to bark once more!
“They’ll get used to you in a few more meetups,” I assured him. In fact, their barks ceased after a minute, and all was quiet on the Western Front again. But sure enough, here came someone ELSE down the stairs and carrying Dieter’s hospital assigned wheelchair (IOW manual and cheaply made), so I rushed the dogs outta there before they had a chance to react. Before departing, I also told him to expect an AT&T tech repairman to show up, due to my suddenly dead land line, but I can’t hole myself up all day for someone who may or may not arrive. Now, back to a NOT better note, again:
On top of all this, there’s my hovel’s leaking radiator. Which commenced shortly after the pandemic restrictions came down. Kevin arranged to have a worker check it out, so I hanged outdoors for three hours, that they may get the job done without my presence…and hopefully they’d keep their mask on throughout the entire process. Turns out they could never get the time right (whoever they were: I think our main building worker, Juan, who was supposed to track down someone who really knows radiators, but couldn’t find him at home where he said he would be), so I wound up wasting four hours staying outdoors.
“Wasn’t this supposed to be fixed last year, Kevin?” I queried. He didn’t really answer that, but that was indeed the case. Looks like the so-called repair was half-assed, and it had to be done all over again. He suggested we try again in a week or so, but I wouldn’t hear of it, told him I don’t want anyone in my room because COVID-19. He obliged me, even though at that time a lot of folks didn’t think it was that serious (and I guess that included him), so kinda were sloppy with social distancing and such. But I wasn’t, I knew better, plus I’m 70 years old. As a consequence, the radiator continues to leak copiously, and I must empty the rubber-plastic dish basin I stash beneath the leaking bleeder valve, three times through the night. ‘Cause if I don’t, the leak will accumulate and begin dripping through the floor and into the lobby entranceway, right between the front gate and double doors, to cause a most impressive puddle right smack dab where residents and visitors and delivery people step in and out. And, yes, sometimes I forget, and the entranceway floor is like a pond, which must be dealt with immediately…but the manager’s remained mum so far, and it’s been months since the problem began.
I think the only reason I didn’t discover that the original leaking hadn’t really been resolved was because we had quite a lengthy run of mild nights since the original “repair.” Now, we’ve been going through an unusually long cold snap that began in mid-October, and is still going strong with no end in sight. Just my rotten luck, to have this extra little pest add to my life’s burden, just when I’ve become busier in my life than I can ever recall. And that corner of the room where the radiator spits is difficult to crouch down in, and remove the the water-laden basin (and in so doing must rapidly replace it temporarily with a SECOND container to catch the angry gremlin’s piss). Cramped between two cabinets as I am, with one heavy cabinet I have to slide to the right (along with the two storage bins, one atop the other) three or four times a night. Which puts me at risk of a second degree burn if I’m not very careful. I never told you about the radiator before, Tara, but now you know.
Why all this crap is happening to me at once is pretty obvious to THIS flustered pilgrim. I am about to make THE major breakthrough in spiritual growth ever, and probably for ANY human being ever, as well. So of COURSE the bodhisattvas assigned to watch over me are having a field day messing with my world. Until said time that all barriers are removed, all veils are lifted, and all homophobes are castrated, tarred and feathered and, finally, drawn and quartered in the village square! And that time, I surmise, is but seven days away:
The sixteenth of January, the anniversary of the day in 1985 that Randolph Louis Taylor attempted suicide beside the Vietnam Wall Memorial in D.C., at the point of a midnight special held in a not-so-steady hand thank God.
Re: Now they’re NOT eating again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: Jaunary 9, 2021 11:20 PM
AS long as the dogs are peppy and drinking water, they’re okay. But MOST mysterious that they’re BOTH exhibiting appetite problems at the same time. It could possibly be that they sense a major change in their little lives, in the form of the absence of Deek, even though he didn’t always treat them well. Dogs are like that. I suspect they’ll get over it and eat normally again.
That is QUITE possible, along with some residual trauma from living on the streets for such a prolonged cold snap and rainy days and nights. When I was walking the doggies earlier tonight, I ran into Carra (spelled with two Rs she said), that cordial young woman at Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Food shop. She was just stepping out, about to lock up for the day, when I came up to her and said the high value dog food didn’t work at all this time around. So we had a nice little chat, and before departing, she ran back inside to return with a couple of those pricey leather treats for the mutts, because I had just told her they’re now the only stuff they WILL eat. “I call these dogs high maintenance dates!” I quipped. Anyway, the place is a godsend, and I’m SO glad they’re right around the corner.
Such a bummer about Chronic. I’d be lost, utterly lost, without the net. And yes, you especially need it now, in the midst of your whirlwind of creativity. You can still compose offline and post later, of course. I try to remember my life pre-internet. How did I manage?? Those gibbering techno-demons are real and have malicious intent. They KNOW exactly when to strike.
THEY HAVEN’T GOTTEN BACK TO ME! So NOW what do I do? I’m gonna blast ’em a good one on their forum…add it to the thread I already started re. my dead land line. It will include my angry letter to [name withheld], whom I will call Isolde in my upcoming blog entry. In that piece, I call the company Chronic.net (short for “chronic headache”).
Oh, God, the leaking radiator. I’ll tell you a little secret: our furnace has been busted for a few years now. Any heat we have comes from the wood stove, which, though it puts out good warmth, means hauling, splitting and drying wood, carrying it inside, starting fires, tending to them, keeping them going. I often wear my down parka indoors. They’d call Adult Protective Services on us if they knew….but just remind myself of all the money we haven’t spent on propane. Thousand$ by now.
Oh for God’s sake. Glad you got SOMEthing out of it.
16th of January, eh? I like the sound of it. Will be alert on that day!!!!!
Seven days and counting. Now, here’s an update on another matter:
When I went to the Noe Valley grocery store where Les works, I hoped to finally get a copy of the Duboce Triangle Newsletter which was supposed to come out on Friday (yesterday), to see if they really HAD gone ahead and published my New Years sci-fi parody. As I waited in line to pay for a couple of boring items, I finally spotted a small number of the newsletters set in a vertical, clear plastic holder on the counter’s left end. Upon grabbing a copy, I saw it was dated some time in December! So I asked Les if the latest issue came out yet. He said no, that it’s probably due to the pandemic, they can’t find people to deliver them. I told him why not, it’s not like they’d have to get physically close to anyone, there are people walking all over the neighborhood as it is! He just shrugged his shoulders, but I don’t think that’s the case at all, because it MAKES NO SENSE!
My conclusion: I think a lot of people are fucking with me, ’cause they’re bodhisattvas about to foist a surprise party to end all surprise parties on me.
Subject: Doggies started to eat again! From: Zeke Krahlin To: MCN announcement list, MCN discussion list Date: January 10, 2021 11:08 AM
On 2021-01-10 12:57, Jane Karanina posted:
I am so happy for the love that these puppies have brought to you! Zeke- it’s a life so much better. Be well marilyn
Thank you Marilyn (or Jane). Just please keep in mind that a life so much better can NOT be achieved without first living a life so much worse. This is the story of Everyman and thus, of the entire human race. We are about to emerge (or blossom) into an incredible age of harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abounding, no more falsehoods or derisions, golden living dreams of visions, mystic crystal revelation and the mind’s true liberation…Aquarius! 2021 is IT.
I have ALWAYS been a happy spirit underneath it all…and my remarks that some consider harsh are never anything more than putting certain wicked or foolish people on the spot. Well, either that or I was making a wittily sarcastic joke which some people fail to grasp. You can save some of the people some of the time, but you can’t save ALL of people all of the time…or can you? Lilith only knows I try! Or IOW:
Many are called, but few are chosen…so step right up for your lederhosen.
PS: And that token Nazi troll on the discussion list has served me well, playing one of the bodhisattva’s major roles as Ultimate Enemy, and thus sharpening my skills to overcome what remaining negative influences still haunted my psyche. For in both standing up against his many challenges of hatred, threats and other abominable expressions (which I most certainly HAD to do) and in finding a path through it all that would eventually lead to the most compassionate resolution possible…I have gained a tremendous boon of an advantage. A boon that not only benefits yours truly, but can liberate countless others through my wonderful tales, essays, poems and letters. As for the several OTHER right-wing monkey scumbags who ganged up on me, often doing so by hiding behind the Nazi’s skirt: I also give these incorrigible punks my most grateful kudos. You know who you are (except perhaps Harry Dork, who strikes me as stupendously dimwitted, for which reason should stick to his gardening tips and nothing else).
Subject: My Pooches are Crack Addicts! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 11, 2021 8:11 PM
The dogs are pretty much back to eating regularly, thank Cthulhu. The best appetite enhancer I finally came up with, is to crumble some of those pricey leather treats into their dog food. Jeffrey’s Natural Pet Foods store has saved the day! In fact, Wiley is so nuts about those treats, she regularly jumps off the cot and scampers about my room, sniffing for more. And if I ignore her long enough, she’ll start barking insistently, as if to say: “C’mon Zeke, I know you’ve got ’em stashed SOMEwhere!” Right now, they’re BOTH scouting around, pushing up the newspaper sheets I have all over the floor, with their schnozzolas, hoping to find some bits of leather tasties. They’re like crack addicts!
Re: OMG this just happened! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 11, 2021 8:18 PM
Read the blurb that goes with it (click on video, then click on “Youtube”):
Subject: Pups…eating. From: Zeke Krahlin To: Corrine DeMaars Date: January 12, 2021 11:45 AM
Wanted to let you know I’ve had dogs my entire life. This I know about. Dogs need at least one daily walk…an hour would be great. Exercise is monumental in their attitude. Nutrition like you’re worried about is absolutely important.
If the dogs aren’t eating get a cheap bag of hot dogs. Rinse the hot dogs. Cut one into 6 strips lengthwise. Then cut into tiny tiny squares. Dogs don’t know portions so tiny is fine. (freeze the rest because you don’t want them to have much…very fatty.) These are rare treats. So put a tiny bit on their kibble. They will eat. Small dogs like your 2 will only eat generally 2 times a day 1/4 cup each time. Treats are limited.
You probably already know this. They’re sad right now so just walk em and cuddle em. Bring the hot dogs when you walk em. When they do something good…a treat. If they don’t want to do something…encourage them away from whatever with a treat.
Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.
Any dog questions and I’m your gal! This I know.
No, they’re not sad at all…even during the period they would hardly eat a thing. Joyful and loving through the whole ordeal. But I already indicated that in my recent tales. They get LOTS of cuddling and kind words all day long…including group hugs about ten times a day!
Thanks for your tips, though. Yes, they normally eat just twice a day, and they’re back to that. And they have a great appestat, in that once they’ve had enough, they STOP all on their own. They are definitely NOT gluttonous in the least.
I can NOT take them to a park or other grassy place for lots of exercise, at this time. It is just too risky, because no rabies tag on either, and I can’t afford to get them their shots all over again…at least, not at this time. Any possible conflict with another dog owner would ruin me, and them. I need some kind person’s use of a fenced in backyard, but I don’t know anyone who could offer me that.
Thinking of you and how great you’re doing! Good job.
Five totally boring videos that only a dog lover would enjoy. Taco is wearing one of the two reversible plaid jackets kindly donated by one of my supporters. That blue, puffy jacket on Wiley is also from a fan…either of myself or of Canis familiaris (maybe both); I’m not really sure because it’s a mystery who delivered it. Notice it fits okay and looks great on her, but definitely the next size up would be better. There are four snaps that secure the garment, but I can only join the back two, because size issue. And it won’t fit Taco at all, due to his chunky brisket and shoulders: he’s a hunk-a dachshund/terrier bundle of doggie love! I wanted to show how cute they look when they poop, but I fear camera shyness on their part, because they didn’t go number one at all!
Oh, and if you’re concerned about retaliation from my houseless friend Deek or his pals, please know that I ALWAYS keep a small canister of pepper spray in a pocket, and ALWAYS bring my smartphone with me, because it has that video of our verbal contract that I now own the pups in exchange for $300. Which I’ll gladly show to anyone who approaches with the question: “Did you steal Deek’s dogs?” To see for yourself, you may view the scenario of that transaction by clicking here.
While you’re at it, check out the cute sweaters some gracious donor sent me in late December:
URGENT! TRULY URGENT! The dogs won’t eat ANYthing! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM
SOMETHING URGENT has come up: THE DOGS REFUSE TO EAT ANYTHING, AT ALL, INCLUDING ROTISSERIE CHICKEN!
They continue to refuse the kibble and/or canned gravy-style Pedigree dog food (as well as these chicken-chew treats), so this makes the third day in a row I’ve blown twenty dollars on rotisserie fowl. At first, I pulled the white meat off the bone in small pieces, and mixed a considerable amount with some other canned food that Deek left me: “Diamond Naturals Chicken Dinner”…not chunky at all, just firmly packed, gray-brown mush. No success in THAT department; the mashed-in chicken pieces failed to entice!
So I then prepared a bowl each of nothing BUT roasted bird, just as I’ve done yesterday and the day before…and which they went nuts over. To my disappointment and worry, they refused to touch that, either! I have no idea what to do now, and this is becoming a financial disaster. And to make things worse, Deek showed up right in the middle of my preparing their meal. I hollered at him through the window, where he stood across Market Street, shopping cart in hand:
“Wait ten minutes, I’m feeding them!”
But he didn’t say okay, and said it will only take a minute, and he’ll wait for me by the bus stop. So I speedily finished mixing the mush with the white meat, set down the two bowls and exited. I really did NOT want to leave the brindlekin alone during feeding, as they might fight over the chicken, or Wiley would gobble up all of Taco’s portion. But I stepped out anyway and, lo and behold, there was a humongous Bluetooth speaker hogging up more than half of Deek’s shopping cart and sticking out almost a foot above the top…behind which stood the Bodhisattva of Disruption and Chaos Himself.
“I’m really hurtin’ Zeke, could you PLEASE give me a little more money to feed myself?” he begged, just like any other meth freak would, who just blew a HUGE wad of cash the day before, on something frivolous…like a stupid electronic device that he’d sell for another Tina fix in a day or two from now. (I never believed he lost any of his devices, or they were stolen, as he’d always claim. In fact, I’m both surprised and delighted that he’s held onto the dogs long enough for me to take them in permanently.)
Of course I severely reprimanded him for wasting the $300 I just gave him yesterday, instead of spending at least SOME of it on the doggies, in order to help me with their expenses. Then I paused to examine the small sticker on the speaker’s top edge:
“A hundred ninety-nine dollars, eh?”
“No, I got it for less,” he retorted. I was about to explode in fumes of anger, but tamped it down.
“It doesn’t MATTER what you spent, Deek!” I reprimanded. “You are responsible for using that money for more important things, like FEEDING yourself. It’s OUTRAGEOUS you’ve come back so soon after I just gave you a WHOPPING three hundred bucks!”
Then I explained how both Wiley & Taco have completely lost their appetite, and I just spent $60 on roasted chicken for them, three days in a row. And that MY share of the stimulus is supposed to go to THEM, not him!”
“Oh, they’ll be alright,” he blithely brushed it off. “PLEASE, I need some cash to eat. I’m very hungry now, Zeke.”
So I caved in a little, “How much do you want?”
He hesitated to answer, so I blurted: “Ten dollars?’
Deek looked shocked, as if I had the nerve to offer him such a pittance. “I was thinking more like sixty dollars.” He had the gall to add: “You have the money.”
Upon his declarng that specific sum, I parried: “Oh, you’re asking for an advance on this Saturday’s allowance. Well, I don’t know if I have that kinda money upstairs, and I’ll have to march over to the bank to withdraw it, but I’m right in the middle of dealing with your dog’s eating problems, which have me worried like hell!”
“I’ll never ask you again, Zeke, I promise!” he swore. “Really, I won’t ever ask you for any more money, never again!”
“Well I don’t believe you, Deek, but we’ll see, now won’t we?” I riposted. “You’re squeezing money out of me that I need for the dogs, now that they are in my charge. You can NOT do this ever again, Deek!”
“I promise I won’t, ever again!” he perpetuated what I know is a blatant lie. But after this round of wallet-sucking ploys, I really WON’T be able to cough up any more moolah. So be it; I am definitely more than capable of saying NO and walking away. I know, because I’ve done it before to Deek, at least several times in the past two years.
So I told him hold on, I’ll see if I have that amount, I’ll be right back. Knowing full well of course, that I did NOT have three Jacksons on hand, but FOUR one-hundred-dollar smackaroonies. “I see where this is going,” I thought in frustration as I scurried back up to my hovel, to discover that neither Taco nor Wiley had taken even a single nosh of their white-meat-studded bowl of mush, before grabbing a Bennie and exiting the building once more.
Before handing the bill to him, I admonished: “You know when I hollered back at you to wait ten minutes, ’cause I’m feeding the dogs? You could’ve easily said okay and waited. If I don’t watch Wiley, she’ll scarf up Taco’s meal too. Now I have to go back upstairs and feed one of the dogs all over again.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear you say that,” he replied. But I know better…he DID hear me say that, because he yelled in reply to my plea for him to wait: “This’ll just take a minute!”
He also mentioned how he’s doing everything to better himself (ha, as if a $199 Bluetooth speaker is a “help”). I replied that yeah, you got a tent now (which he told me yesterday, for forty dollars, and I pointed out tents are being handed out for free to the homeless, he doesn’t need to spend any money on that.) His reply?
“My tent was stolen this morning.” Of course…and his speaker will be “stolen” too, soon enough. So I declared once again:
“You can get another one, Deek. They’re handing them out for free, just ask Boulevard Joe, he’ll tell you where to get one.” Then I pointed out the Benjamin now in his hand:
“I didn’t have sixty dollars, just this hundred dollar bill, so you get NO more money for the rest of the month, I can’t AFFORD to do this any more, now that Taco & Wiley are in my care, and you’re no longer covering ANY of their expenses yourself.”
It was time for him to depart, and for me to return hovel and deal with the present doggie crisis. But before we parted ways, he said, “Thank you, I love you Zeke!” and we exchanged fist bumps. But then I summoned him to hold on, with a tug at his sleeve…so he stopped and turned to face me. I spoke these final words for this, our latest rendezvous:
“No matter what you do or don’t do, God will protect you, and turn your life around in an amazing direction. Deek. I just can’t be the one to provide you with any more cash…short of a miracle that is. Which COULD happen, but not today.”
He chose not to reply with so much as even a “thanks” or “goodbye;” instead he flashed me a broad smile, then turned away to push his shopping cart to whatever his next destiny will be. But there is an interesting topic he ALSO brought up amid our negotiations, which is this:
“There are riots,” he declared, “and revolutions going on in Washington…they wanna assassinate the president.”
“Well, they SHOULD assassinate him,” I blurted out, then mused aloud: “I’m so wrapped up in my writing and tending to your doggies, I haven’t been paying attention to the news, not ANY news, for at least two weeks now. But I’m gonna check it out later today.”
What I most appreciate (with a bit of hindsight) is that Deek learned of this by listening to the radio! A milestone I’d say, as he’s beginning to stay informed about current events now and then, instead of playing rap music 24/7. However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted. For now that I’ve caught up with the news, the issue appears to be all about pro-Trump butt lickers storming the capitol, CLAIMING that the left threatens their Commander-in-Cheat with death threats. Which clearly is NOT the case. So much like the dim-bulb, christo-fascist right wingers to scapegoat the noble opposition by blaming them for their OWN sins!
Maybe I should just not worry, and stop offering them food till they’re SO hungry they’ll eat anything? Neither pup looks the least bit distressed, sad or in any other negative mood. In fact, they’re relaxing here on the bedding, in what appears to be appreciative repose, and respite from the cold. (Jeez, we’ve had so many chilly days and nights for WEEKS now, and still not a break in sight!) They remain cheerful and sweet as ever. I’ve stashed the remaining half of the chicken in the fridge, along with the mound of scraps I placed in their bowls, which they refused to touched, now sealed in a Ziploc freezer bag.
But I refuse to end this report without analyzing the latest scenario from the perspective of bodhisattva intrigue:
This is the latest scene of Act #whatever, that Deek is playing out for my benefit. Because he’s CREATING a wonderful story that will gain me fame and vast wealth, by typing it out and sharing it with the world via WordPress, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter. And this is just the latest twist in the plot. Oh what drama! The doggies now refuse to eat, and meth-head Deek is preying on my meager finances! Woo-hoo!
I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM
Okay, I just purchased the doggies from Deek (video link towards the end of this email). As I was waiting for the police to get here, more than a half hour creeped by with him screaming “I want my dogs! I want my dogs!” from across Market Street. He saw me once or twice from the window, which didn’t help any. I had called 911 back, to arrange they call to my window, or make a little siren noise to alert me…because my landline phone has been dead since yesterday, and I can only use my smartphone to make 911 calls. How ironic, that I was incapacitated in that way, just in a moment of emergency, considering the VERY rare moments I even use my phone!
Dieter had stepped inside, with my assistance because pushing a wheelchair. I told him about the terrible turn of events with Deek. So warned him to play things dumb should he run into him. And that, since the gendarmes are taking SO long to show up, maybe he could be my bodyguard…which I’ll also need anyway, while walking the pooches. He cracked up as he slowly hobbled up the stairs, with another resident carrying the wheelchair up to his fourth-floor SRO. And said: “Oh, sorry, I’m not good at that these days!”
A few minutes later (and I still heard his painfully-slogging ascent to the second floor) I called 911 back, and asked if I could return to my hovel to tend to the doggies. (I had initially called 911 to explain how my emergency call was about Deek’s dogs, how he’s abusing them but now wants them back, which I do NOT have the heart to do, for obvious reasons. I had also explained that I was helping take care of them through the cold and rainy weather, and everything seemed hunky-dory between us. But he’s a meth freak, thus unpredictable, and today is a whopper, and I’m afraid he may be violent towards me, and wind up killing the dogs through severe neglect and abuse!)
They understood my land line is down, and my smartphone has no cell service, so agreed to either call up to my window, or turn on the siren for a few seconds, once they arrive. The four times I called 911, they were all quite nice and professional…except one who just shunted me over to the police department, where no one answered the phone. I guess because of all the political brouhaha now going on with the right-wing riots in D.C….activists and marches, etc. Adding to the difficulty with keeping a line open to 911 is they couldn’t use my now-dead land line number, nor could call me back via my non-cell-service smartphone!
So I then climbed back up the stairs, where the manager Kevin was speaking with Dieter. I interrupted to tell Dieter the cops were finally on their way. Then I looked towards the manager, and said should I tell Kevin?
“Not necessary,” he replied, “I already told him.”
Well, Kevin was totally nonplussed when I explained how I’ve been helping Deek with the doggies through the cold weather and rains, but I’ve never seen him act so crazy as he is today. That I don’t want to return the pups to him, because he’s an animal abuser, and they’ll probably die. And they’re such sweet pups, I added.
“They aren’t to me!” quipped Kevin, but I just waved it away by telling him that was because he was thump-thumping a trash bin down the stairs when we stepped out and into the hallway…that they’re actually very quiet! I also mentioned I’ll probably be moving soon in two or three months, because I have a very lucrative publishing contract in the works. Which, BTW, is called “Brindlekin Tales” and is all about my adventures with Deek and the doggies. (I know, Tara, I’m really hedging my bets to a dangerous extent here, but what the hey, I believe in my destiny!)
I also told him to feel free to call 911 over Deek, whenever you deem it necessary, but I think he has enough sense to stay off this side of the street…and I’ll do my best to keep him at bay.
Upon returning hovel (finally! I was starving ’cause Deek’s drama disrupted everything, so I hadn’t had even breakfast yet and it was well after three o’clock) I heard My Nutty Bodhisattva screeching from the other side of reality:
“C’mon down, let’s strike a deal!”
Turned out he was willing to give up the dogs for $300. Interesting, I thought, that he didn’t say four hundred, per his original price. Though since I coughed up an extra hundred for him this morning, I guess he was respecting that as part of the four hundred. (A hint, mind you, that this is all an act put on by a bodhisattva par excellence…as it strikes me that a REAL tweaker would insist on the original four hundred!)
Anyway, I told him I need a witness, and it has to be Boulevard Joe. Well, he kicked up a stink and refused. So I said how about a video recording our agreement? He said no to that, too, so I said well then, you’re not gonna get the money, and started to walk away. But he finally caved in…so I returned hovel where the sweet little brindlekin were happily minding their own business, relaxing on my bed as usual. What patient canine souls! They of course greeted me with a quizzical stare that said: “What on earth is going on, Zeke?” I pet them both and told them to be patient awhile longer, I’ll be back really soon.
The best I could get regarding a solid contract, is this video which I uploaded only moments ago:
And here is a brief prequel I shot on the sly, taken just moments before he agreed to be recorded, and eleven minutes before the contract was made firm:
Talk about a drama queen…or speaking from the bodhisattva trickster perspective, a “melodrama” queen! He looks quite the wreck, BTW. But knowing this is just one of his finest Jewish Homeless Princess scenarios he’s ever performed here in the Castro (and maybe anywhere else), I am not particularly stressed out over any further nonsense from his corner.
Of course, after the deal was done, he ranted on about how I’m probably a pervert letting the dogs lick me all over my body, and that he’s heard people say all sorts of bad things about me, and how he has a lot of his buddies watching me. I retorted that I have enemies who badmouth me all the time, and I’m sorry he’s chosen to stand on the wrong side of Castro history, and that he wouldn’t believe how many of MY comrades are watching HIM! I was not the least perturbed by his ugly accusations, because I knew it was yet another challenge from My Cajun Bodhisattva, of how well or not I could handle my temper. Indeed, I handled it very well, wouldn’t you say?
Upon returning to my room, I dialed 911 once more, to cancel my emergency, explaining to them we had struck a deal with a three-hundred dollar trade, and I have it all on video, and that should he ever harass and threaten me again, I’ll sic the cops after him. Oh, yeah, I DID pull my “I-have-your-social-security-number-and-with-that-could-really-mess-up-your-life” card, as well as threaten to report him as a deadbeat dad to Louisiana authorities, and I know where to find him. He simply shrugged his shoulders, said he’s been through worse.
PS: I really needed that $300 to help the doggies out, especially with their surprise appetite loss. Why is this happening all at once? Deek’s insanity, dogs stopped eating, total wipeout of my stimulus money in less than 24 hours (plus an extra $100 from my slim Social Security budget), and dead land line when I need to call 911? Methinks the bodhisattva forces are working overtime! My faith remains strong, puppy love is in my heart, always.
Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Tara Roosevelt To: Zeke Krahlin Date: January 7, 2021 7:51 PM
However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted.
Yep, right-wing radio and TV is going wild with the disinfo. The mobs were”Antifa.” They were “hired by Democrats.” It was all “staged.” The bit about assassinating the president is rich; they’re carrying Trump flags, Confederate flags, one of them was photographed wearing a an Auschwitz t-shirt. The irony is that they were there trying to halt the electoral college certification; they did stop it, but only for a few hours. When Congress resumed, which they did, several Repukes who were going to vote to hold things up had suddenly changed their minds. So the effect was that the certification happened much more smoothly and expeditiously than it would have if not for the riots. Meanwhile, Trump and Pence are now mortal enemies. Trump goes out with a bang AND a whimper.
Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 8:43 PM
Oh, Jesus. Interesting to actually lay eyes on him.
Not his best moment, by a long shot.
He looks to be in fairly dire shape. Not that I have much basis for comparison. But he seems shaky, unstable. How I hope he just lets you keep the doggies in peace.
He usually looks MUCH better than he does today. Oh, he’ll let me keep the doggies in peace…after all I have my bodyguards who work the Koheba Smoke Shop to keep him off my block. The manager of my building also knows about it now, and he may have some neighborhood clout. And, once my New Year’s Parody gets distributed tomorrow in the Duboce Triangle News, a lot more locals will check out my Brindlekin Tales, and learn about my situation with Deek and the doggies. Because in the introduction to my piece, is included a link to the Brindlekin section of my WordPress blog! Also, I’ve uploaded those two videos to Youtube, as well as shared ’em on Facebook and Twitter. One or both just MAY go viral!
I just uploaded my latest Brindlekin chapter (18) which is called “The Doggies are Now Mine!” And it’s all about today’s disgusting fiasco, and includes those two videos towards the bottom of that tale.
Are they eating yet???????
Hardly. Wiley accepted a small serving of chicken, but Taco still turns down everything. Not sure if he’s even drinking water, but I’m watching. Wiley has been drinking. Oh, and Taco threw up, but it looked pretty harmless, just clear fluid and two tiny bits of chicken. He also had diarrhea when he pooped this afternoon. Yet, they remain cheerful and active as ever, play-fighting and being affection. They continue to look sparkly, healthy and joyful. I give them plenty of hugs and scritches, and they don’t act especially needy to receive them…just the usual loving rapport. It may very well be lack of exercise killing their appetite, which is known to happen in dogs. So I really have no choice but to get them to a safe area tomorrow, where they can run about to the point of happy exhaustion. Then we’ll see if their appetite (hopefull) picks up. But this may also be their estrangement from Deek, even though they don’t seem the least bit worried or sad. Dogs get very attached to their owners, even the abusive ones.
GOOD NEWS: My GoFundMe first withdrawal just arrived in the sum of $387.20. I will open a second account now, and transfer that entire amount to it, minus the $60 spent on three roast chicken orders, because I am reimbursing myself for a doggie expense. My GFM amount is only $400, so only $13 left to spend, beyond what I’ve aleady withdrawn. Hopefully, once the Duboce Triangle News publishes my tale with the link to my Brindlekin Tales page, many locals will check it out, and they’ll see my GoFundme appeal right there on top! And more donations will come rolling in.
CONCLUSION: This is all an amazing adventure, which Deek has assisted in creating in a MAJOR way. He is no threat, Tara…he’s one of my brilliant guardians who gladly makes personal sacrifices in order to turn me into a hero. And I believe there are many other bodhisattvas here in the Castro, who know all about me, and ready to catapult me to fame. If I’m deluded, this is the most incredible delusion one could ever have! Sleep well, my most kind and intelligent ally…I truly wish that for you!