The Final Chapter (part 23)

October 14, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17w]

Subject: Disappointing, But Okay
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 10, 2021 11:56 AM

Purchased coffee, then strolled up Noe Street where the artists were setting up their wares. Only several early birds were present, including Miriam. I sat on the narrow concrete ledge by the community garden, while she and two others chatted about this and that, from fifteen feet away. Lovely morning and all that, but I felt disconnected because they barely said hello, as if I were intruding. Not that they ignored me totally, they did afford me a bit of conversation…but it was clear they preferred to enjoy their usual get together, of which I’m not a part.

But I don’t blame them, that’s alright by me, as they have their own long-term associates who enjoy shooting the bull upon arriving…sipping coffee and noshing on fast-food snacks. A party crasher I am not, so just enjoyed sitting quietly nearby, watching and listening, but not really eavesdropping, just enjoying the ambience.

After ten minutes or so, I got up and walked further down Noe Street, sat on a concrete stump across Morey’s shop for awhile, which wouldn’t open for another hour. Then returned to the street artist scene, which had grown by two or three more sellers in that short time. Walked by Miriam and her two friends, wished them good sales, said I’ll be back later, and proceeded on hovel.

Now, just a moment after typing the previous paragraph, Deek dropped by to collect his allowance, along with a sandwich bag that he requested. The pups were with him, but not his shopping cart which, I figured, was somewhere nearby…up the block, across the street, or wherever. I handed him three Jacksons, one of which he observed was slightly torn on one edge, maybe a quarter of an inch. It was a clean tear that I had not noticed. I offered to run back upstairs and repair it with tape. He said never mind, that’s okay. Then off they went, towards Castro Street. I decided to just stand there near the corner, until they were far enough from the front gate in the other direction, so the pups would not be disappointed. IOW, I didn’t want to reenter my building while they were still close by.

Now I’ve broken my fast with a banana smoothie, and am ready to step out again, to check out all the artwork along Noe Street, and see if anything else ensues. Oh, one more thing:

Miriam had exclaimed how filthy and trashed out Castro Street was, on her way to pick up a few items at Walgreens…human feces and garbage everywhere. I said I rarely visit that street any more, it’s been years. But I’ll check it out tomorrow morning, with my camera. She said they clean everything up pretty early, before most people step out for the day. I’m guessing she means before eight AM. I’ll find out tomorrow.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: My 2nd Rendezvous w/Artists Today: Much Better
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson <>Add contact
Date: October 10, 2021 1:11 PM

Took a bunch of shots, talked with some of the creators…lovely day, and their work is impressive. So much so, they’ve turned that block of Noe Street into a sacred ground for the day. I’ll step out one more time today, and hand out my Brindlekin cards…of which I have but 16 remaining! Meanwhile, I have to prepare all these photos for my next blog entry. Attached is one, with artists sketching a live model. The woman with her back turned to the camera, in an orange T-shirt, is Miriam.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: As I returned hovel after taking those pics of the Noe Street artists and their works, I came upon Samuel and his chihuahuas, who had just stepped outside. So I approached him, thanked him profusely for his patience with my dogs, asked if his own pups were okay with the impromptu meeting. He said it’s just fine, they weren’t upset in the least…and it was a good idea of mine to have treats at the ready. The day’s off to a great start, good physician! So here’s my page with 25 scenes from today’s art fair.

Subject: Well, I’m disappointed!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 10, 2021 4:55 PM

Miriam just brushed me off, several times as I walked by and said hello, and admired some of her paintings. Even when she was not particularly busy. She struck me as the gregarious type who’d introduce me to others…but no, she did not, even though she did the first time around (last week). I wasn’t intrusive in any way, but picked off-moments when she wasn’t preoccupied with potential buyers. Oh, well. I’m now wondering if Arwyn saw her later on, after he passed by and they greeted each other, and spoke badly of me.

Anyway, I had some friendly talks with other artists, so it was, overall, a good day. But this “Noe Art Mart” only started earlier this year, and will end on the last Sunday of this month, which is Halloween. Or maybe their last day will be next week, to avoid the holiday mischief. This weekly event was founded during the pandemic, and hosts LGBT artists. According to one vendor, Michael, the City seems to like the way it went first time around, thus is likely to continue the program. I sure hope so!

I also had a nice conversation with Jesse, whose table displayed original tarot cards, and sparkling, small paintings of a metaphysical nature. I brought up Carl Jung’s teachings, and those of his disciple, Joseph Campbell. She really liked that, for it turned out she is also an avid admirer of those two great thinkers. I gave my Brindlekin card to her, as I did two other artists.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Well, I’m disappointed!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 10, 2021 6:40 PM

> Well, to hell with Miriam. WTF is wrong with people?? Quite possible Arwyn did some Iago-type whispering in her ear. Too bad she’s susceptible.

Not wise to jump to conclusions, though. It is also possible she actually READ “Free Me From This Bond” (or parts therein) and was offended over my portrayal of him. Or maybe she has a bee in her bonnet that has nothing to do with Arwyn, such as my living on disability all these years, or some other unconventional aspect of yours truly, which ARE brought up in many of my tales, not just FMFTB. Though I DO suspect it’s probably his backstabbing me. That seems more likely than any other conjecture. A final thought:

Taking the bodhisattva spin, she’s just giving me a bit of a hard time. Or maybe Arwyn is doing it THROUGH her. I’ll just let it slide, like water off a duck’s back. Only one or two more times to go, anyway, before the Art Mart project ends.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Terror at the Front Gate!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 10, 2021 12:05 AM

Maybe “terror’s” an exaggeration, perhaps call it “disruption.” At any rate, Deek showed up around 10 PM, to leave the pups with me. As I exited the building and came up to him he said, “You just let everyone in the city inside,” and pointed beyond me. Turned out this tall, muscular black homeless dude had blocked the gate from closing by plunking a huge speaker (3 feet high and two feed wide) that kept it wide open. He was garbed in a long, brown coat, and blocked the entryway while boogying up a storm. Another vagrant was also there beside him, though standing still.

I don’t know where they came from, as no one was around when I stepped out, then suddenly there they were. Deek told me to bring his stash of dog food back upstairs. It was heavy, and the gate was still obstructed, so I told him I’ll take the food first, hold onto the pups for a minute. I knew I had to deal with the assholes, and I didn’t want the pooches with me. Glad to see his friend had departed, I came up to him and grabbed onto the edge of the open gate, whereby he stepped away. He didn’t remove the speaker, so I just stood there and, glaring directly at the goof, said:

“This gate needs to be closed, so please move your boombox.”

To my surprise, he gave me no grief, and followed through. So I deposited the three bags of dog food in my hovel, and returned outside to get the dogs. The transient was still close to the gate and dancing like mad, while Flaco & Lucky barked up a storm. Suddenly, the dude hollered, “the revolution is coming!” as he kicked the shit out of the gate. For some reason, our gate is often kicked by vagrants. I guess because it’s made of a tough metal grill that invites such actions by wandering idiots.

Instead of moving back, he remained in that spot and antagonized the pups with wild gestures and screeching sounds. But once I brought them closer to the gate (and him) he backed off…because you just never know, the pups are fearless and put up a good show, and they just might take a few chunks out of his calves. Or leap up and tear into his throat. I opened the gate, and they immediately grew quiet upon entry. During this annoying encounter, Deek was hollering at the dogs from twenty feet away, ordering them to quiet down. Which didn’t help matters much, as it made my calming them down that more difficult.

After settling them in, I was curious what kind of dog food he gave me, in those three plastic grocery bags. It was the food I gave him: 12 cans and three gallon-size Ziploc bags stuffed with kibble! So this means when I asked him yesterday if he needs more dog food and he said yes, he really didn’t. So I’ll only return five cans and two bags of kibble. One of the packages of kibble was wide open, instead of resealed to keep it fresh. This really ticks me off because I’ve told him numerous times, to keep the kibble sealed in their bags, as you don’t want the food to spoil. So for now on I’m gonna check his cart for dog food, to see if he really DOES need a fresh supply, and make sure that bag is sealed.

Stupid drama! But at least the brindlekin are safe with me for the night. Maybe longer.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Terror at the Front Gate!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 11, 2021 2:13 PM

> I happen to know that dachshunds are extremely pound-for-pound ferocious when they need to be! I knew a guy here who had four of them, and some of his friends were scared to visit because the doxies would “pack up” and get VERY protective!

Ha ha, I’d loved to see that up close! They are fearless. For example: Dachshund fends off bear to protect owner and her son.

Flaco & Lucky put on an awesome show of ferocity, when they feel the need to do just that. They bark like rabid wolverines (and Lucky’s bark is of a dog 20 pounds heavier: deep and LOUD, it would scare any intruder away), snarl and snap at each other at whiplash speed to demonstrate their viciousness, as a warning to others: “do you really want US two demons to rip you a new ass?” I’d love to get it on video, but one can’t just whip out his smartphone, set it to video, then start shooting, in the middle of a potential fracas.

I imagine they’ve developed this strategy of putting on a vicious front, due to living on the streets and encountering so many fuck-ups each and every day. Most people crack up when they see this, for it really is quite funny, and they really wouldn’t harm a flea. Lucky can, however, place such a firm grip with those little jaws on your shoe or pant cuff, you’d fall flat on your face were you already in motion, or not be able to take another step. It’s like dragging a 25-pound weight on your foot. I know, because he does it all the time when I take him for a walk, usually on our way back when he gets really playful. I don’t discourage him, I just play along:

“Oh ya got me now, tough guy!”

And I’ll slowly drag the trapped foot forward with much force, one exhausting step after another, until we finally get across the street, or half a block or so further. He’ll stop after awhile, to then play-attack Flaco. They get themselves wound up in their leashes really fast, doing that…so I have to unravel them quickly, if I ever expect to get back hovel in a reasonable amount of time.

> I love the image of the big strapping crazy vagrant backing off while heroic little Flaco and Lucky give him what-for!

Me, too…it puts the fear of the dachshund in them. But don’t forget: they’re also part terrier, which breed also makes s great guard dog. Pretty much a perfect mix in their case!

> So sorry you have to endure such crap.

It’s really shitty, because it happens so often. There are more than a few street bums who like to fuck with people’s little doggies. Remember that skateboarding fool in blackface who harassed my pups? Disgusting. These are sick people. You know they’d NEVER consider taunting a German shepherd, Pitbull or Rottweiler! I hate bullies, they’re the bane of existence. Testosterone meat heads. Meanwhile:

Flaco was not the least big hungry this morning, turns out she had stomach issues. She puked a few times today, nothing serious, she didn’t seem at all out of sorts, emotionally. But she wouldn’t even touch her treats! I had laid out triple-sheets of newspaper all over the floor, to make cleanup easy. I think it’s almost all over, as she’s stepped out of the box a few times to sit where she could regurgitate cleanly…but nothing happened each time, and she just returned to the box. When sitting there, she’ll look up at me to let me know she might puke…and I crouch down to her level, pet her generously and say what a good doggy she is.

Earlier, she’d relax on the bed, then jump down when it was time to vomit again…but she finally decided to remain on the floor, by resting in the box. She also knows now to seek out newspaper whenever she feels the gastric urge. I don’t even need to be home, and my floor would still be untouched. But why would I ever dream of leaving her alone through this little ordeal, or any other? These pooches are impressively fastidious! Even if there’s just a single sheet of newspaper nearby, they’ll immediately go for that, rather than sit directly on the sidewalk, if Deek allows them. But he often doesn’t notice, and their leashes aren’t long enough to reach the paper on their own. They don’t even bark or grow restless or mess with anything when I leave them alone in my room! They remain totally calm, and delighted to see me upon my return!

So two hours ago, Flaco suddenly started pacing the floor, then sat down and looked up at me. Her signal that she had to go poop. Which caught me off guard, because I only took them for their last walk less than an hour before. But she’s been puking, so obviously her constitution is out of sorts today. So I hurriedly got them outside, but as we rushed down the stairs, she puked a bit on a step. Not much, was mostly water, and not stinky in the least. But I couldn’t just bring them back hovel to clean it up right away, so continued on outside, where both did their thing in less than ten minutes. Upon returning, I observed that the discharge was barely visible. I returned to that step with some damp paper towels and cleaned it all up in a jiff. No muss, no fuss, no stain…whew! The last thing I need is to see the building manager standing on the stairs, pointing at the mess and saying with a frown, “Did one of your dogs do this?” Then my having to explain I couldn’t clean it up immediately, because Flaco needed to poop really bad, so I just had to put that on hold until my return. What choice did I have?

So here she is right now, still not hungry, just patiently waiting to recover from a sour stomach. I hope this will all be over by this evening, so she can enjoy her dinner.

Click here for a larger view.

Lucky’s fine, no stomach issues today, and seems rather blasé about his sister’s irregularity.

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Flaco Still Not Eating
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 11, 2021 8:18 PM

Though she appears and behaves otherwise fine and in good spirits…she certainly LOOKS healthy. She’s stopped vomiting, and had a touch of diarrhea on our afternoon walk. So I think whatever’s been upsetting her stomach has been fully purged. She simply chooses to take it easy, just resting on my cozy, buried beneath the comforters. I prepared them dinner a short while ago…she ate nothing, and Lucky only finished half. I hate to tell Deek this, nor do I think it will do any good anyway, but:

The stress on these little doggies of living on the streets can easily cause digestive issues. Not getting regular sleep hours, confronting crazy vagrants so often, the cold night, and so on. They are still with me, so perhaps Deek won’t show up until tomorrow. I hope so, because I really don’t want Flaco back out there until she regains her appetite.

Jeez, can you believe this shit? Just when I completed the paragraph above, Deek dropped by to pick up the pups. But I stepped out by myself, leaving them upstairs, and suggested I keep Flaco overnight. I explained to her about her upset stomach, that she’s over it, but still not hungry. Anyway, he went off on an ugly rant about how the pesticides are poisoning them, and neither dog has had stomach issues with him. I told him that’s not true, he’s told me TWICE they have. Then he said he hopes I’m not doing anything weird with them, as Flaco’s nipples were swollen when he brought them over, but now they’ve shrunk. I told him that’s false pregnancy, she’s had it before some months back. He said other shitty things to me, so I finally told him to get out of my face, your behavior is disgusting, after all the good things I do for him and the pups.

“Well, that’s the only thing I could think of,” he retorted (referring to the pesticides).

I told him no, that’s NOT the only thing he can think of, that’s just what the devil put in your head. Dogs often have stomach issues, especially the little ones, for all kinds of reasons.

Then I told him someone’s gonna smack him to the ground, he has it coming, so you’d better stop fuckin’ with me, Deek.

Around eight months back when he was talking about making Flaco pregnant I said, well if she pops ’em out in my place, I’ll just flush ’em down the toilet. He thought that was horrible, I’m not a dog lover, blah blah blah. Well, he brought it up again tonight, so I tried to tell him poor people do that all the time. But I had to fight him down to shut up and hear me out. So I explain poor people can’t afford to fix their dog, so if they have puppies, they just drown ’em, because they can’t afford THEM either.

“No! Not here in America, no one does that!” he exclaimed.

“Oh yes they do, it happens all the time, Deek,” I countered. “Especially where you come from, the Deep South.”

He backed off then, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’ll bring the dogs down. And wish you all a lovely night, and may god grant you many blessings.”

Now, he’s sitting out front almost below my window, quietly, thank god…hugging and kissing the pooches. I just wish he would camp out elsewhere. What a fuckin’ pain in the ass.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Flaco Still Not Eating
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 12, 2021 8:56 PM

> Ugh. Awful. If it’s as cold and windy there as it is here, that’s not good.

No, tonight is mildly cool, no blustery winds. But the winter and rains are coming up, and I’m afraid the pups won’t survive beyond January, thanks to Deek’s ignorance. He hardly ever gives me a chance to hold any conversation with him. He always has some excuse to rush off, after he delivers or retrieves the dogs. Thus it takes months, if not years sometimes, to get a point across…snatching a bit of time here and there over that span, before my message is complete. Unbelievably frustrating, especially on top of OTHER difficult trials that press on me. Even when he IS camped somewhere in my vicinity, serious conversation is impossible due to others congregating with him and shooting the bull.

> Poor little girl. if she could have stayed with you, she would have completely recovered by tomorrow.

Well, he’s jealous of how fond she is of me. The guy’s a fuckin’ idiot…seeing as the kindest regard possible is BEST for these pups. They, and he, have a great ally in me.

> But I’m glad you were candid with him.

Little good that will do.

[So, I stopped writing this missive after the line above, and have only resumed this morning. A little reflection and hindsight is a good thing. Allow me to elaborate, good doctor:]

Some time after dealing with Deek’s stupidity, I stepped out for a walk. He and the dogs were right outside, parked by the lamppost, with possessions scattered all about in a semi-organized mess. The dogs were comfortably settled on some plush, fluffy jackets. Lucky looked up the moment he heard the gate shut…no way, then, was I going to ignore him. I gave both doggies some assuring pats and light scritches as I told Deek:

“I’m gonna take a walk now, to burn off the anger I’ve built up, after all the nasty things you’ve said to me. Have a lovely night, all of you.”

He was very calm, just nodded his head while fussing about with some unknown, small items in his lap. Upon returning a short while later, I approached again and asked him:

“Do you remember last week you were out here, with a few others hanging around?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Not really.” I guess he thought I was about to admonish him further. But that was not my intent. I continued:

“Well, I was impressed. No one was loud, and it looked to me like quite a friendly gathering. I had NO problem with that, in fact I enjoyed seeing that right outside my window. And I’m glad to see you DO know some good people.”

He didn’t reply to that, but remained silent. I think my confronting his BS earlier that evening put him in a more humble space. Though my bodhisattva premise gives a totally DIFFERENT spin, which I will bring up at the end of this message. I do want to point out how all our arguing was low key, no yelling or even raised voices…mostly for the sake of the pooches, though also to avoid complaints from my quasi-fascist neighbor down the hallway, who seems to have his ears aimed at the street-facing window 24/7. Guess he can’t afford Netflix.

Apparently, Deek intended to park out front for the entire three hours his electronics were charging upstairs. When I returned with the gadgets, he had shifted his spot to the ATM alcove. Three other houseless dudes were hanging by the front gate, so close I had to squeeze by and make sure no one would slip inside, or keep the gate open like last time. They were really no problem, just sketchy…not like the polite group from last week.

I softly spoke with Deek not to do this again, don’t call me downstairs when vagrants are gathered around the gate; just wait till they disperse. For NUMEROUS reasons, not the least of which is my own safety. But also his: they may turn on him out of jealousy, seeing they have a housed friend stepping in and out the building, running errands for him…and giving him MONEY. They should NOT know our business, including where I live. IOW: stop broadcasting to every stranger on the street, my relationship with him. He said okay, but I doubt he’ll bother to make the change…he’ll just keep exposing me to potential harm. Not caring to realize it could impact him as well, along with the pups, in a bad way.

The brindlekin were curled up in a corner of the alcove, comfortably reposed upon those warm coats. Flaco got up and approached me for some hugs and kisses, then returned to her sleepy spot beside Lucky, after a few loving moments. It’s like she knows what I’m going through for their sake, and wanted to reassure me that everything will be fine. What a thoughtful doggy! Doesn’t Deek realize yet, what REMARKABLE canines these are?

He checked out his two battery packs and asked if I would mind charging them for another hour. It was only 10 PM, so I said fine, and returned back hovel to plug them in again. Upon my return shortly after 11, Deek was packing up, and the doggies ran up to me in their usual, joyful greets. I knelt on one knee to give Flaco hugs and smooches as she stood on hind legs, gazing sweetly into my eyes. At the same time, Lucky flopped himself on his back, right beside my feet, playfully squirming about while I rubbed his belly.

Before he departed, I reminded him it was ME who cleared out the jackasses from the smoke shop next door, who were hostile towards him…it was ME who drove out some dangerous residents who threatened the dog’s safety…it was ME who got the building manager to back off from his needless animosity and abuse of power…and it was ME who suffered several threats upon me, all for the sake of caring for Flaco & Lucky.

“So give me some credit here, Deek, show me some respect, stop your shitty accusations against me,” I concluded, with a finally statement: “GROW UP! It’s EASY!”

He said not a word, but kept his head lowered, while an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth.

“Do you have a cigarette?” I asked. (Yes, Wattson, I DO enjoy a smoke now and then, which Deek brings me sometimes: a cancer stick here, a cancer stick there.)

“Uh, no,” he softly answered.

“Really?” I exclaimed. “You’ve got one right between those lips!”

He sighed and then removed it, and began to quickly wave the flame of his lighter beneath the filter.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, but then realized he was sterilizing it.

Upon presenting me with the Marlboro 100, I lit it and took a few, satisfying puffs.

“C’mon, get me the chip!” he interrupted my nicotine bliss. I had forgotten to bring him back that 32 gigabyte micro card he just purchased at Walgreens, on which I had copied his entire collection of rap music.

“Nah, ya gotta wait, Deek, I wanna enjoy this smoke first.” I retorted. “Now I’m gonna get away from this riffraff crowded around me, and smoke in peace further down the block. THEN I’ll get you that chip. It won’t kill you to wait a few more minutes, asshole.”

I then strutted away into the dark, and did just that. When I returned with the chip, the dogs of course tugged on their leashes in the direction of the front gate. So I walked with Deek a short while, in order to ease their departure. I stopped after thirty feet, wished them well, and sadly watched them vanish into the void. But just before they did, Flaco gazed back at me with sweet regret.

[Hours have passed since I wrote the above paragraph. A flood of thoughts over last night’s meetup took me some time to sort through and compose. And I needed to just chillax, so spent the afternoon reclined on the fluffy bedding while some Youtube videos of the introspective, philosophical type played in the background. Then I went for a walk (it was lovely outside) purchased a small container of hummus, a bulb of garlic and an onion. They were out of bell peppers, so I’ll just have to cook my lentil-rice veggie stew without it. I checked out the avocados and they were all half rotten. Damn. After that delicious, perfectly ripe one I enjoyed a few evenings back, I foolishly thought I could come across a decent avocado at this or that local corner store. Silly me. I am now back hovel, to complete this rather lengthy missive:]

This morning on my stroll up Market Street towards Church, I ran into Boulevard Joe. A medium sized paper grocery sack hung from his fingers by those looped handles made of twine. It was smartly creased and appeared to hold a considerable weight. He said it contained breakfast for himself and two others. I was about to lean on him again, regarding Deek’s latest difficult behavior, but I thought better of it; this was not the time. Instead threw him a compliment on how great he looked the other day, when he was accompanying Deek and watching over the pups:

“You looked like a classy security guard for a celebrity. You were sparkling, I was impressed!”

He smiled and thanked me. “Oh that was the day I wore my blue shirt and red tie. Thanks.”

“Well, you were absolutely glowing,” I gushed. Which is true: I’ve never seen him look so good before.

He then excused himself, “I need to bring this food back while it’s still warm.”

I said sure, and we wished each other a good day. He had an air of confidence and joy that fit him well, like a new suit. Best of all: his sudden appearance and friendly demeanor had a calming effect on me, and my worries over Deek and the pups quickly dissipated.

So I think my harsh reprimands toward Deek gave him a taste of how awful his life would be without my friendship…or as I call it: “putting the fear of god in him.” For he was very polite to me, the rest of the night. In my disgust, I even attempted to return the devices, saying I’m not gonna charge them when he’s being so vulgar. I wound up taking them back, though…I just wanted to shock some sense into him.

But I’ve also noticed him being a lot more affectionate to the dogs, these past three weeks. As well as providing them with blankets, instead of forcing them to rest on concrete. So what the fuck is REALLY going on? Here comes the bodhisattva premise to explain it all:

They’re all actors, Wattson, making me into the hero of my world…as I’ve often said before. My surprise encounter with Boulevard Joe this morning served the purpose of soothing my soul, after the latest barrage of horror. And Deek’s disgusting accusations are nothing more than words from a script, to, again, provide additional opportunities for me to play the champion. But this act is all way too drawn out for me, I’m exhausted and wish it were over, curtain closed. But that’s how they play it, they know what they’re doing, and I must hang in there, for the Final Act will be superb.

And Arwyn, whom I believe is the author of this play, has begun showing up more frequently in my life…like an Alfred Hitchcock appearing for a brief moment in his films. Surprises lay ahead, let’s see how Miriam behaves this next Sunday.

I’m amazed at my own resiliency, that I could emerge from last night’s frightening visit with Deek, yet wind up feeling pretty damned good today, so soon after. It was Boulevard Joe who lifted my cross.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: It just got better!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 13, 2021 12:51 PM

Some time around 9:30 PM last night, I decided I should get that yummy looking tub of halvah (with pistachios) I saw earlier that day, on the snack shelf of the corner store that takes EBT. (I decided I can just remove the nut pieces, grind them up in my coffee mill, and mix them back in.) Which establishment is simply called “17th & Noe Market.” I wasn’t even sure they were open that late, but it’s only a one-block walk, the pups are sleeping, and it was a lovely night anyway. Before exiting, I donned the only colorful mask I have, one among many I found left discarded on the sidewalk. I’ve never looked closely at it, just liked the design in general.

The shop is run by an Arab family: very friendly, great sense of humor, and one of the clerks is an absolute doll! He looks to be all of seventeen, and is just as friendly and outgoing as the rest of ’em. I first met him a few days back, while looking for an item in the dairy section. He slipped right by me to stack and price some goods in a corner barely three feet distant. I couldn’t find what I wanted, so turned to him and asked:

“Do you sell any margarine in a tub?”

He paused and looked over the same shelves I was focused on, where they kept the milk, cream, butter, and the like…then grabbed a brand that I thought was soft butter, but wasn’t. It was “Country Crock” margarine. I said thank you, then asked:

“Could you please read the ingredients for me, I don’t have my glasses on.”

Without so much as a twinge of hesitation, the handsome boy grabbed the package and looked down at the label, to read aloud the following:

“Purified water, soybean oil, palm kernel and palm oil, salt, lecithin (soy), vinegar, natural flavors, vitamin A palmitate, beta carotene…” he then paused to look up at me. “Oh, that’s just the color.”

“Yes, I know that,” I replied, “go on.”

He lowered his head again (while I imagined running my fingers through through those dense shocks of tousled, raven-black hair) to finish with: “…and vitamin D.”

As he politely handed back the container, I made another request: “Could you read that once more for me?”

Again, without batting an eye he was about to take it from my hand, when I drew back and said: “Just kidding! I only wanted to be sure it didn’t contain hydrogenated oil. Thanks very much for reading this; you’re too kind.”

“Glad I could help!” he replied, then returned to his work price-stamping cans and boxes.

So that’s the kind of relationship I have with them, gregarious and with a goodly dose of humor. More THEIR doing than mine, I want to point out. How fortuitous that my switching which corner store I shop at (foisted upon me by a food stamp windfall) turned out to be such a winning formula. Now, back to last night:

That jet-haloed seraphim was working the counter this time and, as I plunked the halvah down, I declared:

“I didn’t even know you were open this late, but the halvah called me back.”

“Yes, we’re open till 10 PM every day of the week including Saturday and Sunday,” he informed me. Then, after a quick perusal of my face, he added: “I like your mask!

“Really? Thanks.” I replied. “I just picked it off the ground, like I do all my masks…then disinfect them, rinse them out, then wash in hot, soapy water, rinse again, and hang to dry.”

“May as well,” he kindly agreed. “I like it because that’s where I’m from!”

Confused at exactly what he meant, I pointed to the halvah, because it’s a Middle Eastern treat, and the label says “Made in Syria.”

“Do you mean this?” I queried.

“No, your mask, it has the flag of Palestine on it!” he clarified.

“Incredible, I had no idea,” I replied. “I like the colors, but never looked it over up close.”

I then pulled the mask a few inches away from my face (it was attached by two elastic strings that encircled my neck), so I could take a glimpse. Sure enough, there were the green and red stripes behind a revolutionary Arab flashing the peace symbol. Even better: the words “Free Palestine” encircled the image.

“Well that’s amazing,” I exclaimed. “And I am DEFINITELY pro-Palestine.”

“I’m glad you are,” he said. I then wished him an excellent evening and stepped back out into the cool, calm night kissed with a light flurry of ocean breezes…this time almost walking on air thanks to such a friendly exchange with a sparkling gem of a closure.

Thus the day ended on a most magical note: at the last minute a glorious emerald placed in the center of the crown Boulevard Joe so graciously set upon my pate earlier that day.

Now, here are three pics of that bless-ed mask, including an image of the Dome of the Rock on the left-cheek side:

Click here for a larger view.

Needless to say, it’s now become my favorite pandemic mask, and it will be a sad day when it becomes too worn out to wear any longer. But I assure you, good doctor, if the strap should ever break, yet the mask is otherwise still good, I will promptly make that simple repair.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: It just got better!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 13, 2021 3:36 PM

> Oh, that mask is a beauty!! And so was your adventure!!

Without that particular mask (which I didn’t make any fuss over at all, nor even knew its message) there wouldn’t have been that particular adventure. What were the odds? I am amazed. And yes, it is truly a spectacular mask. It certainly brought me good fortune last night, in more ways than one!

> I have a mask that says Harvard Medical School on it. Haven’t worn it in public yet. Even though I am, of course, a doctor…

Hardy har har, Dr. Wattson! More good news BTW:

Deek returned with the pups early this morning, asking me for an “advance,” and to take the pups. Well, his $40 allotment is supposed to be on Thursday, but Wednesday is okay be me, so I gave him the full amount. Hopefully, he’ll wait till Sunday, which is his $60 payday, instead of begging me for yet another advance.

He said that Flaco still barely eats, and her diarrhea looked and smelled like the kind one of his dogs from years back had, when it came down with parvo. So I said, while holding onto the leashes as the doggies eagerly scratched on the doors through the partly opened gate, DYING to step in:

“Oh, don’t make me sad, Deek!”

“But she seems fine now, just needs to get her appetite back.”

“Okay, I’ll feed them in an hour, after they’ve gotten some rest,” I assured him.

“Thanks again, Zeke, you’re a godsend. I could never do this without you.” And off he went, and God only knows what he’ll spend that money on.

With that, I opened the doors and released the hounds. They happily dashed up the stairs and right into my room, passing by an elevator worker as if he were invisible. But Lucky stepped backed out and into the hallway, thoughtfully waiting for me to catch up…even though he COULD’ve just crashed onto the comfy bedding, like Flaco does. Incredible dogs!

So Flaco & Lucky are now blissfully snoozing away…neither with any desire to step out for a poop yet, though it’s been awhile since they ate. I fed than almost four hours ago. Lucky ate his entire meal, but Flaco only a third. At least she’s eatin’ again…and more than just one or two bites! The little angel seems otherwise in great health, glossy fur, sparkly brown eyes, cold wet nose and all.

I’ve started taking them out for SEPARATE walks, as they bark a lot less than when together. And it’s easier that way to quiet them down, when the other is not around to distract. That way, when I DO walk them as a team again, I think they’ll be a lot calmer than before, when having to pass through the narrow gauntlet of stairs and hallway. Neither has any problem being left alone in the hovel, when the other’s out with me. And I’m only gone for fifteen minutes at most, anyway.

Deek’s decent behavior this morning showed me he’s listened to everything I said in our previous meetup (rocky as that was), has thought it all through, and appreciates my firm stance over the important matter of caring for his dogs. On another note:

I’m concerned about Dieter, as I haven’t seen him for three days now…and I’m used to our crossing paths once or twice a day! Six days ago, I saw him at the Mediterranean restaurant around the corner, which he frequents almost daily, where he wines or dines alone till friends join him later on. He was in considerable pain, and didn’t step out at all the previous day because of that. So I sat and talked with him for just a bit, then wished him a speedy recovery before departing.

The next day I greeted him as he exited the building, and I entered with my usual morning java in hand. He was in better spirits, and I told him how glad I am to hear that. But I haven’t seen him since!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Damn, she puked again!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 13, 2021 8:13 PM

This was just moments ago. I served them dinner around 6 PM…Lucky ate all of his meal, but Flaco wouldn’t even touch it. She DID eat a bit this morning, a third of her breakfast. At any rate, the vomit looks clean, that is, just light brown, the color of the canned food and kibble mixed together. She only vomited once, then returned to the cot and curled up. Flaco shows NO sign of discomfort, she is otherwise content. And earlier today when I took her for a walk, her poop was quite normal…not runny in the least, nor any weird color.

I need to impress upon Deek, the importance of having them sit or rest on a sheet of cardboard, rather than directly on the sidewalk. ‘Cause that’s how they can pick up gum or other sludgy waste, that they later attempt to lick off, which can be harmful to their health. So it’s not enough to just provide them with a cushy blanket to sleep on (or in, during cold nights), but to keep them from direct exposure to the concrete at any other time, as well. Cardboard is plentiful, and will do the trick just fine.

I’m also wondering if the sudden change to colder nights may have also disrupted her digestion. These are little doggies, fer crissake!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Damn, she puked again!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 13, 2021 10:15 PM

> As long as she’s acting normal, not lethargic or anything, she’s likely okay.

This time around.

> Does Deek let them wear jackets in the winter?

No, he stopped providing jackets for them last winter, and has never gotten them jackets since. I think he’d rather blow the expense on meth. He doesn’t keep them dry and sheltered from the rain…just lets them get sopping wet like him. He’s on some stupid fantasy about doing it all on the streets, and the dogs gotta live like that too. We’re all tough guys, see?

When I bought doggy jackets he kept “losing” them in less than a week, so I can’t afford to do that any more. I’ve bought so many, and kind people have donated so many, but that’s all over with. This is why I’m trying so hard to turn them into mascots of the Castro…so that others will help care for them.

I suspect that Flaco is just sick and tired of living on the streets. They BOTH should be housed, this is too much. IT’S FUKKIN INSANE, AND I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF IT, WITH MY HANDS TIED! THIS IS MADNESS. Deek will probably get pissed at me when I bring up (again) the “forcing-them-to-rest-on-the-filthy-sidewalk” matter. He’ll make it IMPOSSIBLE for me to explain WHY he needs to use cardboard. EVERYthing is always a hundred times MORE dificult to do, if Zach has a finger in it. But these are two, sweet LIVES in the middle of it all, they’re not pieces of furniture.

I tried bringing this up with Boulevard Joe, but he doesn’t really see anything wrong with forcing two little dogs to live on the streets. He’s great up to a point, but neither he nor anyone else on the streets who knows Deek, is gonna encourage him to treat the pups better. They think I’M the monster because Deek told everyone I tried to steal his dogs. THIS IS A FUKKIN NIGHTMARE.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Flaco has the blahs.

Subject: Pups still here, Flaco still not hungry…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 12:03 PM

…she even turns down her ducky treats! On our morning walk, you could tell she was a little sad, so I pet her a lot to reassure her that she’s loved. Her poop was normal, though scant…because she hasn’t eaten much for three days now.

Lucky ate his entire breakfast, but Flaco only took a few nibbles, then gave up and hopped back onto the cot.

She’s got the blahs, and I guess I would too, with an upset tummy. All she really wants to do is curl up and rest on the cot, though sometimes she’ll walk over to the box, and rest there awhile. She’s still affectionate and all that, wags her tail and kisses me, etc. So it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Once Deek returns, I’ll try to convince him to let her continue staying with me, until her appetite comes back. Right now, she just needs a quiet, cozy sanctuary in which to recover. Lucky’s fine, though.

Last night, I planned to walk them separately, so first took Lucky outside for 20 minutes or so. But when I returned to leash up Flaco, she wouldn’t budge! I tugged lightly to see if she’d hopped down from the cot…but nope, she stubbornly refused. Obviously, she did NOT need to poop or pee, and preferred to continue chillaxing on the cozy comforters. Fine with me.

She slept close to me all night long, repositioning herself now and then in my arms…very sweet. Lucky even decided to join the huddle, and moved up close, plunking himself right up against Flaco. So I hugged them both for hours! Dearest little pooches in the galaxy!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Pups still here, Flaco still not hungry…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 1:59 PM

> Poor baby.

Good news now: her appetite’s kickin’ in! A short while ago, Lucky informed me in his own doggy way, that he needs to go poop again. I figured Flaco would prefer to remain hovel, but as it turned out she jumped off the cot and wagged her tail, eager to accompany us!

Further up Noe Street, after Lucky relieved himself and kicked up the imaginary dirt to cover it all, I decided to see if she’d like a treat, though didn’t have great expectations. But sure enough, she snatched it out of my hand, plus several more, hallelujah! She was also quite perky when we exited the gate, barking at passersby as if to announce her return from wherever she was in her mind: “I’m here again, I’ve come back to life, troublemakers beware!” They were happy barks, both hers and Lucky’s.

Once we got hovel, I offered both mutts some more treats, offering Flaco twice the amount in larger chunks. But they decided they didn’t want that flavor anymore. (I have two snacks for them: the duck breast jerky wedges, and the softer, chicken-applesauce disks.) Those were the chicken goodies they turned down (even though they just enjoyed them a moment ago, outside), so I switched to the ducky treats, and they gobbled them up. Flaco, of course, consumed the larger portion, per my intent.

Still, my little angel has barely touched her morning dish, except for a nibble here and and a nibble there. It’ll remain on the floor another hour, in hopes she’ll finally indulge. But if not, suppertime around 6 PM may turn the tide. I sure hope so! At least she’s started getting some real food in her belly again. Those treats are wholesome, packed with nutrients!

I have this vision that, once Arwyn returns to my world, he’ll learn of my situation with Deek and the dogs, and instill some real FEAR in him that’ll make him clean up his act PRONTO, and treat the pups in every kind and responsible way possible. Enough so that, rather than sweat beads over Arwyn’s possible rage in seeing he’s STILL not doing enough, Deek will decide to hand them over to me, for once and for all.

Wouldn’t that be fantastic, good physician!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Flaco’s Feeling Better
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 2:41 PM

Click here for a larger view.
Click here for a larger view.

Re: Flaco’s Feeling Better
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 4:41 PM

> Aw! Little sweetheart!

And her darling brother right beside.

Click here for a larger view.
Click here for a larger view.

Re: Flaco’s Feeling Better
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 5:51 PM

Now neither of them is touching their food. I just set out two bowls, and each has only taken a few nibbles out of it. Arrgh!

They’re both in good spirits and all that, but they just won’t eat tonight! Maybe they’ll decide to nosh some more a little later on; the bowls will be waiting. Right now, Flaco has burrowed under the comforters and is scratching away at the bottomost sleeping bag, while Lucky is licking away at the self-inflating nylon pouch I use for a pillow. It’s for camping out, but I prefer it over the plushy types. They love licking heavy gauge nylon, whether it’s part of a jacket, backpack, or whatever else have you.

This is a dog’s world…I can’t relate, only watch and enjoy. Deek’s not back yet. Woof, woof, woof!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Flaco’s Feeling Better
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 14, 2021 6:08 PM

Here she is, peeking through the blanket.

Click here for a larger view.

Noe Art Mart

October 10, 2021

Every Sunday to the end of October, LGBT artists sell their lovely artwork in the Castro, on Noe Street, between Market and Beaver Streets…turning that one block into a sacred ground one day a week. Click on each image for a larger view, click on your browser’s back-arrow to return to this page. 25 photos in all.

The Final Chapter (part 22)

October 10, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17v]

Lucky loves the fluff, and tonight is no exception. Such a delight just watching him fluff stuff up!

Subject: More Dog Barking!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 26, 2021 10:22 AM

The pups have begun barking more frequently these past two weeks, going up and down the stairs. I think because they haven’t been dropping over as frequently, thus are more accustomed to dealing with strangers on the streets, and protecting Deek. And the hallways remain quiet as a church and vacant most of the time, so for them to see another person in the building still perturbs them. Though for MOST of these encounters, they do not bark at all.

Yesterday, they barked up a storm all the way down and into the lobby, because they heard someone down there. It was the mail person! Even though I held them short on their leashes, she moved to a far corner, cowering and eyes wide open. Rather overdramatic I’d say, as anyone can see they’re harmless, just like to make a big show of it at times. They wouldn’t stop barking until we stepped outside.

That evening, same day, right after we exited my hovel, again they started to bark like wild. I got them to quiet down somewhat, but then my new neighbor appeared coming up the stairs, so they resumed their loud barks as I held them back, so she could pass. But then Flaco escaped her collar and ran to the top of the stairs to block her way. So I knelt down to pull her back. The neighbor had a nasty scowl throughout the encounter; and the pooches didn’t stop barking until she entered her apartment.

So I’m sure she’ll complain to the manager, rather than allow the dogs to meet her, so they’ll calm down. These barking incidents are rare, but the timing yesterday was not good.

Most of the time when they bark at a resident, that person will just laugh and talk to them kindly. But some people choose to be assholes. Ironically enough, my new neighbor is almost the spittin’ image of Myrtle: close-cropped dirty blond, straight hair, petite in size, pinched face, and not particularly friendly. I’ve opened the gate for her a few times, since she moved in five months ago…not once has she said thanks.

Anyway, Deek dropped by last night, just wanted me to charge his new Bluetooth speaker, said I could keep the dogs over for a second night. He was quite congenial. He parked himself outside my building, where a few other homeless congregated…interesting they all had bikes. This gathering lasted a bit over two hours, and they were friendly and quiet throughout. Nor did they leave any trash behind. Impressive!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: More Dog Barking!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 26, 2021 7:18 PM

> Doggies are protective of you. And they might have sensed something “off” about the new tenant in that way they have.

Of course. But some people look for every excuse they can to fuck with me; that is my Castro experience writ large. Picking on the dogs is their latest game, because I love them so much. The wicked always strike at the heart, first.

> At least they’re little dogs, so no one has to be actually scared of them. They’re not exactly Presa Canarios.

Not even close. I’ll never forget the day, years ago, someone stepped into our long defunct laundromat-around-the-corner, with a Presa C. Some people use their dogs to terrorize others…they’re fucked up. It wasn’t even on a leash! I got outta there fast, left my laundry in the washing machine for a good hour, before returning when it was safe again.

> Speaking of which, I was discussing the Diane Whipple case with Greg, the guy I wrote the Iraq book for. Greg worked as a guard at Folsom Prison for a while. He met all kinds of “celebrities” there, including Charlie Manson. You may remember a scene in the book where Greg recalls Manson and a big hulking Aryan Nation brute named “Cornfed” getting into a fight (insitigated by Cornfed; Charlie was a 5’2″ pipsqueak and physical coward). Greg pulled his service revolver, and aimed at one guy and then the other, considering his options: He could go down in history as the guy who shot Charlie Manson, or he could shoot the entirely un-famous Cornfed. He chose Cornfed, wounding him in the leg, ending the fight.

Wow, that’s quite a story, Wattson! Greg should write another book, this time around his time as a prison guard. I’m sure he’d have a lot to say.

> Well–when Greg and I were talking about the horrible bloody lethal dog attack on Diane Whipple in the hallway of her apartment building, Greg said that the lawyer couple across the hall who lived with the dogs and failed to control them not only knew Cornfed–they had “adopted” him as their “son,” and that the dogs actually belonged to Cornfed. How’s that for a bizarre twist?

Terribly bizarre. But I did know about that aspect, already, as it was in the news about their association with Cornfed. The whole scenario was ghastly. I firmly believe that couple was homophobic, and planned Ms. Whipple’s horrendous demise. And got away with it, for the most part. Here is an article that covers this twisted tragedy:

The Unbelievable True Story of Bane the Nazi Hellhound, ‘Cornfed’ Schneider and the Dog-Mauling Case That Made Kimberly Guilfoyle Famous

In there, it says: “Not to mention, one of the prosecutors on it was Kimberly Guilfoyle, who now spends her time on TV defending white supremacists like her boyfriend’s father, President Trump.”

As you know, Ms. Guilfoyle was married to Gavin Newsom during his term as SF Mayor. Unbelievable!

Noel or Knoller also had sex with their Presas, BTW.


Noel told a reporter from Rolling Stone all about how impressed he was with the hellhound’s enormous dick, “Bane was confident, proud, handsome. Bane had an eye for ladies. He sees Marjorie, rolls over on his back and, bam, that big red arrow popped out. He had a hard-on that big. Boy, was that dog hung.” Later, in the same article, a former prison guard recalled how much Noel was impressed by Bane’s genitals, “I’d get on the phone with Bob to ask him about a case. And all he did was talk about how big Bane’s balls were.”


– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: More Dog Barking!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 26, 2021 10:17 PM

> Sick, sick, sickety sick sick.

In all directions, and on every level. The attorney who wrote that article linked in my last post, also wrote: “Finding Meaning in Diane Whipple’s Death.” The next-to-last paragraph is worth serious consideration…however, NOTHING has been changed regarding more sensible dog safety laws:


Society needs to look again at the usual prejudice against breed specific legislation. If dog owners really are entitled to have any kind of dog that they want, including Presa Canario dogs, and if dog owners can have any kind of dog in any kind of surroundings, including a crowded urban area and even a crowded apartment building like that in which Knoller, Noel and Whipple lived, then why was it fair for the Whipple prosecutor to condemn Knoller and Noel for owning those dogs? The Whipple trial was in many ways a breed specific prosecution. We should not permit this double standard to exist. Either we are for breed-based restrictions, or we are against them. We cannot tell dog owners that they can get any kind of dog that they want, but “throw the book at them” for having those dogs. It is hypocritical and will do nothing to end the dog bite epidemic.


But the final paragraph irks me, regarding his reference to heterosexuals in a rather strange context:


It should also be noted that Whipple’s death — specifically, the wrongful death lawsuit of Sharon Smith — raised issues that affect not only gays and lesbians, but mothers, fathers and other heterosexual people of the state. The resolution of those issues added another level of meaning to the horrible death of Diane Whipple.


Re: More Dog Barking! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 26, 2021 11:32 PM

> That last paragraph is vexing. I’m going to have to tease it apart tomorrow with a fresh brain (so to speak.)

I’d be most interested in what you DO conclude about such a bizarre statement. To me, it smacks of heterosupremacy.

> I’m still haunted, imagining what Diane Whipple experienced as she was being torn to pieces in that apartment building hall.

It’s always stuck with me, as well. Just this morning I crossed the street to avoid an owner walking his massive, bulky pit bull.

> Quite different, to my mind, from the case of Tatiana the Siberian tiger, who escaped from the pit at the SF zoo and killed one of the punks who’d been taunting her, throwing things at her and such. She leapt up, ignored other people, headed straight for the kid, found him, and killed him.

Disgusting people who abuse animals. They should all just drop dead, AFAIC.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: More Dog Barking! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 27, 2021 1:19 PM

> I had an old lady friend here, Gwen, a British ex-pat old enough to have been in London during the Blitz as a young adult. She was crusty, funny, and wonderfully acerbic. I remember telling her about the kid killed by the tiger at the zoo after he’d been throwing bottles at her and taunting her and such. Without missing a beat, Gwen just said, in her clipped British accent: “Good!”

My kinda gal! I would cherish having a cuppa with her, whenever she’d like.

Re: More Dog Barking! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 27, 2021 1:26 PM

> He could have made his point about the dog-bite laws that came about in the wake of Diane’s death being beneficial to everyone WITHOUT putting the gratuitous word “heterosexual” into it. It was sort of like those “riders” legislators attach to bills–completely irrelevant, but hitching a ride.

I think he has a problem with justice for LGBTs, as did the prosecution. And which I believe is why Noel and Knoeller got off so lightly. The way he inserted that bizarre and awkward “heterosexual” phrase suggests a level of discomfort re. gay people, that should have no place in the legal system.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Lucky & Flaco Crashing Here Tonight!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 27, 2021 9:12 PM

So, Kismet has seen fit to put a little FEAR in his heart, over the pooches’ safety. Things should go much better, now. He handed me a sheet of paper filled on both sides with a sea of small type, asked me to check it out. So I took a steady glance, to discover someone’s spreading COVID conspiracy shit. I told him so, that it’s garbage and he shouldn’t give it any more attention. But the GOOD part of this, is he’s started asking me profound questions in recent days, about politics and social trends. I can only give him rough outlines, because he has so LITTLE basic knowledge, it would take HOURS just to fully answer ONE of his many queries.

Flaco & Lucky were DEE-LIGHTED to visit my sanctuary once more. They ate and drank heartily, group hugs, kisses and belly rubs all around, and now they’re snoozing like there’s no tomorrow. But there IS tomorrow, and each day will get better from here on in.

Re: Lucky & Flaco Crashing Here Tonight!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 28, 2021 2:05 PM

> What an opportunity!!!!

I wonder, though…as I suspect he knows a LOT more than he lets on. IOW I think he PLAYS dumb. He reveals startling glimpses of insight now and then, that blows my mind. Thus I conjecture: he’s an actor, a bodhisattva guardian, a thespian on the stage we call life. The flyer he handed me included mention of the Jim Jones Massacre, and he asked me how rich black people wound up giving Jones all their money and property. So I explained to him a bit about religious cults.

> Little love machines!!!!

OMG they are SUCH sweethearts. They constantly express much gratitude towards me, in such endearing ways, it breaks my heart. People smile as we walk by, and I frequently receive compliments on their cuteness. I just want so badly for their brindlekin magic to spread across the Castro, that they become local canine celebrities!

Deek came by this morning to pick up his electronics, said he’ll return later to retrieve the pups. He gave me a little grief over the large speaker, and a new android tablet…called me back downstairs THREE times to make some pointless gripes. But it wasn’t anywhere NEAR serious, and he thanked me profusely and wished me a good day before parting for the nonce.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Oh for god’s sake…more barking!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 28, 2021 5:02 PM

About an hour ago I took the pups out for their afternoon poop-stroll, and no sooner had we exited my hovel, Wattson, than a neighbor’s door opened, and Flaco & Lucky began vociferating wildly. A tall fellow was standing at the entrance, blocking his dog, which is medium sized and totally calm. I pulled on the brindlekin’a leashes to move them downstairs, but they BOTH escaped their tethers and stood around the open door, still barking.

“Oh, no, they got out of their collars!” I commented matter-of-factly…then called them to me, and told them to quiet down (in a deep, calm tone, almost sotto voce), as I placed their collars back on. Which they did, almost immediately. I looked up at the dude, said “thanks for your patience,” and the pups and I continued our descent to the outside world.

The neighbor did NOT appear friendly at all, just stared at me. This is the SAME apartment where that woman also resides, whom the dogs barked at three days ago. It would be nice if these residents with their own dogs would offer to let my pups socialize with them for a few minutes here and there…because then their barking would cease, because no longer strangers. Otherwise, it will take longer for them to acclimate to seeing other mongrels in the building.

But at least that dog owner saw they do not bite, only bark, and they are obedient to me. Though I fear he may be one of those Castro queers who loves to scowl and find any excuse to be mean to another who is not part of whatever clique he claims for himself. Everybody wants to keep to themselves in this building, and they tend to be small-minded and selfish. They’d rather not HAVE anything to do with anyone else in the building, if they can avoid it…least of all an old queer with bad teeth who is the center of gossip in these parts.

I can imagine their shock and chagrin after seeing me come and go with the pups for weeks, then suddenly one day spotting them with Deek! “What? He’s letting two homeless dogs live here? How does the manager even allow that!”

At any rate, I know how to deal with whatever ridiculous conflict they may choose to invent: with patience, friendliness and an unyielding stance, like a bulwark against all storms.

Deek’s doggies have been more “barky” these days, because he’s been keeping them outside for greater spells of time, than he has been previously. Thus, they’re a bit more agitated having to deal with the crazies on the street without frequent breaks. I spoke about this to Deek, after he remarked how they’re more jumpy and irritable lately. Told him they are always calmer after visiting with me, and having them stay over once a week, for one or two nights in a row, should calm them down nicely.

Some of the tweekers out there have been teasing and harassing the pups, especially two nights ago. I don’t know if they got ANY sleep. He agreed to have them stay overnight more frequently, after I suggested they do just that. He’s worried about losing them, because of the chaos of living outdoors. Finally! I’m sure he now realizes why it’s a TERRIBLE idea to get Flaco pregnant (especially while still on the streets), and a GREAT idea to let them stay with me for longer spells.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: The Manager Seems Cool About It
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 29, 2021 10:58 AM

Walking up the stairs with the pups, after their morning ablutions, I encountered Kevin on the first landing. The doggies barked a bit, but turned the corner towards my room, and quieted down in seconds. As we walked by him, he said something to me, which at first I thought was “Can I speak with you?” and he’d say another resident complained. But that’s not what he said at all.

He just asked if the exterminator could check my room for bugs, around 2 PM today. I said sure, that’s fine…and with that, returned hovel. So the good thing is, he didn’t react towards the dog barks at all, just treated it like a normal thing (which it is). The bad thing is, I know the bedbugs have returned; in fact, I don’t think they ever left! Maybe reduced in numbers, but not entirely eradicated. I’ve been seeing a few every day, and yesterday about a dozen! I used the sticky side of electric tape wrapped about the handle end of a broomstick, to remove them from the wall by my bed. This seems to be the pattern ever since treatments began over a decade ago: that they never really go away. It’s just that barely a month ago, did the exterminator do my room last time.

But that’s another headache to deal with; I’m immensely glad he didn’t harp on the pooches. This is a major breakthrough.

BTW, Morey continues to be VERY supportive of my caring about the dogs. There are some good people here and there, and thank god for that.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Yet Another Breakthrough
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 29, 2021 3:57 PM

Returning from our afternoon walk, the pups starting barking halfway up the stairs…and when I reached my floor, there was Samuel (“chihuahua man”) standing with his doggies halfway down the hall. Flaco & Lucky continued to bark, but nowhere nearly as raucously as before (still loud though). I told them to quiet down, while holding a treat before their noses. I then led them around the corner and into my hovel, during which time they ceased the cacophony. As I passed them from about ten feet away, I said, “Sorry!”

Samuel kindly replied, “That’s alright.”

“Thanks, they’re getting better!” I replied, then disappeared.

So I’m very happy about this more positive rapport. Anyway, the exterminator dropped by two hours ago. Turns out he wasn’t here for a room check, but to actually do another treatment. For which I was totally unprepared, seeing as Kevin only mentioned a room check. Exterminator was cordial, said he’ll set up a date with the manager, and we can take it from there.

The dogs were present, and barked for awhile, mainly because he wore an orange and white gas mask that covered most of his face, with a fat filtration knob over each cheek! But the pups calmed down in another minute, and he got to pet them, told me what cute dogs they are.

We stepped back out right after that, as, surprisingly, Lucky informed me that he had to poop again. Two blocks up Noe Street was one of the hard hats that have been doing work on the house right next to Morey’s shop. The dogs would always step back and bark whenever he crouched down and extended a hand for them to sniff. But this time I gave him a few puppy treats, to see if that would change their tune. It did. And, fifteen minutes later as I looped back towards home, brought the pooches over again, to find out whether or not they’d bark, this time around. They didn’t. Instead, they looked up at him forlornly, in hope of another treat.

Don’t know why Deek hasn’t returned yet, as two nights have passed since he dropped them off. He’s done this before, though, so we’ll see. It would, however, be MOST unusual if he lets a third night go by.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek picked up the dogs earlier this evening.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 29, 2021 9:28 PM

He looked great, well scrubbed and dressed…organized, neat shopping cart, too. He didn’t stop to chat at all, just picked up the pups and a fresh supply of dog food…then off he went, after thanking me with genuine appreciation. Not a bit of snark dripping off his tongue.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Re: Deek picked up the dogs earlier this evening.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 30, 2021 2:16 PM

> That is my heart’s desire as well.

But it’s still quite a long shot, my keeping the dogs here. I don’t have a leg to stand on, if the property owner/manager really demands I get rid of them. Then there’s the matter of Deek signing them over to me. We’d have to go to the SPCA together, and fill out some forms. How could I get him to do that? Besides, only Lucky is registered to him, whereas Flaco is not on anyone’s records.

If he DOES hand the pups over to me, he may refuse to actually let me own them outright. Which means he can take them back whenever he wants, and I have no say in it.

So, the manager has yet to set up my next bug treatment day. If I don’t hear from him by early evening, I’ll contact Paolo (the exterminator) to see what’s up. Kevin made that appointment with the exterminator w/o telling me, except the same day…but made it look like just a room check (because that’s what he called it), in which case I wouldn’t have the room prepped. Which is exactly what happened. He’s supposed to first suggest a date at least two days in advance, and if it’s not good for my schedule, we come up with a day that DOES work for me.

So the manager could keep this up, claiming he’s told me each time, several days in advance, but I’m not complying. IOW: this could be a setup to threaten my residency. That’s why I will phone Paolo later today, if Kevin doesn’t contact me. So if my next treatment HAS been arranged, Paolo will tell me the date.

My OTHER concern is that I share my wall with the same neighbors who are upset with my dogs barking at them, or their dog. So they may eventually blame me for the frequent bedbug infestations, even though it’s obviously the half-assed extermination method.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek dropped the pups off this morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 1, 2021 6:21 PM

A hot day, so they are now chillaxin’ like a boss. Deek told me the homeless outreach folks don’t even come up to him anymore, regarding getting a roof over his head. He’s approached them on his own, several times over the past several months, but they keep giving him the runaround, says they’re going out of their way to help all the REALLY crazy ones, but seem to have no desire to give HIM a helping hand.

We talked about a few other matters, nothing urgent. Suffice it to say he’s stable and neat appearing…and that’s what really counts. I gave him a bit of a pep talk, before we parted ways. Though I did tell him my room will be treated again, this Wednesday…and I’ll remind him once more, as the day approaches.

So glad the day’s finally cooling down, for the pups’ sake as well as mine. Their appetite is back, which hot weather works against.

Re: Deek dropped the pups off this morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 1, 2021 11:28 PM

> Dankeschön for a most excellent report!!

It gets even better! Earlier tonight I took the pups for a stroll, and they started to bark as we passed by a homeless person sitting on the doorsteps of a house on Noe & Beaver Street (a block down from Morey’s shop). The fellow chuckled, said “woof woof” back at them. He’s a crusty, gray-bearded old fellow of slight build who showed up in the Castro around six years ago. I’ve never talked to him, but tonight after walking past him about twenty feet, I decided I would. So I turned around and came up to him, while the pups kept barking, but not too much.

He laughed and reached out a hand, which they both sniffed, then backed off and barked some more. So I grabbed a couple of pieces of broken up treats and offered them to him: “Here, give ’em this.”

He first gave one to Flaco, then I pulled her back a bit, so he could give the remaining piece to Lucky. If I didn’t distance her somewhat, she would have snatched it up before her brother had a chance at it. The vagrant was delighted, so I asked his name.

“Roger,” he said.

“Please to meet you, Roger,” I replied. “See? They’re not barking any more!” Indeed they weren’t, but gazed up at him instead with mournful brown eyes, in hope of another treat.

I withdrew two more pieces of duck jerky from my pocket and handed them to Roger.

And so he fed them a second round. Then I wished him a lovely night, and off we vanished into the shadowy night beyond. After ten more minutes or so, we returned hovel, but before we entered the front gate, I decided to do the same thing to another homeless person sitting nearby and playing plastic buckets like drums. The pooches, of course, were barking at him.

“Would you like to give them a treat?” I asked. So he did, and Flaco & Lucky quieted down. I repeated the gesture, to his delight, as well as the dogs’. Then I told him:

“You were so friendly when we stepped out, offering to get up and move a bit further from the gate, so as not to upset them. So I thought I’d be nice back.”

I did not ask him his name, but will, next time. He showed up barely two weeks ago, with his makeshift instruments…and drops by every evening for an hour or two, and plays them right below my window! Coincidence, or am I more well known than I realize…among the homeless? And does Deek have anything to do with this?

Now, it’s a couple of hours later, I’ve had my supper and decided to step out for a short, night-time stroll by myself, while the doggies snooze away in comfort. The air was deliciously cool, a refreshing balm for the lungs. The word that comes to mind that best describes it is CLEANSING!

A peaceful, cheery ambience permeated the Castro, and, while hoofing it up Noe Street and back again, I imagined this scene with Deek:

He was sitting on the sidewalk by the bus stop, waiting to pick up the dogs. Down the stairs I came, with tethered pups at my heels. He sat there kind of morose, or maybe just somewhat bored, so I addressed him:

“You should be really happy at this point in your life, Deek, what with all the good things I’ve been doing for you for so many years…not to mention what delightful friends you have with these two angels!”

“Well,” he began, looking straight ahead into traffic, with chin resting in both hands, and elbows upon his knees. He said no more, just shrugged his shoulders.

“I got you figured out, Deek,” I went on. “You’re doing this all for me!”

“All what?” he asked in a rather dreary tone.

“Well, for one, these dogs,” I pointed at them, parked now beside him in blissful camaraderie. “They’re your gift to me, for being a friend.”

He didn’t speak a word back, but just continued to look directly forward as a passenger bus rumbled up to the stop, paused for a few seconds to regurgitate several passengers, then chugged along to the end of the line at Market & Castro.

“You knew about me months before we ever met, Deek! You set things up by making a point of walking back and forth through my neighborhood until I finally introduced myself.”

He still said nothing, but a grin began to emerge on his countenance. So I continued:

“You did this all for me: the dramas, the crises, the being the pain in the ass so many times. All to guide me, to grow me into the better person I am now.”

Soon as I said that, he tilted his head and looked directly at me, with a wry sparkle in those hazel eyes. But only for one or two seconds before he resumed his vacant stare into an unknown distance.

“You’re my guardian angel, Deek.”

So that’s the daydream, Wattson. And I think I’ll tell him that next time we meet. For I have a hunch it will make him VERY happy, no matter how nonsensical my proclamation may strike him. It will certainly strike his funny bone!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Encounter with a friendly hardhat!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 2, 2021 10:37 AM

This morning, as the pups and I approached Morey’s shop on Noe Street, a repairman working on something below the street (a cable, probably, as my bank’s ATM servuce a block away was down yesterday, as was Morey’s electronic payment system) called to me:

“Those are very cute doggies!” He was around 55 years old, 5-foot-9 with close-cropped ginger hair and beard.

So I brought them right to the worker. Of course they barked, but that soon stopped as I gave him some treats to feed them. I told him a bit of my story, that they actually belong to a homeless friend, and it’s been up and down, joy and grief, all along. How I tried to take ownership, but the cops got involved, and I had to find another way to work with Deek. Told him that I hope to turn them into the mascots of the Castro, that there be helping hands throughout the district.

He was very impressed, said, “At least you get to be with them on a regular basis!”

“Yes, that’s true,” I replied. “It’s like a fairy tale.” Then I described how I’m the knight in shining armor, the dogs are the princess captured by a dragon, and the dragon is Deek’s bipolar mood swings. But to rescue the princess, I must also rescue the dragon, not slay it, by friending it as well as the pooches. I also went into the conflicts I’ve had in my building, over the dogs…and how I’ve stood my ground and won my battles.

This is the first time I’ve told a stranger who admired Flaco & Lucky, that they’re not really my dogs, but a homeless person’s.

So here’s my new routine: bring treats whenever we go for a walk, and invite people (including the homeless, if they appear friendly) to feed them a couple of goodies, that the pups become less barky, and feel more welcome. And, over the weeks, this is how they become mascots. Here come the helping hands!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: An AMAZING Morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2021 9:56 AM

The pups are back with Deek, so I went dogless to Rosenberg’s for my morning coffee. The street artists began to show up for their weekly sales on Noe Street, which covers the length of a block, with cars banned. One of the first artists to show up, a painter, said good morning to me, where I sat sipping my java, on a concrete ledge bordering our community garden.

We talked about this and that for a few minutes, when along came Dominic (Deek’s cousin) hobbling along with an electric bike he copped from Lyft. It had no battery, but was rideable. Some of the homeless adapt such bikes, without having to pay to ride them. They’re all over the city.

Miriam, the friendly painter, knows him, and asked how he is today. So Dominic sounded off with his usual gripes, which he always does whenever he sees an opportunity to squeeze money out of someone. The many times I’ve asked him how he is, he’s always come up with this or that serious malady, all feigned. Though this time around, he was wearing medical shoes that keep his feet mostly bare…to reveal a right foot with two toes badly twisted from bunions (the big toe and the one right next to it).

So I let them talk, with Dominic detailing his woes, for which Miriam handed him a ten-dollar bill. Some moments later, who should ALSO come moseying on by, but Arwyn! She knows him too, and said hi. He gave both her and Dominic (whom he knows well) a warm greeting in kind, though kept on walking, disappearing around the corner moments later. Of course he didn’t acknowledge me, nor I him.

Dominic finally moved on (thank god), at which time I pointed out to Miriam that he ALWAYS is filled with woes to share, whenever someone asks how he is…it’s his way of procuring money. He never speaks with good cheer, as that would crimp his style. Then I told her a bit about Arwyn. She knows him very well, especially from the past when he was considerably more reckless.

I told her he’s one of the two heroes in my book, “Free Me From This Bond,” and how he and I have had quite a history for almost a decade, so far. But since he moved to the Castro, he ignores me. I described further my philosophy about all this a.k.a. the “bohisattva premise,” making it clear that I have no hatred towards him or any others who’ve turned on me. She was acutely interested in my stories, including Brindlekin Tales. She’s seen me with the doggies several times over the past months.

So I told her they’re not really MY pooches, but belong to Deek who is, strangely enough, Dominic’s cousin. I ran back hovel to return with my Brindlekin Prayer Card, and she was excited about reading my works. Said she LOVES to read, and it’s fascinating that it’s about people she knows, and the Castro. She then unfolded a chair, placed a cushion on it, and told me to have a seat.

Other artists had shown up by then, to set up their wares for the day. She introduced me to four of them, and they invited me to partake of some yummy fast food and coffee…which was awfully nice, though I turned down their gracious offer. But we talked some more about various things, all to my interests (women’s rights, alcohol in gay events, etc.). Upon departing, I said to Miriam:

“There’s a REASON we met, and both Dominic and Arwyn came by at the same time!”

“Yes, that’s extraordinary,” she replied.

“And a lot of why this is happening is explained in my book, ‘Free Me From This Bond,'” I proudly embellished.

Then I returned home, absolutely gobsmacked over this incredible turn of events, and wrote you this missive. She and all the other artists are out there right now, and will be until the late afternoon…and every Sunday (until the rains come, I guess). So I can pop over later today, to visit with them again, and do so every Sunday.

Told you Arwyn would start showing up in my world again, with greater and greater frequency! And now I have new friends to help spread the Brindlekin Gospel!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: An AMAZING Morning!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2021 12:41 PM

> Now, that’s what I call sin-crow-nissitee!!!

I suspect bodhisattva manipulation has more to do with it…though, yes, from our human perspective, one may call it synchronicity, and be correct.

> Truly extraordinary!!!!!!!

I first was sitting by myself, no one around, just sippin’ on my good ol’ java…and had decided to say hello to any passerby, as part of my new program to become known as a neighborhood asset and icon. And do that every single friggin day for now on.

So, shortly after three hellos over the course of ten minutes, all the action unfolded. Coincidence? I think not!

– Zeke K-Holmes

From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 3, 2021 1:36 PM

I was busy (on this hot, sweaty day) getting a pile of my laundry washed and heat treated ahead of time…so I won’t have to rush like a maniac the day before the exterminator arrives. This gives me the luxury of also WASHING them, rather than just running them through the driers. The pups, if they stay over again before that time, will just have to do without the comforters. Instead, I’ll toss a few fluffy jackets down. There will also be no throw rugs, just newspaper and some cardboard flats. ‘Cause I’m doing the rugs today, too, which means I’ll have to bag them until Wednesday night, after the bug eradication that afternoon. Because of this morning’s excellent scenario, I am HIGHLY motivated to get through this prep, as I now can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The bedbugs are part of the challenges that teach me how to better deal with life’s frustrations and disappointments. That is: they are bodhisattvas themselves, in a way. And once I make that long-sought-after breakthrough, they, too, shall be gone. For good. This breakthrough is, of course, my own personal liberation that involves securing the pups’ lives and that of Deek’s. Along with momentous life changes for people around me, and LGBT rights overall. IOW:

This latest manic cycle bubbling up in my psyche will spill over to everyone around me! It will not just be an internal eruption, but part of a greater destiny. I can now see how others in the Castro will help care for the pups, and for improving Deek’s life as well. Which compassionate expressions will expand beyond just my own goals, but do much for many other homeless who call this neighborhood home.

I came to realize several days ago, that I am becoming quite the local celebrity, what with my walking the cute-as-a-button pups that everyone oohs and aahs over, the confrontations in my building that I have successfully overcome, and my helping to squelch the threat of any further nasty attacks upon Morey’s shop by Myrtle’s son and his punk lackeys. Once I realized that, I figured I should start saying hello to people during my strolls, and carry treats for them to bond with Lucky and Flaco. That is: BUILD UPON my budding reputation.

And then, this awesome morning event happened, like the sun’s rays bursting through a cloud! Can’t wait till Arwyn resumes our stupendous association. For it is HE who once stopped me and said: “Our friendship, our being brought together, is an INCREDIBLE godsend!” That was in May of 2014. So glad I’ve documented all this, over the many years. For things are now falling into place quite amazingly, and my documentation gives evidence, like holy scripture. GAY holy scripture, that is.

You know what, good doctor? These artists I met this morning are in on it…that is, my bodhisattvas as well. I’m sure of it. All the world’s a stage. Let’s see how this newest act unfolds. I will be dropping by to see Miriam again, later today.

– Zeke K-Holmes

RE: Ohio added to California travel ban list due to anti-LGBTQ+ law
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Carlyle Lambourne
Date: October 5, 2021 11:04 AM

On 2021-10-05 05:38, Carlyle Lambourne wrote:

> You know, it is a funny thing about covid-19, that for years when I was harvesting “word salads” for poetic expression, which I believe had been placed on internet intentionally, with a purpose, just for me to find and act as a kind of “messenger boy”, or “avenging angel” boy, as the case may be, I noticed that many of them were filled with morbid references of calculated nonsense, mixed with relatively sophisticated references to microbiology, etc., indicating that the nonsense was really not merely nonsense, but more just playing “mind games”, perhaps to make the picture more visual of a world slipping into madness, and/or to highlight the fear factor of our not really being able to know what is going on, and where we are going, but that something is very dangerous and wrong.

The gift of prophecy is often not discerned by the prophet himself, except with hindsight…often when someone else who reads or hears the prophet’s words points it out. At least, that has been the case for me. Though the prophet IS sometimes conscious of the prophecy at the moment he calls it up. (That was quite a sentence there, BTW.)

> As I showed you once, when I searched my own, old material, particular;y one called “Death in a Cave”, long before covid, it did even have reference to coronavirus experimentation. It also referred to the biowar scientist, Frank Olsen, who had been murdered by the CIA, and whose son I had some brief email discussion, improbably enough, shortly before covid.

That is indeed HIGHLY improbable, thus a strong indication that something ELSE is going on, of a hidden nature. How did you come to have communication with Olsen’s son, anyway? What brought you to him? I found “Death in a Cave” (dated 2007) here, and have just read it again:

Particularly stunning is your “Poet’s Postscript,” especially Sheila Lynch’s mysterious and sudden death…and a description of the most likely kind of bioterror virus to manifest: one that is not just so widespread as to make quarantine impossible, but one which symptoms are not evident until considerable time has passed, yet is highly contagious during said time. And that is exactly what has happened with COVID-19.

> That poetic surrealism was posted around the time that Boston was first contemplating putting a level 4 biosafety lab in the city, which I had thought was a bad idea, for the very same reason as Wuhan.

It certainly raised the alarms in your OWN psyche!

> Ironically, if the powers-that-be had taken seriously the message in that “poem” of sorts, they might have even avoided the covid pandemic.

Money, power and greed get in the way…in addition to plain old shortsightedness. You can be a scientific genius, yet still lack certain abilities to plan things out with great care. Though things are even more complicated than that.

> I had said repeatedly, out loud, long before covid, that these “rogue agents” or whatever you want to call them, that had hypnotic “mind control” ability, were hinting at retaliation in the form of biological warfare.

Too many cooks spoil the broth, so to speak.

> It has made me wonder all along if covid-19 could be a revenge against the Trump supporters, against the Republicans, against the whole country for not having enough decent and sensible people to prevent a sick, fascist bully like Trump from gaining power. A way of saying “enough is enough”, if they want to be like that, we can just starting pulling the whole temple down.

That may very well be the case…knowing that right-wing fools would get caught up in their anti-vax tomfoolery, as to wind up dying en masse…whereas the more intelligent, progressive types would not succumb to idiocy. Thus, COVID-19 becomes the world’s first “anti-stupid” virus. With more capable, better targeted, engineered “anti-stupid” pathogens on the way.

> Since that time, I even found similar “word salad” material related to covid, specifically, that I’ve been sitting on, and haven’t done anything with it, yet.

As I said earlier in this response: prophecy is often discovered with hindsight. Thus, such gifted people usually suffer the Curse of Cassandra. And I don’t mean “prophecy” in the biblical sense, but as more broadly defined via pre-Abrahamic and native cultures (such as Celtic, Native American, shamanic, and so forth). We need to reclaim many of the ideas that Christianity has stolen and claimed as their own. In those ancient times, poets were often the mouthpieces of “the gods,” or whatever else you choose to call these greater forces that bind us all.

But as I’ve learned over the years, via Buddhism, Hinduism, Kabalism and native belief systems: no matter what era you live in, no matter how violent and chaotic your present existence or reality or world may be, it is always the better path that chooses to be steady, balanced and calm. Thus, learning how to rid oneself of horrid scenarios conjured up in one’s mind (though they may be triggered by outside, even distant, events, such as what we get from the news), is a vital process of what the Buddha called “right-mindedness.”

For only then can you figure out the best way to proceed, whenever a REAL crisis emerges in your life. You will be better prepared to squelch whatever demonic scenario confronts you, and tries to scare the shit out of you, with threats of utter destruction and misery upon your person.

Which is really the great lesson (among others) in my seemingly mundane “Brindlekin Tales.” Which stories will go a LONG way in liberating LGBTs, no matter where on the planet they reside, including the most homophobic regions.

– Ezekiel

Subject: Pups in a Blanket
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2021 6:54 PM

Deek is keeping the doggies away, so I can prep my hovel. Surprisingly, I came across them yesterday morning, on the corner of Noe & Beaver Streets, barely a block up from Rosenberg’s. I was on the other side of the street, with fresh java in hand. He saw me, and I waved at him, and he waved back. Around twelve minutes later I strolled up the other side of Noe and, as I approached, placed a finger on my lips, in hopes of being able to pass by without waking Flaco and Lucky. Deek had company: another homeless dude who appeared well dressed and friendly.

Alas, Lucky raised his head as I passed…guess he smelled my presence, because they BOTH were asleep. So I crouched down to pet him. Flaco then began to stand up, but I eased her back down with some petting, said, “Don’t get up on my account, please keep resting!” She understood and lay back down as I rubbed her belly. Her eyes were half open in that adorable, drowsy gaze. Best of all: they were lying down on a lovely, thick comforter, velvet to the touch, with ornate designs in maroon and black. “Well done, Deek!” I thought.

Not much talking went on, it was a most peaceful visit, albeit brief. Upon departing, I wished them all a good day, and Lucky raised his head again, as I moved on. As if to say, “Oh, I wish you could stay!” Such a thoughtful little doggy! They both are.

My room is pretty much fully prepped; just a few more things to arrange tomorrow, to complete the task. I could even have the pups over tonight, should Deek drop by and ask me to watch them. So long as he shows up the next day, by noon. We’ve done that once before, and he was prompt in picking up the pooches.

The bedbug treatment is scheduled for tomorrow, between 2 and 4 PM. So I won’t be able to reenter my hovel till some time around 8. But I’m gonna go right back there, shortly after the exterminator is done, in order to snatch that horrible notice from my door, that announces to everyone who passes by (and most every resident does, because no working elevator yet) that this unit has just been sprayed for pests. I never see such a sign posted on anyone else’s door! What a fuckin’ insult to do this to me! It’s as if Kismet persists in portraying me as the local weirdo, the witch at the end of a twisted path on the edge of the village, by constantly setting me up with humiliating scenarios.

Once I dispose of that notice, I’ll step back out again, and take the N Judah to the Inner Sunset, where I’ll while away two or three hours. BTW, two nights ago I saw that homeless guy who plays drums on discarded containers. He was directly across the ATMs and sat right against the lamppost. Soon as he saw me, I smiled and approached him…this time, without the doggies in tow. He asked if he was making too much noise. So I replied:

“Nope, it’s not the kind of noise I find bothersome…play away! Just don’t do it when it’s after midnight.” It was around 9:30 PM at the moment.

He said that, further down the block, someone threw a bottle at him. So I told him that’s terrible, because he’s very polite and affable. I then asked him his name.

“Chris,” he said, “what’s yours?”

I told him “Zeke,” then wished him a lovely night and took off for my late-hour stroll up Noe Street. The pseudo-drums resumed beating in the background, their staccato rhythm.

Also, yesterday I had a friendly chat with my new neighbor across the hall, who has a little chihuahua. His name is Donnie, and he lives with his girlfriend. I think they were occupying a unit on the third or fourth floor, and moved down here two months ago. I told him about my dog’s barking whenever they see another canine in the hallways, and suggested I give him some treats to get acquainted with them. He made it clear he has no problem with Flaco & Lucky, and will be glad to introduce himself to them, next time their paths cross.

So that’s good!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Pups in a Blanket
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 5, 2021 9:11 PM

> All is calm, all is bright….

Well, I put a lot of psychological elbow grease to get there. Kismet has forced me into many conflicts these past months, that I never really brought upon myself. But as a result, I put others around me through changes, because I held firm, while remaining calm and friendly through it all. This can’t HELP but ripple outward with a positive impact. It eventually doesn’t remain within my own bubble of existence. Or, look at it another way, and you can say my bubble has dramatically expanded!

I can’t help but be astounded at how supportive Morey has been to my dog rescue project! He’s a bodhisattva who plays my ally.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Republican Calls For A Holy War
From: Carlyle Lambourne
To: Zeke’s Mailing List
Date: October 6, 2021 7:32 AM


Conversely, we should have shock troops to take down Steve Bannon.

That creep had been down in Brazil, plugging for the election of Jair Bolsonaro, who said he would want a gay son dead. Bolsonaro also only praised how the U.S. had wiped out indigenous people and now “did not have a problem with them”,
as “Brazil did”. Under Bolsonaro, indigenous people have suffered a sharp increase in attacks, enough to bring charges of genocide. There has been been increased decimation of rain-forest under Bolsonaro’s Trump-like “screw the
environment”, money-hungry attitude.

Similiarly, Bannon praised Judge Roy Moore to the stars, calling him “righteous”, no matter how Moore had called gays “indescribably evil.” The mainstream media to my knowledge never even mentioned the detail, how Moore had links on this web-site to Christian Reconstructionists who wanted death for gays.

Bannon has also expressed admiration for Italian fascists. The worst fascists of all are the “philosophical fascists,” who don’t see themselves as just thugs and power-grabbers and haters, but as intellectual deep-thinkers of what is best for society.

Bolsonaro, the good Catholic, like many dictators before him, touts “family values” as a cue from the U.S right-wing game plan.

We should not go peacefully into that night. People like Bannon, Moore, Bolsonaro should all have bullets in them, same attitude toward them as they take toward us. These people are far, far too gone to even think of reasoning with them. With Christian, gibbering freaks, you can hardly have a meaningful exchange of a single sentence, much less a rational discussion. If these people are not put in their place at the ballot box, this would become the reality thrust upon us: gruesome battle in which we suffer and die, or living as crawling worms under the thumbs of fascist thugs.

Regards, Carlyle

Re: Pups in a Blanket
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 6, 2021 11:49 AM

> Damned right you did!

Today’s bedbug treatment day, gotta be outta here in two hours. Stress level is less than it’s ever been in previous prep cycles, despite the stupidity of the whole scenario. So I’m kinda proud of how I’ve come to deal with it: just another challenge to overcome re. not getting caught up in anger or depression. I am nonetheless a bit exhausted.

Subject: Deek just saw Arwyn a Few Minutes Ago!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 6, 2021 11:09 PM

Though it was nighttime, and Arwyn was a half block away and diminishing fast, with his back to us. Still, distinctive enough for Deek to recognize him at any time in the future.

I had just stepped out to deliver another sack of dog food to Deek, who was across the street. We have this new policy I came up with, to keep the pups a good distance from my hovel, if he doesn’t plan to let them visit. This way I won’t feel like I’m teasing them with high expectations of coming over, if they’re near the front gate.

As I approached my corner, I espied Arwyn who just turned left up Noe, so as Deek crossed Market Street to pick up the goods, I said while pointing: “Look, that’s Arwyn!”

“Where, where is he?” Deek gasped.

“There! There!” I desperately joggled my pointing arm several times for emphasis…and Deek’s eyes followed. “He’s wearing a white shirt, see? And he always keeps a jacket tied around his waist.”

I figured that, between Arwyn’s habit of securing a jacket upon his hips, and his extraordinary height, Deek would have NO problem spotting him again, on his own.

And I firmly believe Arwyn set that up, timing and all…plus he wore a white dress shirt to make it easy for me to identify him from a distance.

Earlier this evening, I stepped out for a short stroll and came across two halves of a perfectly ripe avocado left behind on the steps of someone’s home. A transparent plastic knife stuck out of one half. I gingerly touched it to discover it was at the peak of perfection, and would be a very tasty addition to my veggie-lentil stew. I looked around to see if anyone was nearby, that it might belong to. Nope. Someone just left it there. (Or maybe a resident of the house those steps belong to, had dashed inside for a moment to grab a shaker of salt or some lime wedges, to complement the avocado. I don’t know; I didn’t hang around.)

So I snatched it up and held it in one open hand and, halfway back home, found a small basket that obviously once held berries or figs from today’s Castro Farmer’s Market. I picked it up and placed the two halves of the avocado in it, with the knife still sticking out…then continued my walk home, enjoying the cool autumn air. Only an hour before had I been able to reenter my room, and I was glad to have gotten everything back into their proper places, including comforters, throw rugs and work station.

Deek had forgotten that today was my bedbug eradication day, and was waiting for me around the back. Where he was seated with the pups, and a bunch of long branches of a marijuana plant, thick with fresh “shake,” which leaves he was in the process of stripping off, in preparation for drying somewhere else, some hidden location I guess, where warm air would blow out from a vent (perhaps a laundromat).

We had a nice visit, but I told him I won’t be able to enter my room for another hour and a half…and it wouldn’t be ready for the pups for another hour after that, if he was planning to have them visit. I sat down on the slanted sidewalk to play with the doggies, who vied for my hugs and scritches. Flaco is so sincere! She stood beside me with one paw raised, looking up at me with great affection. So of course I swept her up in my arms.

Lucky took it all in stride, and just flopped down on his back beside me, and wiggled and made funny snorting sounds while I rubbed his precious belly. Deek was focused all this time on stripping and sorting out the leaves.

That veggie-lentil stew studded with dollops of fresh avocado was drool-worthy BTW!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Click here for a larger view.

Brindlekin Sleepover Tonight!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 7, 2021 8:05 PM

Deek dropped by a half hour ago, said I can have them over for the night…it’s gotten colder outside, so they need a break. He was cordial, nicely dressed, well mannered. Not a smidgeon of erratic behavior or thought to be witnessed. The pups just enjoyed a hearty meal, and are now blissfully tucked in for the night. Flaco loves the new box I found in the basement: deeper and thus more secretive, like a tunnel. She went nuts digging away in it, soon as she entered the hovel. See pic, notice the scratched-out back. It’s dark and cozy in there, I just used some light for the photo. She’s back inside the box right now, she loves the option to hide there, or in the cupboard. Don’t know why neither doggy cares to hide under the cot, as I’ve set it up just for them: a dark, private, comfy space, too!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Finally!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 6, 2021 9:04 PM

I stepped out for a short stroll while the doggies were deep in puppy dreamland, and lo and behold, I bumped into Boulevard Joe on Noe Street, by the PG&E electric box buried beneath the sidewalk, with the cement lid removed, so he could do his thing, charging several devices.

So I FINALLY got to tell him that, if for some reason, god forbid, Deek should be suddenly carted off to jail or an emergency room, the dogs should be brought to me. Because I don’t want Flaco & Lucky stolen by someone, and they get lost to us forever. Joe said they’d probably deliver ’em to Animal Control, which is worse. I told him if that happens, I should know about that, too, so I can get them out ASAP.

We talked about other things, too, including he and several other street friends are being drawn into an artist’s graphic novel, which is presently a work in progress. I told him I’d love to see it, when it’s ready. So that was a small victory for me, Wattson, towards Deek and pups’ further protection, and I’m SO glad that was finally accomplished.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Finally!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 7, 2021 11:30 PM

> VERY good!!! Animal Control would be a death sentence. It must not happen!

Without a license, and no proof I’m the owner, the dogs would probably be killed in five days. Yes, this is horrific. Deek’s irresponsibility is unfathomable, he does not GRASP the tragedy he could avoid, if only he’d drop his paranoia.

My discovery. Click here for a larger view.

Subject: You will be charmed to see what I discovered…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 8, 2021 12:09 PM

…by the N Judah stop at Duboce Park on Wednesday, on my way to the Inner Sunset. See attached photo.

Re: You will be charmed to see what I discovered…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 8, 2021 12:35 PM

> Ach, my dear old pal….

Yes! His way of saying hello to you, via my hand. I thought it might be another author by the same name, as I didn’t know he wrote any foodie book. But the list of his other publications checks out, including coauthor Gene Siskel. See attachment.

The second pic is the other booklet I found at the stop: very Sixties! Ferlinghetti saying hello to me, I suppose…representing the beat authors in general. Now I muse:

Maybe I should set up a seance table somewhere in the Castro. Perhaps with the Sunday Noe Street artists, whom I look forward to seeing again, in just two days.

A very special NEW anniversary is coming up in my life, good doctor…and really soon. Care to guess what it’s about?

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Another Breakthrough!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 9, 2021 10:34 AM

The dogs have started barking like wild more often as we go up or down the stairs, even without anyone present…mostly because they are either excited to step out or return to my hovel, or because they are announcing their presence. I have been getting them to quiet down, finally, by stopping them two or three times once we’re inside, and affirming with a deep voice: “Keep quiet now! Good doggies.” The treats just don’t work anymore; glad my voice does. At any rate, something REALLY nice occurred this morning:

As we stepped out the front gate for our morning stroll, there was Samuel (chihuahua man) and his two pups (half the size of Flaco & Lucky), on the sidewalk 20 feet away. Of course, my doggies barked up a storm, while the chihuahuas remained calm and silent. I tried pulling the pups towards Noe Street, but they refused to budge…in fact, Flaco escaped her collar and ran up to Samuel’s pooches. She barked and barked, but kept two feet away. I decided at that moment, to let Lucky approach them, as well.

Samuel stood there peacefully, said “It’s alright,” as I placed the collar back on Flaco. Then I handed him some treats, so my pups would quiet down and get to know him. After snatching up the goodies from his open hand, they backed off and resumed their barking, though not quite as vociferous as before. I was able then, to guide them away and in the opposite direction.

I want to note that Samuel seemed very pleased to feed and pet the pups, going by the broad smile on his face. And his chihuahuas seemed not the least bit perturbed by the impromptu meetup. They remained pleasantly blase through it all. Oh, something else:

Yesterday, I saw Flaco pick up another chicken bone, so I got ready to grab onto it, until she’d let go…which is the way it’s been going; she no longer gives any resistance, but allows me to release the bone from her jaws. However, just before I reached out a hand towards her, she dropped the bone and moved on. Amazing!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Special Anniversary Coming Up Soon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 9, 2021 6:37 PM

Like you, Wattson, I’m not one for anniversaries of any sort, not just birthdays. However, I will make one exception, and that’s for something I consider important…sacred, even. And it will soon be the FIRST anniversary of this shining event. I’m leaving you to make one guess, before I reveal it. Plus this hint: I have mentioned the date numerous times to you, and is part of my present story cycle. Moving on now:

Deek picked up the pups a few hours ago. Again, he was congenial, clean in appearance and drama free. The pups were glad to be with him once more, and settled right in by his side. It was a warm, sunny afternoon and they basked in the sun’s rays, which made their brindle coats luminous with a golden aura. I brought him more dog food, and took his devices to charge. He said some clever things in jest…forgot what they were, but the main point is his cheerful demeanor. So I complimented him once more, over how well he’s doing, and how impressed I am.

Around two hours later, he returned to pick up his electronics, and told me the dogs are right around the corner, if I want to see them. He then called to someone from twenty feet away: “The dogs are still there, right?” It was Boulevard Joe, and he said, “Yes!” Apparently, he was watching over them, standing at the corner to see both Deek and the pooches, who were located on 16th Street, behind my building.

As I approached him, I was startled to see how nicely dressed he was: spotlessly clean and glowing! “They’re right there,” he said to me, and pointed to their spot, where they sat calmly on a couple of Deek’s jackets. So I spent a few minutes with them: great joy and sweetness all around, group hugs and kisses and belly rubs abounded…as usual. But I want to mention a bit more about Joe:

He was standing there all spiffed out, like a security guard for a celebrity…as if some honorable occasion was happening, in which he played a significant role. As if my own part in this scenario were of great import. Deek HAD said to me, “There’s Boulevard Joe, if you’d like to talk to him!” Knowing I had mentioned to Deek a few times over the months, how I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but I rarely see him, and when I do, he’s always in a rush.

“Oh, thanks,” I replied, “but I just saw him two nights ago and we had a great conversation.”

I am now purchasing groceries from a corner store OTHER than Morey’s, because they don’t take food stamps, but this one does. It’s in the opposite direction on Noe Street, one block south of Market, where 17th Street intersects. This one’s run by an Arab family, and has been for decades. They are very nice people, and not without a sense of humor. When I stepped up to pay for several items, I said, “I’ll be using my EBT card.”

“Of course you will,” the clerk quipped. I chuckled at that.

I feel bad at having to end my friendly visits at Morey’s, after all the good things that have passed between us. But I can still get sundry goods there, such as dish detergent, toilet paper, Scotch tape and the like. What’s interesting about this OTHER shop, is that is where my now-deceased friend, Carl Betza, used to visit quite frequently, to chat with them, as well as make purchases. He died in October of 2010. I have never gone to that shop since, though have done so once in a blue moon, before his passage. Carl was a long-term friend of both myself and Chuck from Pennsylvania. All three of us lived at 9666 Market, each on a different floor. Sadly, that chapter in my life is long gone. Though I DO converse in my mind with him, quite often…wondering what he’d think of all these changes in the world since he kicked the proverbial bucket. And he DOES tell me, because I have a good idea of what he would say about this pandemic, Donald Trump, Deek and the doggies (he’d LOVE them) and so on.

But let’s see how this shift in my shopping habits will cause some shift in my reality. It’s sort of a big deal for me, since my world is such a small bubble. Anyway, tomorrow is Sunday, thus the street artists will return. I look very much forward to how this second meetup will develop. Miriam is quite the character, and she knows Arwyn very well, it seems! Maybe he’ll even walk by again, like he did last week. I must make a point of actually looking over her paintings, since I neglected to do that last time around. After all, it’s NOT all about me…I’m part of something bigger, and they’re in on it, one way or another.

That’s it for now, but I’m sure I’ll have a passel to report by tomorrow’s eve.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Special Anniversary Coming Up Soon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: October 9, 2021 11:41 PM

> Well….does the anniversary have to do with the pups??

Yes. October 30, 2020 is when I wrote and published chapter 1 of Brindlekin Tales. The eve of All Hallow’s Eve. Look how far I’ve come in such a very short time!

> So good that Boulevard Joe has probably thoroughly absorbed the message about the pups, should something happen to Deek.

Glad you picked up on that, because I did not, until some minutes after sending you that email. I’ve never seen Deek and he working together on anything. Though, as bodhisattvas, I’m sure they’ve actually been closely aligned on many missions. So, in a sense, they set up this little scenario, as their way to let me know I am heard and respected. And to affirm in a subtle way, that my suspicions about a secret society are spot on.

– Zeke K-Holmes

The Final Chapter (part 21)

September 25, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17u]

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: Newspaper in lieu of tarp looks just fine…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 1:32 PM

…as you can see by the enclosed photo. That’ll save me some moolah: four tarps (that I have to replace every time after bug treatment) = $31, newspaper (readily available all over the place) = $00 (and is easier to lay out on the floor, and replace whenever). The throw rugs do a fine job of beautifying my hovel, and hold down the paper sheets better than they did the tarps. The Bay Area Reporter, the most widely circulated LGBT newspaper in the world, has suddenly become even MORE indispensable than ever…right here in the Castro, the Heart of the Heart of Gay Mecca. Huzzah!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Newspaper in lieu of tarp looks just fine…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 4:03 PM

> I think there’s a definite aesthetic to newspapers on the floor! Colorful funny papers would work well, too. Do they even have funny papers any more????

I believe so, but colorful cartoons are not included in any free publication I know of. They’re mostly Sunday comics anyway, and thus a teensy part of the entire publication. IOW not practical. Besides which: these cheap, Amazon throw rugs provide the multi-hued impact my eyeballs so crave. I am content.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin.
To: My Dear Wattson.
Date: September 10, 2021 8:32 PM.

He showed up for his allowance, asked for a razor and more dog food. When he asks for dog food, that means he’s not planning to let the pups visit…and will disappear for three or more days. And then he started talking about getting Flaco pregnant, and collecting $1,500 for the beautiful pups she’ll produce. Said that some people through his SF connections got wind of Flaco, and are looking to mate their own dog with another diminutive one. They’re driving down from up north right now, and he’s arranged to meet them later on tonight.

I tried reasoning with him, told him that’s not love, that’s animal abuse…you can’t raise puppies on the streets, Flaco could die or get very sick, and so could the puppies. He said he has places where she’ll be indoors, why am I making a big deal out of this.

“It’s MY plan, Zeke, not yours.”

“Well it’s a bad plan,” I said, “a horrible idea.”

I then knelt down again, to pet Lucky & Flaco, seeing as they kept dancing around me.

“Why not let the pooches stay with me tonight,” I queried. “It’s been awhile. They love me, and they know I love them, and they love visiting.”

“Well, you’re seeing them now,” was his thoughtless reply. At that point, I had a strong urge to slam him onto the concrete. But I held my tongue, and kept that violent urge under wraps.

After hugging the pooches and enjoying their friendly greets for a few more minutes, I returned hovel to pack up a fresh supply of doggy vittles, and bring him another $60 and a razor. Upon my return, I spoke the following:

“Oh, you’re not gonna do that to her, you just love fucking with my head, you like to make me worry. Here’s the food and your money and the razor…god bless you all, have a beautiful evening.”

And off they went, as I lingered in that spot, watching them grow smaller as the distance increased, until they turned a corner two blocks down Noe Street. Gone. After barely a seven minute visit: gone! Again.

When I spoke against turning Flaco into his own puppy mill, he blurted out how one of his friends is in the hospital because of a fentanyl overdose, and he’s gonna get a leg cut off if he doesn’t come up with the money. Obviously, he made that up right on the spot, as justification to make that sweet little angel pregnant. I told him that, too.

“I don’t wanna hear your phony excuses, Deek. That’s just bullshit. It breaks my heart that you even talk like this.”

“Why would I even make that kinda stuff up?” he retorted, playing the innocent lamb quite poorly.

“I don’t know, but you do, from time to time,” I stated. Then he changed the subject:

“She’s gonna have babies, and you’ll get one of the puppies…you’ll be so happy!”

“No I won’t, I’ll be devastated. I don’t WANT a puppy, I want Flaco & Lucky to stay in my life, they’re my friends! No other dogs can replace them in my heart.”

So many days of misery seem to lie ahead for me, now. Thanks for nothing, Deek! However, knowing how bodhisattvas play a tough game at times, I realize it is my responsibility towards myself, to NOT allow the demons of sorrow, grief and despair best me. He is NOT gonna do any such thing, this is just another bipolar mood swing. Nowhere NEAR as bad as the last one, which was back in January when I took charge of the dogs for a few months, but not without major brouhaha and getting the cops involved.

He as much as admitted his bodhisattva nature several days back, by commending me on my incredible patience, courage and keeping a calm manner during that cycle of altercations with the building manager and Myrtle & son. Of which I’ve told him VERY LITTLE. (So where he got that information is certainly NOT from yours truly.) But what he showed me then, was he knows more about my adventures than he lets on. Indicating that he is, indeed, my spiritual guide, and that this is all scripted…they are acting out roles that make me into the hero of this play they’ve conjured up. THEY ARE ALL IN ON THIS! Deek KNOWS Myrtle and Adisa, the building manager, Dieter, and so on. And I bet he knows Arwyn, too…who, as you know, I accuse of being the AUTHOR of this script that is my life these days.

Plus they (the bodhisattvas) enjoy seeing me act nobly when a crisis erupts, so they toss one in now and then. This evening’s nastiness is just the latest.

I was about to step out to pick up my afternoon java, when Deek showed up. I was already almost at the gate, when he called up to my window. But right at the gate was a fire department medic, so I had to yell through him to get Deek’s attention. Don’t know why the fellow was there, but I’m guessing some medical emergency with Dennis or Dieter. He didn’t say, I just let him in.

Then, when I stepped back out with the dog food, etc., that same medic appeared in the hallway, asked me if we have an in-house manager. I said yes, his name is Kevin Bond, and directed him to his apartment. Figures my bodhisattva devils would throw in this extra curve ball in the middle of my latest conflict with Deek! It’s like all of a sudden, this flurry of crises swirled around me.

Of course I’m sad not to have the dogs over, sad for Flaco, and ANGRY at Deek for throwing this vulgarity in my face. It is my habit to purchase two Mounds candy bars every other night, to enjoy while watching some Alfred Hitchcock episodes, or a horror film or two. It’s become an important symbol of staying positive in the face of gloom or dashed hopes, regardless of all the ups and downs I go through. I ALMOST decided to skip the treat tonight, because of the sorrow Deek just nailed into my heart. But no, I concluded, that’s caving in to the demons. Be of good cheer, get your center back, enjoy the evening regardless, DO NOT WORRY, all shall be fine. Lucky & Flaco shall remain in good spirits and health. Deek is simply screwing with me (again).

That’s it for now, Wattson…wish I had better news to report. Oh, yeah, one more thing: amid all this arguing, he mentioned how there’ll soon be a THIRD dog in his charge.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 4, 2021 11:22 PM

> Oh, God. The fucking, fucking asshole. To even spin a tale about getting Flaco knocked up, selling the puppies, getting a third dog, all of it–he KNEW how it would upset you, but he did it anyway, premeditatively. On purpose, to hurt you. And his “friend” getting a leg amputated because of a Fentanyl overdose? Pure baloney. Never heard of an overdose-related amputation. A Fentanyl overdose means you’re dead, period.

He’s having a bipolar attack, though a mild one thank god. He’ll get over it soon enough.

> He’s mean, and he’s a liar.

His meanness and lying are part of his bipolar swing. Most of the time he’s NOT like that…as clearly evidenced by sharing the pups with me, among many other examples. He’s mostly stabilized at this point. He’s been growing out of it in leaps and bounds; this is a temporary setback. What is so extraordinary, is something he said several days back, that I meant to tell you in my last missive. But here it is now:

He so much as admitted his out-of-control mood swing in January (which included screaming about giving up the pups) was WRONG. He couched this confession in describing how he defended me to his street friends, told them something like:

“Look, Zeke felt he was doing what’s best for the dogs in taking them over for awhile. He’s my uncle and a good friend, so I give him that patience in return.”

At least, this is what he told me when his “friends” recently questioned why he still trusts someone who tried to “steal” the dogs. He wasn’t quite ready to admit to them that HE was wrong, and that I didn’t steal them…but he made an important step in the right direction. I just listened, didn’t respond at all, though was sorely tempted to say:

“You were talkin’ crazy, ranting like a wild man about giving up the pups. Your crazy behavior made me fear for the dogs’ well-being. You scared the shit out of me, so I took them to protect them from YOU! And keep them FOR you. You AGREED to that!”

Because I already TOLD him precisely that, some months back, and saw no point in repeating it. He knows.

> How I wish you could get the dogs from him and evict him from your life.

That’s impossible, so I don’t even dwell on it. If such an opportunity occurs, I’ll consider that a miracle. He WILL come to his senses, shortly. I guess my bodhisattva authors decided another cliffhanger this late in the trilogy would get my readers back on the edge of their seats…a final climax before the happy outcome unfolds.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Deek’s Shitty Meetup This Evening
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 11, 2021 2:08 PM

> I know, I know: but I’m expressing how it makes me feel when he pulls this crap.

I feel the same way, too, Wattson. But daydreaming about running away with the pups gets me nowhere.

> I’ve dealt with many a mentally ill person in my life, including bipolars, as well as other “disorders,” and I’m always disturbed by the mean, destructive elements in their personalities that get turned loose when conditions are just so. Knowing that it’s an irresistible compulsion doesn’t make it any easier for the target of these fits to endure.

I think a huge proportion of humanity is “bipolar,” just look at the Trumpturds, neo-Nazis and Christo-fascists all over the place! Yes, it hurts having to humor them, and sweating through worry over a potential tragedy they may cause. But I can’t even afford to allow myself THAT angst, as it just gets in the way. The only REAL answer is to find a way to stay centered, and trust the fates. NEVER allow such insane conflicts to destroy your ability to find happiness, and spread it to others. Self-fulfillment, or at least parts thereof, should not always remain somewhere in the future, like the proverbial, elusive butterfly.

> Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty horrific psychological abuse,

Oh, I believe you, good doctor. Your kind advice and words of wisdom reflect that very well.

> and there’s a certain glee in the perps’ eyes and demeanor. “I can’t help doing this, so it’s not my fault.” Maybe so.

I question THAT assumption, as I think many bipolar people do NOT think that way…IOW, they really can’t help themselves. Deek certainly fits that category. He has NEVER pulled that game on me.

> But the fact that they harbor such shitty cruelty within is deeply troubling.

It is the kind of family and community he grew up in; in fact the kind of SOCIETY he grew up in. Yet he possesses incredible saving graces. Which are now blossoming. It is therefore my own responsibility to rise above the miasma for my own well being, as well as for his…AND MOST IMPORTANTLY FOR THE SAKE OF THE DOGGIES.

The pups are my anchor, the light that guides my path. And that is what makes the entire situation so incredible and inspiring. I KNOW I am on my Hero’s Quest, so of course scary challenges pop up now and then. I should neither be surprised over that, nor cave in to nihilism. We will see what goes down, next time Deek shows up. I’m sure it will be a MUCH better meetup.

And I certainly couldn’t have gotten through all these horrendous conflicts without YOU cheering me on, old chap! And ONE major reason why I remain strong through my present dilemma.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: The hint was there, six days before.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 11, 2021 7:10 PM

In my speaking about the bodhisattva nature in their context as guardians and teachers, I’ve mentioned several times, that they ALWAYS drop a clue either some time before, or some time after, they manifest a conflict in your world. The clue being something that gives you a spark of hope, or that lightens the blow…or in some other way suggests you’re being tested, and that what appears an imminent tragedy will NOT turn out that way at all. A clue which they plant in your mind like a seed, that will sprout at just the right moment. But until then, it remains a subtle, nascent twinge that you’ll barely notice.

In this recent conflict over Deek claiming he’s going to make Flaco pregnant, six days earlier he threw a tremendous compliment in my direction. Not that it stood out like a beacon, blinding me to everything else, at that moment. It was a sentence he softly slipped into our conversation (about how well I handled a string of conflicts in my building, earlier this year) that he knew would sink in later. And so it did. Though at the time I let it flow by and get swallowed up in the larger flood of conversation. I’ve already mentioned his unexpected praise to you, but that was yet beFORE he pulled the rug from under my feet.

It struck me just this morning, that he had planned to throw me for another loop soon, so dropped me a positive hint some days prior, knowing it would well up in my mind as a comforting counterbalance TO the shock. And so it did, only a day later. But between then and now, I made a point of sweeping away any negative scenario that popped in my head, by counting my blessings. Including how much incredible support Morey has given me over many months, regarding the pups and my difficult dealings with their master. As has Dieter, and, of course, YOU, Wattson! So I made this my time to recoup my forces, lick my wounds, and rise above my latest descent into Abaddon.

In fact, I visited Morey a short while ago, to pick up my two Mounds bars, and he suddenly blurted:

“Something really weird happened to me today!”

Of course I said, “Oh, and what was that?”

He then went on about how this young fellow, well dressed and with an expensive dog on a leash, stepped into the shop and asked Morey for fifty cents to finish his laundry, and he would reimburse him later that day. He left his debit card at home, or something like that. But Morey was put off by this strange encounter…he never saw him before, and it certainly wasn’t any kind of emergency. So he just replied:

“Sorry, I do not loan money out.”

I told him that WAS strange, and it doesn’t make any sense.

“And he had a Pomeranian,” he emphasized, “that’s an expensive dog!”

I didn’t challenge him on that, even though I thought, well, it COULD’ve been a rescue dog. My point being that, it was very nice of him to share one of his own funny incidents with me, after my doing same so many times! I would’ve given the stranger two quarters and be done with it, were I in his shoes. However, it’s HIS shop, and he went by sound intuition.

Upon departing, I deliberated further on so many GOOD things having come my way, as a result of Deek bringing Lucky & Flaco into my life. (A very GENEROUS and KIND act on anyone’s part, I’d say…let alone from someone living on the street without a penny to his name.) Then I reminded myself how important it is to be patient and kind no matter what, and that the universe always makes up for any seeming misfortune, one way or another.

No sooner had that thought arisen in my psyche, than I looked down to discover a crumpled bill by my left foot! I didn’t snatch it up immediately, but wondered if it was more than a dollar…say, five or even ten. Upon unfolding it, to my surprise, it turned out to be a twenty!

Not than money in any amount could ever make up for thoughtless abuse of my beloved brindlekin, or other heartbreak…but I took it as a bit of cheerful kindness by my bodhisattva guardians. And a reassurance that my fears are illusory.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: The hint was there, six days before.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 12, 2021 7:36 PM

> A nice little gift of $$ from the universe!

The right place, the right time.

> Something a lot like that happened to me. Attached is a piece I wrote a few years back, a letter to a friend.

Love the tale…shot with adrenaline throughout, I was on the edge of my seat through the whole thing. Almost down to the dollar, exactly the price for one, cheap motel room. With a Pakistani running it…so, I dunno…stereotypically expected for Los Angeles’ vast, outlying regions? How everything fell into place for you and Erwyn, like a funky old Victorian steam engine that worked, but barely. Just crankin’ along, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go. Eventually gets the job done, but not without some blood, sweat and tears. How things went, before electricity.

> And tomorrow, I’ll tell you about further developments in the magic cat-calling incantation dep’t.

I trust you didn’t summon Yog Sothoth! Or use a monkey’s paw! Can’t wait to get the update…I’ll lose sleep tonight, anticipating.

I’m in the middle of watching a thriller, “Frailty,” that came out in 2002. A father becomes a murderer because he thinks angels gave him these instructions…and forces his two sons to participate. The younger son becomes a mass murderer as a result. Stars Matthew McConaughey and Bill Paxton.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 13, 2021 10:34 PM

After all these years! Don’t miss my reply to her!

Click here for a larger view.

Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 1:17 PM

> Sweet!!

And it couldn’t have come at a better time, in light of my present anxiety over Deek’s pups. Another bodhisattva clue to boost my faith? Of course! What makes it so striking, is its spiritual aspect, in that Snackboy is long dead, yet his spirit came forth just at the moment such support is most relevant and appreciated. For my memorializing him on the web, and preserving his remarkable, pre-Youtube videos…he just returned the favor!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Snackboy: click here to watch his videos.

Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 5:15 PM

> On 9/14/2021 1:17 PM, Ezekiel Krahlin wrote:
>> he just returned the favor!
> Indeed he did!!
> Meant to tell you the rest of the magic cat incantation saga. Couldn’t get to it yesterday.

Oh, I was on tenterhooks waiting to hear about it.

> So: A few days ago, we had some out-of-town visitors. They showed up with their dog, a rescue who’d led a sad life chained in a yard for years and years. I was a teensy bit put out, because this is, after all, a kitty sanctuary and general temple of cat worship, and these people knew that, but they didn’t mention that they were bringing a dog, and when they arrived, they just sort of let the dog, Midnight, loose in the yard. He and Surely made friends quickly, as dogs do, though it wasn’t that instant passion you sometimes see when dogs meet and sample one another’s pheromones. But they got along fine. But you never know how a dog is going to be around cats. It can be very tricky. The orange kitten, a bold and confidant creature, touched noses with the dog, she on the steps and he below so they were face to face. The kitten fluffed up a little, but was not overly perturbed and held her ground, and Midnight behaved. All seemed to be well, so I relaxed. Though I did have to lay down the law when they brought Midnight into the house. I explained that our other cat, Ernie, is nowhere near the cool customer the kitten is, and if he popped through his cat door and encountered a strange dog in his house, he’d totally freak out, and he’d recently disappeared for 36 hours and I didn’t want it to happen again. They complied, and put Midnight outside.
> About an hour later, we heard a sharp bark; one of our human guests stepped out just in time to see Midnight lunging at the kitten, who streaked away, fast as a bullet. They got Midnight under control, and put him in their car (in the shade, of course) to keep him out of further trouble. Meanwhile, we couldn’t find the kitten. She’s deaf, so calling is useless. She’d been seen streaking toward the front gate, but then everyone’s attention was on the dog, so no one saw where she actually went.
> For the next hour, we fanned out, looking for her. Erwyn and I were plunged into despair; as Erwyn said to one of the guests: “We’d rather have the house burn down than lose that cat.” We were all grim and silent, thinking our private thoughts. Mine ran along the lines of: If that kitten is gone, you people are on my shit list forever and ever. I didn’t blame Midnight; I’m definitely of the school of thought that there are no bad dogs (well, maybe a few), just bad owners.
> I stood in the yard, and the thought occurred to me: Maybe it’s time for a repeat of that incantation. I got my memory into gear, and was reconstructing the sequence of words in my mind, when PLOP! The kitten dropped down out of a tree onto a lower branch, about ten feet away from me.

I’ll just skip making any remarks about the thoughtlessness of your guests, how they made the cat disappear again, and say:

Well that was INCREDIBLE! I don’t believe in spell casting, prayers or meditation, except as an aid in calming oneself down, and focusing on what’s important. However, they sometimes DO seem to work, but I don’t write it off to synchonicity. It’s more like our bodhisattva guardians have a sweet nature, and a sense of humor. So sometimes they’ll play it that way.

I also think those who are gifted with spiritual abilities, CAN successfully use tarot cards, crystal balls, or whatever. But ONLY as a tool for focus, for the power always resides in the heart, and not in any object. We CAN impart meaning into objects, even those that are otherwise mundane. Such as a coffee mug left behind by a dearly departed one…it has REAL value to you, thanks to the loving hands that once caressed it so many times.

Then, maybe, something could happen TO or AROUND it, that directly relates to the now deceased person…whereas there’d be no significance of said event occurring to, or around, any other item. For example, maybe his or her special pen shows up in that particular mug one day. You’d rightfully take that as a sign that he or she is communicating to you; they they’re alright, their spirit is with you. How the pen got there may not be unusual, as perhaps a visitor picked it up in another part of the house, and later plunked it into the mug, without you being present, and without knowing the importance of either the mug or the pen, TO you. The guest departs and later that evening, you notice the pen in the cup.

In sum, I do NOT believe any incantation or prayer is necessary for a heartfelt wish to be answered. The cat would’ve shown up both times, regardless. It’s just that bodhisattvas love to put some magic in our lives, now and then. And they ARE quite mischievous. We’re like children, to them…albeit most beloved. They already know existence IS magic, just not in the superficial way some people take it.

I advise you, though, to never again allow a guest with a dog, free rein of your place, including outside. I’m sure your visitors ruined their welcome.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A beautiful comment to one of my Snackboy videos just showed up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 14, 2021 7:07 PM

> Neither do I. But these precise, sharp-as-a scalpel coincidences do get a person’s attention. That these coincidences occur in our huge, sloppy universe is the point here, and indicate that what we might think of as “magic” is simply the manifestation of hidden empirical processes…

That’s how I see it, too, Wattson. I have this theory that certain properties of reality are intentionally hidden from us, until we have reached a certain point of knowledge, awareness and/or experience. Both on a personal level, and on a species level. Regarding the personal, there is obviously a diverse range of awareness. In a way, I think that the phony enlightened ones (spellcasters, exorcists and the like) play an important role in shielding higher awareness from those who are not ready to deal with it. They get sucked into a trap.

And that, I believe, is why so many sages throughout the ages have stated that our lives are illusions…they don’t mean it metaphorically, but literally. Life is actually a two-level affair…rather poetic in the interplay. Each person’s life is a string of parables, one after the other after the other, and one within another, within another.

There IS a secret society of sorts, of more advanced humans…though nothing you’d find in the conventional scheme of things. I have suggested as such in “Free Me From This Bond.” And if my conjecture is correct, these are incredibly loving and humorous folks, whom I whimsically call “our reptilian overlords.”

Well, I’ve already covered much ground on these “spiritual” matters in my Brindlekin Tales…so I’ll stop here, as I would just be repeating my conclusions, along with my analyses.

> Nope. I usually don’t, but made an exception.

Great, glad to know that…I have enough to worry about. :)

Our pets are not just pets (“dumb animals” like some believe) but our guardians and soulmates. Our lifeline to Avalon, so to speak.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: More Grievous Behavior from Deek!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 17, 2021 9:17 AM

Everything seemed to be going just dandy, when he returned to pick up the pups…he thanked me for everything I do, and I thanked him for his kindness in sharing them with me. I made it clear he’s already burned through his entire allowance for the month, and will have to wait two weeks for it to resume. He was fine with that. (Though I did add I’ll try to muster up another $60, but he’ll have to wait a week before I can do that, if at all…no promises.)

I reminded him that doesn’t mean I won’t have dog food for him at any time he needs it, and that whenever he wants a break from the doggies (whether for just an hour or two, or longer), he can still drop them off. IOW: I emphasized to not let lack of allowance be an excuse to not pick up more food, or have them visit me. He was fine with that, too. We’ll see; I do have my doubts he’ll abide without squawking, before this month is over. Or that he’ll probably not have the pups stay with me, if money isn’t involved.

After that brief but friendly meetup, I wished them all a very good night, and, since I was already outdoors, decided to take my nightly stroll up Noe Street, to Duboce Park and back. He was still there when I returned, though wrapping things up to go. So I approached, and chatted a bit more, being in the good mood I was. I remarked at how well Flaco and Lucky have adapted to being indoors, that they no longer get upset when it’s not a time to visit me, though dropping by outside (for Deek to pick up more food, or receive some cash).

He then erupted, said, “Why do you call her Flaco? Her name is LA Flaco, she’s a female.”

I told him that was the first I heard him call her that, he’s always addressed her as “Flaco,” never “La Flaco”…and besides, in Spanish her name should end in an A, not an O, as in “La Flaca.” He then griped how I always ruin a nice visit by saying stupid stuff, he’s always called her “La Flaco,” what’s wrong with me?

With that, he turned on his recharged speaker, with the volume just loud enough to block my voice. So I pressed the off button, which perturbed him as well, and declared, “I’m talking to you, Deek, please respect that.”

Suddenly the doggies barked up a storm at a dog passing by, pulled on their leashes attached to a bicycle flung loosely atop a pile of junk in his cart, and it began to slide off. But I grabbed onto it, so it wouldn’t crash to the sidewalk and possibly injure the pups.

He yelled at them: “Lucky! Flaco! Stop it!”

“You just called her Flaco, Deek,” I remarked, then admonished, “Please don’t yell at them, there’s no need to.”

At any rate, I said I hope they have a lovely night, then quickly departed hovel. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized he needs to be admonished for tying the dogs up like that. I’ve seen his bike come crashing to the ground more than once, and the doggies quickly pulled away as far as their leashes would allow. This could injure them, even break their necks!

So, not feeling very good after his fucked-up behavior. He always manages to pull some NEW ugly trick out of his hat, to keep the misery flowing! Realizing as well, that he’ll continue to tether them to whatever bicycle he has at the moment, no matter what I say. Just as he’s never stopped forcing them to lie directly down on, or even sleep on, the filthy concrete…even though there’s plenty of clean cardboard available on just about every block in the city.

I am hoping, of course, this is a temporary setback in his behavior…the tail end of his latest mood swing, that is actually MILD compared to his last one in January. So it’s really NOT fair of me to claim he ALWAYS manages to inject misery in my life, as it’s been a rather long spell free of anxiety. Hopefully, last night’s outburst is just a momentary glitch.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: More Grievous Behavior from Deek!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 17, 2021 4:00 PM

> I get it. But I hate the way he treats you. It’s downright abusive.

Nothing compared to what so many other people are going through. The pups come first, I’ll deal with whatever else is hurled at me, by Deek or anyone else for that matter. Look at the shit I’ve already been through, all because of these angels…the nicest thing to ever happen to me. You’d think I’m some knight on a quest for the Holy Grail, and found it…so now the demons swoop down on me in their attempts to thwart my almost-completed holy mission. These are just two little doggies, and I’m an old man on Social Security, living in an SRO! Change of topic:

In speaking with Dieter yesterday, as he slowly struggled up the stairs with that portable wheelchair, he mentioned all the setbacks he’s gone through in the recent past. Not just the VA dragging its feet to get him a place at that Veterans home in Vacaville, but their turning him down for full knee surgery plus some other crises. Including the bedbugs, which he said forced him to get rid of most of his possessions. He was gonna fix up his room (paint the walls and so forth) but all these setbacks have wiped him out, both financially and emotionally.

What struck me most was his getting rid of his possessions! I haven’t been required to do that; they just treat the whole room as it is! Don’t know whether to mention that to him or not, seeing as that could get me embroiled again with the building manager. With whom he’s friends, AFAIK. And another thing that just came up:

As I entered the building after returning from the laundromat with another load to heat treat (just one more to go in this cycle; I put off the last two loads for a week), a repairman was on the phone to his office, remarking how he’s not gonna even touch the box, it’s screwed up! He was referring to the electronic security system’s circuit box nailed into the lobby wall. It’s all digital, and keeps tabs on the hallway sprinklers, the smoke alarms and the elevator doors.

I paused halfway up the stairs to eavesdrop, and it seems that installing the new elevator disrupted the safety circuitry, and nothing can be done to secure it again, until PG&E shows up to finish the job. Which won’t be till some time next month, at the earliest! I could be wrong about this, but that’s what I think is going on. The electrician was obviously frustrated. I don’t know, maybe he WAS from PG&E…or perhaps the company that sold the box to Ablahblah Realty. Anyway, I ran upstairs to fetch my spy pen, and recorded a snippet of the conversation. Annoyingly, a resident coming down the stairs interrupted my eavesdropping, so I had to end it. Here is what I got (just 36 seconds, can’t really discern much, except that something’s wrong).

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: The Hero’s Journey Is My Own
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 20, 2021 1:26 PM

Just a quick rundown, based on Joseph Campbell’s findings. My own comments are contained with square brackets. From URL:


Campbell describes 17 stages of the monomyth. Not all monomyths necessarily contain all 17 stages explicitly; some myths may focus on only one of the stages, while others may deal with the stages in a somewhat different order. In the terminology of Claude Lévi-Strauss, the stages are the individual mythemes which are “bundled” or assembled into the structure of the monomyth.

The 17 stages may be organized in a number of ways, including division into three “acts” or sections:

1. Departure (also Separation),
2. Initiation (sometimes subdivided into A. Descent and B. Initiation) and
3. Return.

In the departure part of the narrative, the hero or protagonist lives in the ordinary world and receives a call to go on an adventure. The hero is reluctant to follow the call but is helped by a mentor figure.

[My call was meeting Deek’s newly adopted dog, Lucky, which call I resisted for some time, but decided to accept…thus resumed our broken friendship, for the sake of the pup. My mentor figure is YOU, Wattson. This journey began around two years back.]

The initiation section begins with the hero then traversing the threshold to an unknown or “special world”, where he faces tasks or trials, either alone or with the assistance of helpers.

[This special world is Deek’s own world, which twisted paths and numerous obstacles I’ve learned to traverse. But not without much trepidation and grief…though the central, and major, influence is the brilliant love and friendship of first one, then two, doggies. Helpers have popped up now and then, from the most unexpected places and timing. Needless to say, there is a strong, supernatural aspect to entering this “special” world.]

The hero eventually reaches “the innermost cave” or the central crisis of his adventure, where he must undergo “the ordeal” where he overcomes the main obstacle or enemy, undergoing “apotheosis” and gaining his reward (a treasure or “elixir”).

[I believe I have just reached that crescendo, which has yet to peak, but will, very soon. My reward, of course, is the salvation of all three: the two dogs as well as Deek. Who plays the terrifying dragon of this innermost cave…whom I must befriend, not slay…I must win his complete trust.]

The hero must then return to the ordinary world with his reward. He may be pursued by the guardians of the special world, or he may be reluctant to return and maybe rescued or forced to return by intervention from the outside.

[How this end part will play out, remains to be seen. But I think it will be a rather smooth transition, because joyful.]

In the return section, the hero again traverses the threshold between the worlds, returning to the ordinary world with the treasure or elixir he gained, which he may now use for the benefit of his fellow man. The hero himself is transformed by the adventure and gains wisdom or spiritual power over both worlds.

[I benefit my fellow man by sharing my Brindlekin Tales…my very own, remarkable hero’s journey.]


Subject: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 20, 2021 8:20 PM

Early this afternoon I looked out the window to see a black and white van parked out front, with large block letters painted on the side: “San Francisco Medical Examiner.” I assumed it was Dennis…which was affirmed a little while later when I stepped into the hallway and overheard the medics speaking from the next flight up. Dennis’s apartment is right next to the top of those stairs leading from the second to the third floor.

Shortly after that, I stepped out to stroll along Noe Street, and seated myself on one of those concrete stools two block up, where trees overhang, and provide some cool shade; it was a short-sleeve day, almost hot. Along comes Arwyn some moments later, across the street and heading towards the Castro. I know he saw me. Interesting that I only saw a week prior, crossing Church & 15th Streets on my way to pick up another loaf of raisin bread.

He’s THE most important character in my hero’s journey (in a greater arc of time and adventures), so I guess he’s preparing to reenter my world, by first appearing before me for short moments, more and more frequently. He’s not without a sense of humor.

I’m expecting Deek and pups to show up again, come tomorrow or Wednesday…the day I said I’ll have another $60 to hand him. Though he JUST might show up early tonight.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 11:54 AM

> Jeez. I wonder who discovered the body.

From what I overheard in the hallway, it was a friend who discovered him. But I think all who knew him were prepared well in advance, in light of his decline the past few months. I really know nothing about him, he’s always kept to himself. Moved into this building in 1997.

> The plot thickens!

Like a slow-growing mold, and twice as boring.

> Here’s hoping.

It’s an agony and an ecstasy. No way around that; the only solution is to accept the situation as it is…grow stronger, stay balanced…do not collapse into grief, anger or nihilism. Do NOT worry. All easier said than done.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Dennis Has Died
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 1:37 PM

I just encountered Dieter on the stairs, as we were both stepping out. Told him that Dennis just passed on. “Dennis?” he queried, not sure who I meant. So I added, “Dennis Simms.” He then knew who I meant, and said that’s a shame.

“At least he died in peace, with little pain…and in his own home.”

“Yes that’s true,” he remarked. He then informed that Dennis was the winner of the Bare Chest Calendar contest some years back. Which must’ve been decades ago, as you’d never know it by his appearance since he took up residency here back in ’97.

Anyway, once we got down to the lobby, I pointed out the sign by the elevator, about his death. Which he would not have otherwise noticed until his return, since his bad knees do not inspire him to turn around 180 degrees unless urgent. He can’t even walk without using his folding, portable wheelchair for support.

Dieter also told me the good news, that the Veterans Home in Yountville will soon have a room for him, in the new wing they recently built. So that’ll be in three or four months, that he’ll depart from 9666 Market Street.

“So, another long term resident leaving our distinguished manor!” I exclaimed.

“Yes!” he quipped, “they’re getting rid of us all!”

We then wished each other a good day as I held the gate open for him, while standing in the blazing beams of the early afternoon sun. Second uncomfortably hot day in a row, here in San Franshit sco.

“The pups will love hanging out here, with my fan turned on,” I thought, as I slogged my way up Noe Street to make a few mundane purchases. “Once they show up.”

Click here for a larger view.

Re: The Hero’s Journey Is My Own
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 21, 2021 6:41 PM

> This is fascinating, and provides a highly useful lens through which one can view one’s travails. I’m looking at my own trials in a Campbell-ian way after reading this.

It’s based on, and an extension of, Carl Jung’s theory of archetypes. They go hand in hand. As you know, Campbell is Jung’s greatest disciple. The hero is one of the major archetypes.

Jung’s teaching of archetypes, including the shadow self, pretty much bailed me out of a chaotic mindset and saved my sanity. Everything clicked in for me, once I exposed myself to this theory. And Campbell is frosting on the cake.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Another Showdown with Deek Coming Up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 12:54 AM

Much as I wish it didn’t have to be this way, I have already begun admonishing him on certain matters, because my conscience calls me to it. Even though he’ll probably threaten to take himself and the dogs away from my world. This is what makes him a very scary fellow…to hold the pups over my head as a strategy to keep me too afraid to speak out. But my speaking out has already begun, as of tonight.

After I brought the pups to him, he decided to linger at the ATM alcove right below my window, for a couple of hours. Fine with me, as he was quiet…however, it weirds me out when he camps right outside, after we say our farewells for the evening. IOW he’s still there, but I’m not welcome! Well, his loitering nearby is not really the issue, but I sensed something was up.

Around 11 PM I decided to step out for some air and a short walk, before hitting the hay. I assumed Deek had departed some while ago, but no, there he was sitting with the pups by the ATMs. Flaco & Lucky, once more, were forced to lie down on the dirty sidewalk. I actually tried to slip away towards Noe Street, hoping the pups wouldn’t spot me…but Flaco began her little barks, to demand I come back and say hello.

So I did just that, which is when Deek asked me for a cup of hot tea and a razor. I told him okay, but I thought we already said our goodbyes earlier, and I’m really not ready to wait on him some more. He said never mind, but I waved it away, said no, I’ll make you some tea. So several minutes later I returned with his cherry-berry tea and a razor.

There were several other people hanging about the ATMs, with one actually withdrawing some money. They were NOT homeless, but a friendly and gentle little gathering. Anyway, I noticed what appeared to be a black leather sheath about a foot long, sticking out from under one of Deek’s legs. “Is that a machete?” I thought. So I pointed at it, and said:

“Is that a knife, Deek?”

He seemed distraught that I should bring it up, and slid it entirely under his leg. I reached down as if to pull it back out (not really intending to, but to work his nerves a bit), but he blocked access with a hand.

“No, there’s nothing in it, it’s empty.” He remarked.

“You’ve told me more than once over the years, that you never carry a knife,” I persisted. “Why do you have one now?”

“I don’t, it’s empty.” He seemed nervous that the folks hanging around us might overhear.

“Well, I’m curious anyway, let me see it.” Of course he refused, because I’m sure there really WAS a knife there.

So I dropped the subject, and pet the pups for a few moments, then told him that my $215 monthly food stamp allotment is temporary, it will only last so many months, because it’s just a boost during this pandemic. But by the time I’m back to a measly $19 a month, I hope I’ll come up with some other way to still give him an extra $40 per week. Then I brought up the cardboard:

“It breaks my heart, Deek, that you don’t love and respect these doggies enough to make sure they don’t have to rest on the filthy concrete. How do you think Flaco got that gum in her lovely fur?”

“I have no idea,” he replied.

“Well, the sidewalk is dirty, they get that crap in their fur, and lick it later on. It’s so easy to find clean cardboard no matter where you are.”

He continued to brush me off. Neither of us raised our voices through this, BTW…it was a “soft” argument, I suppose.

“You should also keep your bike tethered to the shopping cart, so it doesn’t slip.”

“What bike?” he asked (as if he didn’t know what I was talking about, the snarky punk).

“When you HAVE a bike, I mean. I’ve seen it come crashing down many times, and almost hit your dogs. Bikes are heavy enough to injure them, if they land on their little bodies.”

“Oh, okay, I hear ya. I’ll tie down the bike from now on.” But I did not find his agreement so reassuring, as just a wish to brush me off.

“Well, Deek,” I embellished, “It breaks my heart that I even have to tell you these things! I don’t understand why you don’t already cherish them enough…that you force me into a situation where I have to bring this up in the first place.”

“Alright, whatever, those are good suggestions, I’ll follow up for now on,” he replied in a rather insincere tone.

Then the conversation went to the pregnancy issue:

“I’ve bred pit bulls for twenty years, I know what I’m doing! I raised seven in one litter, and the money I got for them helped me keep a roof over my head.”

I told him I don’t believe any of that, and that any professional breeder would tell you how dangerous it is to breed a dog while you’re living on the streets. And that Flaco is a sweet little dog who should NEVER be turned into a puppy mill. And how badly your even suggesting you will, breaks my heart. She could easily die from your foolishness. What would you do in an emergency, if a pup gets stuck? You’ll need a vet on hand, and you just can’t afford that.

Then he ranted on how Flaco already gave birth to pups TWICE before he adopted her…and that she’s actually almost six years old now. I told him now that’s a lie…she’s barely three, and when you got her, she was barely six months old, she couldn’t possibly have gotten pregnant. Her nipples were perfectly flat.

He continued to talk smack, while preparing to leave. Told me to stop worrying about everything. I told him I’m not worried, that’s not the issue…I’m trying to keep you from heading down a dark path.

Before parting ways, I told him I’m not gonna bring him tea or a razor any more, until he makes sure they have some cardboard to rest on every night, if not something more cozy. After he left, I strolled about and thought some more on this:

No, I’m not gonna give him that extra $40/week so long as he doesn’t promise me he won’t get her pregnant, and so long as he continues to not use cardboard, and not lash his bike securely onto the cart. What this will lead to, I don’t know…but I’m hoping it will nip this crap in the bud, and that he’ll continue to bring the pups over. Though he just might walk away for good. But I can NOT smother my conscience in this serious matter.

I can NOT let fear of the pups disappearing from my life, block me from saying what he NEEDS to hear. He promised me around five months ago, that so long as he was homeless, he would not get Flaco pregnant.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Another Showdown with Deek Coming Up!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 1:52 PM

> He’s canny, devious and slippery.

In a rather amateurish way. We’ve had serious confrontations before, and he’s always backed off and followed through with my suggestions…eventually.

> You’re right to be firm, but it’s a nerve-wracking balancing act on a high, high tightrope.

It’s terrible, Wattson. He sucks the happiness from anyone around him. Soon as you overcome his latest BS, he tosses you another left curve. I love the little angels with all my heart, yet the Sword of Damocles dangles over my head on a thin string.

> Your own well being is top priority, for obvious reasons, plus you are the doggies’ only advocate in this world.

I’m well aware of that, I will not let his devious nature get the better of me, health-wise or in any other way. From the bodhisattva perspective, he is challenging me not to allow fear to rule my roost. I would LOSE if I kept my mouth shut about the pregnancy issue, along with forcing them to lie down on concrete, and not lashing down his bike. I have already spoken out on all three, so the Dragon of Fear has been slain.

I will continue to emphasize these points, whenever it seems necessary…withOUT anger. For one, I will remind him that starting a puppy mill on the streets is a serious crime, someone will report him, and the dogs will be taken away…he’ll go to jail for quite a long time. Or if he DOES get away with it, he’ll be stuck with the pups, no one will purchase them, he can’t afford to feed them all, they’ll most likely die, and so might Flaco.

Before I give him the extra $40/week, he’ll need to promise (again) that he won’t get Flaco pregnant, so long as he’s living on the streets…as well as provide them cushioning from the sidewalks, and lash that damn bike down.

Jesus fukkin christ!

Anyway, I used my EBT card for the first time, at a local health food store…all went well. Morey’s shop does NOT take food stamps, and I feel awful having to take my business elsewhere, for the most part. I’ll still buy dry goods there.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 8:31 PM

He was hanging with two other vagrants behind my building. So I told him my concerns about Deek’s intention to turn Flaco into a puppy mill. He agreed that it’s a crime, and it could easily turn into a tragedy. But he added that Deek has never brought this up to him.

I also told him about the pups being forced to sleep on the concrete, and putting their lives in harm’s way by not lashing down his bike. Joe did NOT offer to talk to Deek about this, however I pointed out that others need to address the issue besides myself. It’s called peer pressure.

At any rate, he listened well, though I don’t know if it will go anywhere that would give Deek serious thought. And, dammit, I FORGOT to tell him the most important thing of all: that if anything should happen to Deek where he’s separated from the pups (such as a sudden arrest or hospitalization), the doggies should not be left stranded or adopted by anyone on the streets, but be brought to me ASAP…they have safe haven with me. Artemis only knows when I’ll have that chance again! It’s been several months since I last spoke with him.

Ironically, Deek’s cousin Dominic was there, crouched against a wall and wrapped in a blanket. His bare feet stuck out, and one toe looked badly infected. I just nodded at him, as I didn’t want to get sucked into HIS drama, which he does all the time, even worse than Deek!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 23, 2021 10:03 PM

> I think you’ll get another chance to talk to Hollywood.

I sure hope so, but he said some disappointing things today, such as “the dogs seem to be happy with Deek.” As if that means it’s okay to allow his bike to keep slipping off the cart, or sleep on the dirty, cold sidewalk, or turn a sweet little doggy into a puppy mill.

> Deek has a cousin on the scene??? Oy!

I’ve mentioned him many times in past posts…though that was mostly in my earlier tales, including pre-Brindlekin. He also has some OTHER relation (which I didn’t know about) whom I ran into last year, and asked what I’m doing with his dogs. I mentioned that to you, also…said he’s Deek’s brother…the resemblance was uncanny. Never saw him again, except for that one time. San Frinshitsco is the kind of place where creepy people will suddenly show up out of nowhere, and get right up in your face. Scumbags you’ve never SEEN before, let alone even heard about.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: I just realized I miscalculated when I told Deek I’m gonna give him an extra $40/week, in the same breath I told him I can give him another $100/month. It should be $25/week. So I inadvertently set myself up for him to snarl at me for aNOTHER foolish reason.

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 12:04 AM

During my meetup with Boulevard Joe, I glimpsed atop a scattered pile of possessions by his feet, a rather LARGE knife, the blade multi-notched on one side. It was slightly curved like a machete, of burnished silver, shiny new in appearance, and with a thick, short handle of lacquered wood or dense plastic. And then it struck me: that blade would fit perfectly into the scabbard Deek had with him last night, which he claimed was empty. I did NOT ask Joe about it, nor even let him think I noticed the pretentious shank. It looked very much like this:

Click here for a larger view.

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 12:52 PM

> Kinda ominous, nyet?

Oh I’m sure he just uses it to pick his teeth and shave his balls.

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 1:30 PM

> In that order, j’espaire…

Votre espoir est écrasé…judging by his breath, I think not.

Re: I finally got to speak with Boulevard Joe, w/o Deek present! ADDENDUM
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 24, 2021 11:04 PM

Boulevard Joe seems to have an idiotic penchant for large blades. A couple years back, a cop shot a rubber bullet into his hand, for brandishing a sword while galumphing down Market Street, and being ordered by said cop to put it down (though he didn’t, hence bravely suffered the predictable consequence). But the resultant wound made him eligible to get a hotel room for an indefinite period of time…so that worked out nicely. Joe seems to believe it’s his constitutional right to bear a knife…but I don’t think he quite grasps that waving it around and causing alarm in his vicinity is NOT part of that right. But the length of the blade IS not legal if beyond two inches in length or so, here in the city. Quote:

“California Fixed Blade Knife Laws Pocket knives under 2 inches are generally legal without any restrictions. Other types of fixed blade knives like Dirks and Daggers are heavily restricted with regards to where and how they can be carried, but both types are still legal to own.”

And to address the question of carrying a sheathed knife in public:

“It is an offense to carry any sharp or bladed instrument in a public place, with the exception of a folding pocket knife, which has a blade that is 7.62 cm (3 inches) or less. However, possession of a lock knife in a public place without good reason is an offense.”

I tried to tell Joe these things, several years back, but he’d have none of it. So, yeah, he’s kinda nuts…and scary.

Anyway, THE DOGGIES ARE BACK, and snoozing away to their little hearts’ content. Before Deek departed, I emphasized that running a puppy mill is a crime, and you can go to jail a long time for it. And I DON’T want that to happen to him, he’d lose Flaco & Lucky forever. He didn’t care to hear me out, so just snarled a bit and took off. But I will persist, with periodic admonishments…and NO increase in his allowance until he affirms the promise he originally made seven months ago, about not getting Flaco pregnant so long as he remains living on the streets.

– Zeke K-Holmes

The Final Chapter (part 20)

September 3, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17t]

Texting with Wattson – 8/20/21 to 8/21/21

Pic: flaco sleeping

Pic: lucky sleeping

Pic: chicken-salmon entree

Subject: The shroud of dachshund actually DID come to me unbidden!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2021 1:45 PM

I was neither searching for some image to use, nor even participating in a forum that had anything to DO with dogs, shrouds, or anything else in a vein related TO this pic. It just popped up five days ago, in the midst of a thread discussing the pandemic. Unfortunately, I can’t track down that particular Reddit sub, much to my frustration, because I now realize the value of documenting how I stumbled upon it.

At any rate, someone uploaded the image without indicating why it was even relevant to the topic at hand. Then someone else wise-cracked, “Isn’t that the Shroud of Turin?” As if to make SURE I didn’t miss it…as if I had a bodhisattva guide IN that discussion, to present me with the perfect visage that I HAD been wishing to find, though kept it in the back of my mind for a future search. (Recall that I originally came up with the concept of a wiener cerement in February…and figured I’d get around to it some months later, to include in my upcoming Sherlockian spoof, “The Hounds of Basketville.”)

It could EASILY have been any other breed, but no, it’s definitely a dachshund, and a LONG-HAIRED one at that. It never even occurred to me, in trying to locate a suitable shroud-like image depicting a dachshund (if such a peculiar find is even out there), that a long-haired version would make the perfect doggy Jebus! But there it suddenly was, staring right back at me in the most surprising moment!

A classic example of what Carl Jung calls “synchronicity,” or actual, supermundane communiqué? I hesitate to conclude the former, as it strikes me as just way TOO synchronistic for its own good. FYI, initial reverse image searches coughed up ZILCH to help me discover its source, or any reference TO it. Curses! However, today I tried such searches outside of Google and Tineye, and came up with curiously inexplicable and vague results, mostly to do with one Eduardo Nieves from Mexico, who uses the image for an avatar. Also, references to “Eduardo Cachorro Meme” show up, such as this video with spooky background music:

“Cachorro” means “puppy” in Spanish. “Eduardo” seems to be a popular meme in Mexico, but I can’t learn anything more about it. Makes me wonder if I’m barking up the wrong tree [badda-bing badda-boom].

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: And, guess what…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2021 7:35 PM

…doggies are back again! Deek mumbled something about how sometimes Flaco gets annoyed with Lucky one moment, then the next, she’s all happy with him…then about how he’d like to go bike riding, maybe into the night. So perhaps he’ll ask me to sit them till sunrise. I believe he will, but I’ll know for sure later this eve, when he picks up his resurrected devices.

I suspect those were just excuses for a further act of kindness, that I spend even more time with the pups. Seeing as Flaco and Lucky are typical brother and sister, getting on each others’ nerves now and then…but otherwise a very loving relationship. May also be the nonstop chaos of the streets–especially since Deek is in the middle of it all, by necessity and preference–which could make the pups irritable at times. And are they getting enough sleep out there? I doubt it.

At any rate, they certainly earned their keep yesterday! There’s this filthy, angry vagrant been hanging out in front of my building for the last few days…often sitting down RIGHT BESIDE THE FRONT GATE! Screeching obscenities at the top of his lungs for HOURS, whether seated or marching up and down the street. Epithets like “f*ggots” and “n*ggers,” threatening to injure people if they don’t give him food money, and so on. Imagine having to put up with this, right below my window…and having to STEP OUT with the pups when he’s there! Well, for the most part when I emerge with them, he’s not right beside the gate, but further down the block. Until yesterday afternoon, that is.

As I approached the entryway, I saw his back was pushed up against the stationary half of the gate. And he was howling his usual threats to anyone strolling by, as well as to customers already seated outdoors. So I shortened my grip on their leashes to keep the pups close by my side, knowing of course they’re gonna go full-throttle manic on him. Sure enough, soon as I pushed my way out, they got right in his face with the most insane snarls, baring of teeth and feral barks you can imagine! Everything short of actually biting him…they put on a really spectacular show of raw ferocity!

The crazy dude freaked out immediately, snarled at me and the brindlekin (for which I scowled right back) while snatching up his meager possessions…then ran off to parts unknown, shrieking like the Furies themselves were about to rip him a new one! Within seconds, the sidewalk outside was pacific once more, while grateful customers applauded the doggies as we commenced our afternoon stroll.

Now contrast THAT with another vagrant I met one day prior: fifty-four or so, a bit portly, of jovial spirit and neatly clothed, including tightly lashed bedroll and knapsack without a stain or speck of dirt to show. He saw me with the pups, and greeted them kindly:

“Hey, little doggies, how-ya doin’ today?”

Of course they barked up a minor squall until he held out his hand, whence they grew quiet and sniffed away. Well THAT lasted but a moment or two, before they backed off and resumed their strident barks. Which is their usual wont with ANY stranger no matter HOW gentle, or even with someone they know, but don’t often see. I suspect their behavior in such scenarios would be uneventful, were just ONE of the mutts in my company. For I surmise their protective instinct towards each other (as brother and sister) kicks in, when together. At any rate, he got a good laugh out of it.

I DON’T know the fellow’s name, but I imagine he’s seen Deek with the dogs more than once, and enjoys their company now and then. It’s really NICE to meet a homeless person who is NOT scary, crazy or filthy, and whose company I could actually APPRECIATE. So if I see him again, I will make a point of asking his name, and engaging him in conversation.

Chihuahua man’s name is Samuel, BTW.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Disappointed…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2021 9:38 PM

…that Deek wanted the pups back, instead of letting them stay overnight. He also said he needs a fresh supply of dog food, even though I already gave him that just two days ago. This is the THIRD time in a month he said it was stolen! I told him he’s been asking for more dog food TWICE as often than ever before, and I can’t afford to keep this up. Until recently, I’ve been allotting him 5 cans of wet food, and two gallon-sized bags of kibble, once a week. But he’s DOUBLED that, over the past five weeks! The idea here is that I SUPPLEMENT his dog food expenses, not cover them totally! Very frustrating.

Regardless, he was mellow through it all, apologized and promised to not lean on me so much for the puppy vittles. I’m still PO’d at him for yelling at Flaco yesterday, and yanking on her leash. This was in response to her pulling forcefully in the other direction, towards my home…rather than go back outside with him. He was ANGRY at her for that! Unbelievable!

I told him in no soft terms: “DON’T yell at her, it’s not necessary. And NEVER yank on their leashes!” He immediately said, “Okay.” No resistance to my reprimand, but still: WHY do I have to keep chastising him for abusing those sweet little pups? What the FUCK is wrong with him? I HATE the idea that I’m gonna have to get harsh with him again, but his THICK skull is hurting Flaco & Lucky! I refuse to believe he’s that stupid. Doesn’t he realize that repeated yanking on their necks could cause serious damage?

I’m STUCK in a situation where everything between us is a public spectacle, where I can’t just lash out at him for his abuse, THOUGH IT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE NEEDS AT THIS POINT. But I can’t catch him alone, especially when he always seems to be in a rush to go elsewhere, whenever he stops by.

I’m at wit’s end.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: And, guess what…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 22, 2021 11:02 PM

> Yay to the pups for chasing off the obnoxious lunatic!

Indeed. They took care of the problem with impressive expedience.

> Dachshunds are fierce little things when they need to be!

And I got to see it firsthand. Inches from his face, sharp little razor teeth exposed and ready to shred up that snarling, spittle-spewing mug. Grrrrr!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Disappointed…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 23, 2021 12:02 AM

> I suspect he was jealous when Flaco spontaneously demonstrated that she’d rather be with you. People who live on the street often have a fragile sense of worth, and lording it over their animals, whom they see as lower on the totem pole than themselves, gives them a temporary ego-boost.

I understand, but he should know better…and not just for the doggies’ sake, but for his own conscience in the long run. Should he lose them by his own hand of ignorance, he’ll burn to death in his own, personal hell. And I WON’T be there to assuage his guilt; the friendship would be OVER. For at that point, if I remained by his side, he’d eventually adopt aNOTHER dog or two, and put me through the same, horrid, slow disaster.

So he HAS to know better. I just can’t do this on my own; OTHER people need to join in and call him to the carpet. Not a single one of his homeless friends seems to be any help in this matter. I was hoping that Boulevard Joe would listen to me, and see to it that Deek take better care of his pooches, but he’s kinda fizzled out on me over the last two years, to become an acquaintance from the past, rather than a regular friend in the present. Yet I’m perturbed that he hasn’t bothered to take it upon his OWN shoulders, of his own accord! HE should know better, as well.

> And it’s unconscionable that he should ever use you as any sort of figurative punching-bag. No good deed, etc….

He knows I like tea, and gave me a box of loose black tea he found tonight, still sealed in the pouch. Nice of him to think of me, but honestly I’d MUCH rather do without ANY thoughtful gifts from him, in exchange for treating the pups with love and patience ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of the time.

Lucky & Flaco are the most emotionally stable, kind dogs I’ve ever met…they are SO EASY to care for, not the least bit neurotic, moody or short tempered. It was VERY SAD to see Flaco look back at me with longing, after Deek’s burst of anger and pulling her forcefully onward. No wonder she’d prefer to stay with me!

As Deek prepared to leave, instead of returning hovel promptly, I held the dogs’ leashes until he was ready to go. This way, Flaco wouldn’t start tugging on her leash to return to me (because I was still with her). And, once he was ready, both dogs happily pranced alongside, and Flaco didn’t even look back once.

THEY parted ways before I did: a happy solution. So I showed Deek a loving strategy, using kindness in contrast to his short-tempered burst. Previously, he was always in such a rush to leave, he didn’t give me time to assist their departure, but preferred I return home promptly. Thus my abrupt breakaway from Flaco caused her some dismay.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Disappointed…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 23, 2021 1:12 PM

> Oh, I’m not excusing him. Just an observation. I see it all the time with homeless people here.

Some with roofs over their heads aren’t any better, as you well know, good doctor. They want a vulnerable, innocent creature to kick around. It’s sick as fuck. I will find a way to drive home to Deek, how massively ugly it is to express anger at the pups for ANY reason, and to yank on their leashes is even MORE deplorable. I just DON’T understand why this remains a problem, since he’s pretty much improved in all other ways.

> And I agree–if anything happens to them under his watch, cut him loose forever.

I would not tolerate his presence anywhere near me, I’d drive him out of the Castro. But I pray it will never come to that.

> Sweet, sweet little doggy angels…

I consider their care a sacred calling. If God is love, then dogs have it in spades. As for Samuel a.k.a. “chihuahua man,” I learned his name just last night when I stepped out for some air. I saw him returning with his own barkies; he smiled and I addressed him:

“So you know my name, what’s yours?”

“Samuel,” he answered while kneeling down to scoop a dollop of chihuahua plop off the sidewalk.

“Oh, well that’s a good name” I replied, for lack of something better to say.

I then wished him a good evening and went on my way. So that was a nice exchange, if somewhat brief. I was careful not to impose upon him…and I guess he’s ashamed for his screechy behavior previously, so I’m also cautious not to hold that over his head. Or even mention it.

Now, Flaco still tends to pick up food off the ground, while Lucky seems to have gotten over it. Three incidents in the past week:

I caught her with a flat, dried out wedge of luncheon meat between her jaws…about the size of two credit cards, though triangular and twice as thick. She resisted as I held firmly onto her prize, but waving a ducky treat over her nose quickly resolved the matter. Couple days later, I suddenly found her with a large hunk of baguette in her mouth. She was looking up at me, as if awaiting my approval, that is: she did not gobble it right down. The moment I grabbed onto the bread, she let go…no doggy snack required. That was a nice surprise!

Then just yesterday she proudly wielded a drumstick that appeared out of nowhere, but again gazed up at me for a yea or nay. Of course it was “nay,” though for a moment I considered letting her enjoy the roasted flesh, as it was all in one, intact piece. The moment I grabbed it between forefinger and thumb, she let go. I tossed it into a nearby bin, so other dogs may not be tempted.

All these times I’ve had to remove found morsels from her mouth, Lucky paid no mind. As if he knows not to interfere, that I always act on what’s best for them. They BOTH know I’ve got their back, as I know they have mine.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek dropped by with the pups for several minutes, then…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 27, 2021 12:20 AM

…they all left. After he collected his $60 weekly allowance, of course. And after the doggies smothered me with their boundless affection…Lucky nipping away at my jacket’s right sleeve, up and down and up and down, like a barber’s electric razor, his little white teeth creating a temporary pleat in the process. I’ve never seen a dog do that before; he’s so silly! And all this time I cradled Flaco in the crook of my left arm, with my face pressed against hers. She radiated happiness to be with me again!

“Oh, I can’t have the dogs over tonight?” I coyly begged. He said maybe tomorrow, he’s got to get going, some business to tend to. (I can’t imagine what kind of mission that would be, if the pooches need to be with him. He’s just making it up…asserting his “ownership” over them.)

He said the doggies are okay, and they now have a little tent. All this is fine, and he was polite, mellow, clean appearance. It’s a delicate, cool night anyway, perfect doggy weather…and Flaco & Lucky appeared to be in great health and spirits, as usual. I did remind him that the dogs LOVE to visit, and I love having them, and they deserve their little breaks from the street.

But he didn’t cave in, and I didn’t care to force the issue, as he nonetheless came off serene and collected. And I’m sure Flaco & Lucky adore their new tent!

He also asked me to break a twenty, which was a nuisance because I don’t have the bills for that upstairs…so marched on over to Rosenberg’s, whence the clerk gave me two fivers twice. I hate putting shopkeepers out like this, it’s just not my style. It may be Deek’s, but it’s not mine. Just as it’s not my habit to hold conversations out my window, where every Tom, Dick, Jane and Harry knows my business. Deek sometimes starts talking to me at length while I’m at the window to signal that I’m home…which annoys me no end. So I have to gesture “hold on, I’ll be right down,” then when I step out I remind him NOT to start a dialog while I’m still upstairs.

No one looks out their window any more, so sometimes passersby glare up at me, like it’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever seen. And to this day I wonder WHY looking out one’s window no longer seems to be the proper thing to do, unless you’re some crippled, aging shut-in staring out a grimy porthole. Whatever happened to the public commons?

Once I handed the bills over, he and dogs and shopping cart rambled back up Market Street, towards downtown. Though their final destination may only be a couple of overlong blocks further up, where many homeless gather at night on that corner. Seated, slumped, camped out,  twitching, snoozing, unconscious or OD’d atop the tiered, concrete steps that open to a tundra-scale parking lot scattered with Safeway shopping carts and the vehicles of revenent patrons. Or perhaps Deek was traversing a few blocks further bay-wards, by the Civic Center, another late-night hot spot for the ungrateful undead.

Flaco looked back a couple of times while I stood there and watched them vanish into the sultry-cool night.

I expelled a sigh of disappointment (though not so much, because my three angels are doing VERY well), then returned hovel. Wouldn’t you know it, Wattson, but guess who was back at the front gate, sitting right beside it? That disgusting, stinky cussing vagrant! It’s like he just popped out of nowhere; he wasn’t there when I stepped out! At least he was sitting quietly for the nonce, but he always asks me–and anyone else who enters and exits–for spare change. He’s barely two feet away, and I can only turn that key so fast in my haste to distance myself. I always ignore him totally, but ready to spritz him with capsaicin, should he try something.

The REAL problem, is that at least TWO residents of this building actually hand him a blanket and some cash now and then, while he’s slouched right by the gate! Don’t they give a flying fuck about how that will just EMBED him there? Doesn’t his screaming anti-gay and racist slurs bother them at all? Well, I know at least ONE of them lives at the back of the edifice, facing 16th Street, so isn’t subjected to the idiot’s foul screeching. But I am, as are many others!

I KNOW the building manager would not appreciate any residents coddling these fuck-ups right outside the front gate. They COULD be violent, or cause other havoc in the vicinity, not to mention all those bigoted expletives!


Well, sixteen minutes or so have passed since I completed that previous paragraph. (Note I said “sixteen,” rather than “fifteen” or some other number divisible by five or ten, as is customary in literature…so I just decided to break with that convention for one solitary moment.) I took a short break to stroll a few blocks up and down Noe Street, and meditate upon my latest meetup with Deek. Oh, and that putrescent derelict was no longer by the gate, or anywhere else nearby…thank the enslaved Shoggoths who rose up against their cruel masters, the Elder Things.

I am so pleased with Deek’s newfound good manners and spirit these days, that my letdown at not having the pups visit tonight is a mere blip on my astral radar. For in my overwhelming efforts of many months, to protect the doggies as best I can, I have also achieved a remarkable transformation in Deek’s behavior and attitude! For which I am ALSO transformed…and it’s all been through my devoted efforts to move this situation towards a benevolent outcome!

All credit DOES go, however, not to yours truly, but to Lucky & Flaco: two astoundingly sweet-natured, kind and joyful little darlings who’ve ignited the spark of love in my heart like a blazing lanthorn! I look forward to the next time the mutts camp out with me; I’m sure it will be soon, perhaps tomorrow. However, I am just as jubilant over Deek’s progress, so much so that I know I can trust him implicitly with the mutts…that I need never worry about their happiness and well-being, ever again.

This has been the GREATEST lesson in my entire life, and my hope that sharing these Brindlekin Tales with the world will also put that same spark in my readers’ hearts, that the bowwows have in mine.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: They’re back! <3 <3 <3
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 27, 2021 12:01 PM

9:30 AM Deek showed up with the pups, he said they’ve been up all night, so will probably crash out right away. He gave me three items to recharge…will pick them up in a couple of hours, but the dogs can stay. He looked great, smiling and effervescent. So this affirms my last post, where I concluded he’s finally on an even keel, no choppy waters, and sailing in a positive direction. I thanked him profusely, and off he went on his bike.

Click here for a larger view.

As you can see, Lucky & Flaco are resting like a boss, after having enjoyed a full meal and lots of belly rubs, neck scritches and group hugs. Couldn’t have a better morning, with my brindlekin for company (knowing Deek is glowing with confidence), and a refreshing mug o’ java from Rosenberg’s…and listening to Randi Rhodes’ latest podcast. That gal rocks! If you haven’t heard of her before, I highly recommend you check her out.

I discovered her back in the early two thousands on the now-defunct Air America progressive radio network. I keep myself in the best company, every day…among whom YOU stand out like the north star!

Flaco has a small splotch of gum stuck to her side, which I will carefully remove in a short time from now. My little angels!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: They’re back! <3 <3 <3
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 27, 2021 1:58 PM

> Oh, yeah! Randi rocks, for sure!!!

Air America Radio Network also featured Rachel Maddow, Thom Hartmann, Mike Malloy, Al Franken, Nicole Sandler and Ron Reagan. I loved that show, and was SO sad when it ended…it aired on “Green 960,” just a short dial turn up from KGO’s 810 AM. Especially since they were a perfect replacement for the old, local KGO channel whose fantastic hosts got peremptorily kicked off once Cumulus took over. That was back in 2011. I’d fall asleep listening to Ray Taliaferro and his callers, some of whom became celebrities in their own right. Here’s an article about that tragic event, with interesting reader comments.

Well, now I’m confused because Wikipedia says the original KGO died in 2011, and Air America went off the air in 2010! I distinctly remember discovering Randi Rhodes et al, some months after Ray Taliaferro et al were wiped out! Maybe they were all reruns, and I didn’t know it? Hmm, I’ve gotta look into this some more.

I just finished removing the gum from Flaco’s golden coat…rubbed in a dot of margarine, let it sit for several minutes, then picked it all out with my fingernails. Here she is now, lookin’ pretty for the camera.

Click here for a larger view.
Click here for a larger view.

Re: Another article on lack of dental care in this country!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 29, 2021 1:57 PM

> Great quote from the article:
> “We say in America there is no such thing as class; when mouths open it will dispose of that myth. Full human dignity includes dental care.”

Yes, excellent wording. Though it’s devastating that we remain in the grip of medieval, Catholic notions of poverty and wealth. The idea that God frowns on the poor and exalts the wealthy, and other BS like that. We still use the words “landlord” and “tenant” for cripes sake! My prediction: the bogeyman of communism will turn out to be Santa Claus in our time.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: I just gave Deek the remainder of his allowance…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 31, 2021 9:35 AM

…instead of withholding. He asked for a $20 advance three days ago. When I handed him the rest this morning, I told him I’m out of dog food. He said people are always offering him dog food, but it’s not the same brand I use, and they wind up pooping all over the place. He didn’t give me a chance to suggest he give me back $20 so I can buy more cans of canine vittles…he just said thanks and zipped off on his bike, leaving the pups with me again.

He did ask if having them stay with me so often were okay, no problems with other residents. I told him no, it’s fine, they love the doggies. Which is quite true. Then he rattled on about how he’s looking for housing, food stamps, whatever he is eligible for, but remarked how they keep turning him down because he’s not a total derelict, alcoholic, crippled and in a wheelchair, over 60 years old, etc., etc. That sounds about right to me! But he’s persistent, and that’s what really counts. I gave him such a positive boost by expressing what a remarkable act of kindness his sharing the pups with me is…and reinforcing that point now and then!

So I’m not gonna get him wrapped up in my budget woes, or get upset that he didn’t allow me to use part of his allowance to purchase more doggy chow. He’s actually doing fantastic, and I DO have four cans of food left, plus $43 in my bank account. So, just four days of marginal misery, and I’ll come out at the other end all shiny and new! I’m gonna hate shoving a twenty into the laundromat’s change machine, but I at LEAST gotta run the two large sleeping bags through the drier, so the pups will have SOME comfort before I can afford to do the rest of my laundry. Which will be on the third, when my next Social Security payment arrives.

It’ll cost me less than three dollars to process those sleeping bags…the rest of the change ($16) will go to more dog food. Wait a minute, I’m not thinking: I may as well purchase the dog chow first, and use a smaller bill to get my laundry quarters. I’ll still have $20 to “play” with…either for food for yours truly, or more food for the pups. The cans are $1.79 each (plus tax) whereas via Amazon, they’re less than $1 each, when purchased in lots of 10. So Amazon screwed me over twice this month…first by package theft, then by an unexpectedly SLOW delivery of canned dog food.

I almost canceled that order, but then remembered a few other times, when the estimated arrival seemed excessively distant…but the items wound up at my address in just three or four days, anyway. I hate the stress of this budget bullshit, and the utter stupidity of how society puts low income people into such pointless, often horrific, scenarios. We’re just a joke to the powers that be!

Oh, yeah, and the OTHER problem is, though Morey’s has the same brand of canned dog food, most of the cans are the mushy meat, instead of chunky…they may not even have any of the latter remaining, after my 3-can purchase yesterday. Infuriating!

I’m sure I could run up credit at that shop, but I refuse to go that direction, if only because I went out on a limb recently in order to squelch potential violence at their shop. So I don’t want to make them feel put out in any way, by asking that favor. That would create an awkward association well into the future.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: Just how TRUE Deek’s story is, about him going hither and yon to procure whatever assistance he can, is another kit and caboodle. He may be up to something else. However, his excellent attitude these days, mostly neat appearance, and taking such good care of the doggies (obviously) is quite impressive, nonetheless. IOW:

What, me worry?

Subject: Every time I turn my head around…
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 31, 2021 8:32 PM

…the pups are back again! Deek dropped them off about three hours ago. He was with this little guy yapping away in a friendly manner about SOMEthing, I don’t know what. Deek had his mini-bike with him, so I guess he wanted to scoot around awhile, ride with the wind and all that.

A couple weeks back, when I was sound asleep with Flaco & Lucky curled up beside me, Deek’s “Yo!” repeated several times woke me up. (But not the dogs, they were in deep snooze mode.) It was half-past five!

But I was not so bothered, considering all the good energy between us these days. Upon opening the front gate he said, “I’ll try not to make a habit of this.” I just laughed, glad that we now have this amicable relationship established for once and for all (no backsliding any more). Don’t remember what he needed at that time, did not want the dogs back.

Didn’t want any of his charged devices back, or money. Maybe he gave me another device to recharge; but still, that wouldn’t motivate him to disturb my sleep. I just can’t remember. Whatever it was, it must’ve been important to him…and I was back in dreamland a minute later.

Perhaps I dreamt it?

-Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: UPDATE: Elevator – Dennis – Building Mgr.
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 1, 2021 8:32 PM

Elevator is ready to go, just waiting on PG&E to hook it all up. However, they won’t budge from moving their appointment any earlier than some day in October. Jeez!

Early last night I saw Dennis sitting on the stairway, just a few steps up from the lobby floor. Obviously, his fall was not serious enough to warrant overnight care…or maybe it did, but COVID patients got in the way! I said hello, don’t move I can get around you, have a lovely night. He had just finished speaking with someone on his smartphone, when I stepped in…guessing it’s his nurse’s aide. An hour later I stepped out to go to the back porch, and saw him now sitting on the stairs just off my floor. That means he moved barely 15 steps since I encountered him in the lobby!

Another resident came up the stairs, asked if he’s okay, if he needs any help. Dennis just said he’s alright, but thanks. I don’t know what happened since, though by this morning he wasn’t anywhere on the stairs, though one of his hospital shoes was lying there in the hallway.

I took the doggies out for their walk about an hour ago, and the building manager was stepping inside as I came down the stairs. The pups were hesitant in proceeding down each step…not because someone was in the lobby, but because they sometimes do that, in order to heel themselves. Which is a nuisance when they keep close while using the stairs; their polite manners sometimes don’t work as intended. They proceed a couple of steps, then pause until I “catch up” by squeezing my feet between them on the same step. They they repeat. I’d prefer they just go on ahead and remain several steps in advance of my own presence, which sometimes they do, especially when I say, “Mush! Mush!”

So I tapped each one on the butt: “C’mon, you can do this!” They didn’t bark once as we reached the lobby and walked right up to Kevin. They just stood around, patiently waiting for me to open the gate. We had a very nice talk, he informed me about the elevator’s readiness (which I shared with you above), and wished me and the mutts a pleasant stroll. But the most important aspect of this encounter was how QUIET the dogs were…and right in front of the manager, and in the lobby, a spot where they are most likely to bark up a storm.

They have also crossed paths TWICE in the past week, with residents and their dogs…and neither Flaco nor Lucky barked very much, or loudly. Closer to woofs than barks, and just a few seconds’ outburst. And all this without my having to distract them with a doggy treat, including today’s encounter with Kevin!

I also told him how well Deek is doing these days, growing in leaps and bounds. And that it looks like my getting the police involved was the necessary shock to make these changes for the better. I don’t think he cared for me to update him in this matter…though I DO think he’s impressed. But if not, so be it, for I am nonetheless:

In awe of myself, Wattson!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Deek came back for the dogs, perfect timing!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 10:51 AM

This gives me all day and tomorrow morning to strip down my room, and get most heat treatment done at the laundromat. He apologized for taking so long to return, I said that’s fine and I’m glad he had such a nice adventure. Which was crazy stuff about getting lost across the bridge, up there in Marin County, and a whole lotta BS about drug dealers, girlfriends and ex-cons from some secret gov’t prison, and other nonsense that I’ve already forgotten.

Otherwise, he appears to be perfectly stable and in great spirits. The pups were happy to be with him again, totally mellow about departing my sanctuary. He’ll be back later today, to pick up two gizmos that are now plugged in for the usual recharge.

Earlier, as I returned hovel from walking the pooches, there was Kevin standing outside as if waiting for someone to pick him up (maybe a cab). The dogs were perfectly quiet as we approached, I told them to say hello, and Lucky stood up on his hind legs, with upper paws pressing upon his knee. He smiled and pet them.

A good start to my day, and I have managed to enjoy my two cups of java daily, keep the doggies well fed, provide for my own victuals, get all my clothing and bedding heat treated…and STILL have seven dollars remaining! Gee, what will I spend it on, my cup already runneth over.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Deek came back for the dogs, perfect timing!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 1:29 PM

> All quiet on the western front!

With a friendly “quack” echoing across the pond.

Re: Deek came back for the dogs, perfect timing!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 2:06 PM

> What a thoughtful, intelligent-looking duck!

He stood right out of the flock (of images) when searching for “duck”…maybe had something to do with it. Then, when he suddenly spoke upon my first glimpse of his friendly face, “Say hi to Wattson for me!” I knew he was the right duck for the job.

Subject: Laundry’s done, but I’m ready to drop!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 5:40 PM

Back and forth, back and forth, four blocks each way, running one load after another on high heat for 40 minutes a pop. I usually stretch it out AFTER the bug treatment is done, as I don’t NEED so many fluffy blankets, and would rather NOT put that much stress on me. But I did it for the doggies’ sake…I want them to have as much cushy comfort as possible, and as soon as possible, once they return.

In order to accomplish this, I went without breakfast until after the laundromat closed, which was 3:30 PM. Just now I finished dining on two slices of Alvarado Street Sprouted Wheat Cinnamon Raisin Bread. Never tasted so good! And generously slathered with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, to boot! Plus, a piping hot cup of Barry’s Afternoon Irish Tea. That’s the tea Deek gave me several evenings back…and it’s quite delish! Speaking of Deek:

After handing me the devices to be recharged, he bandied about what time he’ll show up to get them. I told him if I don’t answer at the window, he can find me at the laundromat. But then I added: after three-thirty is great, ’cause I’ll definitely be done with the laundry by then, that’s when they close.

So off he goes with the pooches, and off I go to bring my first load to the laundromat. No sooner had I gotten there and cashed in my five-spot for twenty quarters, than I heard a voice call out to me: “Zeke! What are you doing here?”

I turned around and saw Deek poking his head through the door. “I’m in a rush, don’t wanna wait any longer, I wanna get my stuff!”

I hollered back to just wait a minute, let me put my things in the dryer.

“C’mon, I gotta hurry. No one’s gonna steal your laundry!”

I then reminded him from across three rows of washing machines (no one else was there, thank Hera), that I’m not about to dance for him every time he snaps a finger. Having said that, I ignored the rest of his blabber and shoved eight, mismatched skinny throw rugs into the drier, along with the duffel bag used to carry them here. Which took all of twenty-two seconds. Jeez! I wasn’t about to do yet aNOTHER back-and-forth run just for one of his whims.

I bet he didn’t imagine I was gonna do more than that one load today…it’s all about his gangsta rap music. Nothing else matters.

He and the pups escorted me back hovel, whereby I ran upstairs to get the smartphone and Bluetooth speaker. Once more they departed, and I returned upstairs. Figures he’d pull that on me, knowing how busy I am today! I DID spot a mischievous gleam in his eye. Lucky playfully grabbed onto my pant cuff numerous times along the way, as Flaco and Deek happily tagged along.

Now, all that remains is getting rid of the tarps, and moving my workstation laptop, external monitor, two peripheral hard drives, a keyboard and a mouse to the closet area, so the exterminator has easy access to that section of the room. I can do all that tomorrow, with plenty of time to spare before he arrives, suited up like an astronaut.

BTW, Deek thanked me again, profusely, for all the good things I do, especially for helping with the pups. I told him their company is ALWAYS a blessing and an honor. He’s really happy as a clam these days! This is a wonderful outcome, n’est-ce pas? Maybe my trilogy should end here, or do you think, perhaps, I should wait until I’m crowned emperor of earth, which should take just a few more chapters, anyway.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Do you think this pepper is hot?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 8:27 PM

Found it by the curb on Noe Street last night, while walking the pups. No doubt a stray, left behind by our weekly Castro Farmers Market. I haven’t cut it open yet, to sample a piece, but wondering if you are familiar with this particular variety. I’m thinking of dicing it up and tossing it into my lentil stew tonight. Since I’m out of moolah to buy veggies for this evening’s dish, which I’m about to prepare.


Those white, crumply-plastic grocery bags are just the right size and durability for packing the dog food I give to Deek once or twice a week: five cans of wet chow, and two 1-gallon Ziploc bags of kibble. But I never need to bag my groceries since I always carry a backpack for that. I used to NOT wear my pack on those times I need another bag for Deek’s dog vittles, as an excuse to get one. But recently it occurred to me to just pick a clean one off the sidewalk, as such a find is often at my toe-tips.

Yesterday afternoon while returning from Morey’s I found just such a bag, checked it for cleanliness, saw it was good to go, so folded and stuffed it into a pocket. Almost back home after crossing 16th Street, a kind fellow walking towards me called out:

“Your bag just flew out of your pocket!”

I turned to him and said, “Oh, thanks…uh, where did it go?”

He pointed to the intersection of Market, 16th & Noe, with traffic whooshing by. And yep, there it was, fluttering along the curb of the MUNI island, stationary for the moment. It was then I decided that risking my life for the sake of a lousy plastic bag that I can easily replace in a dragonfly’s heartbeat is not worth it.

So I turned back around towards my building, leaving the renegade sack to its own, likely sorry, fate.


Two days ago as I stepped out with the pooches, I spotted Dieter seated alone at the outdoor dining parklet around the corner: a small restaurant that serves Mediterranean style food. I often see him there, almost every day it seems, sometimes alone, but usually with a friend or two (or three). This is a great spot for him, as it’s just around the corner, and his bad knees make it difficult to walk very far. For which reason he’s always seen outdoors with a portable, folding wheelchair that he uses more as a walker than a seat.

Whenever he’s by himself, and the dogs are with me, I bring them over so he can pet and admire them, which he greatly enjoys. After a solid ten minutes of badinage, I wished him a good meal, and began to depart. But I was halted by the obstruction of a handsome fellow holding a chihuahua in his arms, and a homeless person with a shopping cart right beside. Not that they knew each other, it’s just how the stars aligned at that moment. So I remained close to Dieter to assess the situation, and decided to wait until one or the other passed by, rather than squeezing myself and the pups between them. For surely they would bark at the rattling of the cart’s wheels, as they are wont to do, when accompanied by an obvious vagrant. That particular combination really gets the brindlekin all snarled up.

But they remained in that one spot, so I figured I could walk around them, on the right side, furthest from the street bum. Wouldn’t you know it, Wattson: the moment I proceeded forward, the vagrant became animated and started pushing the cart in our direction…and the mutts vocalized their wrath in HIS direction!

I turned to Dieter and said: “See that? This goes on all the time, some homeless person in a nasty mood SEES an opportunity to cause a ruckus and WAITS until everything falls into place, then does his thing.”

Dieter nodded in agreement and, just at that moment, the strapping young fellow with the chihuahua addresses me (we are now within several feet of each other):

“See? It’s okay for a dog to be a dog now and then!”

I saw then, he was accompanied by a young woman, also carrying a chihuahua in her arms. I smiled back and replied:

“Oh, I don’t think my dogs are barking at yours, it’s the shopping cart rattling by.”

“Yes, I think so! Your dogs are very cute, what are their names?”

I very much enjoyed his gregarious spirit, and we had a delightful conversation. Turns out his/their chihuahuas were rescued from a meth lab! I told him a bit of my own story about Lucky & Flaco (that a meth dealer still owns them but he’s a nice guy, blah blah blah). They both were amazed, and wished me a happy outcome in the long run.

Before they departed, I told them these pups are so inspiring, I’m writing about our adventures on my blog, they are always free to read, just google “brindlekin tales,” brindle and kin are one word.

“But watch out,” I warned, “it’s already turned into a trilogy!”

Then off they went, and I, likewise. A few seconds later I realized I had my wallet on me, and in it are several of my brindlekin cards. So I turned about, rushed up to them and said:

“Excuse me, I have something for you!”

I extracted my card and held it out to them. The moment they saw the image and title, they were charmed, and thanked me for the card.

Who knows where this could lead to? These doggies have given me SUCH incredible aspiration!

Re: Do you think this pepper is hot?
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: September 2, 2021 10:40 PM

> I’d be careful. The littler they are, the more lethally hot they tend to be!!

I just sampled it…not so much as a blush of heat. Though, immediately after thoroughly masticating a pinky-nail-sized piece and swallowing it, it occurred to me that it might be a fruit from an ornamental kind of pepper plant, containing some toxic substance that could put me in the box and six feet under. Upon that realization, my last thought, I keeled over and ordered one of my infinite doppelgangers to compose this missive, and all future ones. Hopefully, he learned his lesson by observing my sudden dismissal from this plane of existence, and tossed it away.

> A sensible decision, old chap. You can be sure the plastic bag would not risk its life for you!

I certainly wouldn’t hold my breath, Wattson!

> Serendippity-doo!!!!

Reminds me of the time, years and years ago, I came across an arrangement of doggy poo that was an exact replica of Stonehenge. I quickly ran home (just another SRO like this one) to obtain an old shoebox filled with assorted weird trinkets I absconded from the Archeology Department’s trash bin (including a collection of counterfeit scarabs and not-so-Native-American beadwork), emptied the contents onto my desk, then ran back to the miraculous discovery and gingerly slid it into the box. I had no idea how to preserve it, as it was rather moist and stunk to high heaven!

After considerable deliberation as it sat on my bed smelling up not just my own room, but the entire floor and the one above, I decided to dehydrate it in one of the ovens located in an area of the basement that served for a communal kitchen. So again, I carefully moved the extraordinary canine diorama, this time onto a cookie sheet…and inserted it into the gas oven set at approximately 165 degrees.

I kept close watch as the minutes passed into, well, more minutes…and it seemed to be drying out like you’d expect proper hound turds would. Then, after around 25 minutes, the house mom stepped in through the alleyway door that opened right into the basement, and its kitchen quarters. He was a burly, tall Swede…accent and all, and a handsome brute of a blond, who was the boyfriend of (and later impregnated) my college campus friend, Kate Krahling, whose name I adopted as my own, decades later…minus the G.

“Jesus Mary & Joseph, what is that STINK in here?”

I looked up at him from the large, communal table, like an uninvited guest to The Last Supper, whose sudden appearance caused everyone else to flee in great haste, including the guest of honor.

“Umm,” I drew out my reply in order to come up with some credible excuse. “It’s a science experiment?”

He glared at me: “Whatever you’re doing, STOP IT NOW, it’s stinking up the whole house! Take it to a lab, do your experiments there!”

And with that, he spun around and departed with a loud slam of the door. At that moment, my Stonehenge replica collapsed like a soufflé, and my heart was crushed. I never had a chance to photograph it before its unexpected fall from grace, so of course no one believed my story. As I’m sure you don’t either!

The Final Chapter (part 19)

August 19, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17s]

Subject: A Friendly Greet with the Building Manager
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 8, 2021 12:25 PM

Just this morning, returning from Rosenberg’s with my java, I politely held the gate open for Kevin, and said “good morning.” He replied in kind, so I queried about the compost situation…told him I was careful walking down the stairs, to dispose of my week’s worth of food scraps. He explained that several steps need to be replaced, and the job should be done within two or three days. I gave him a hearty thank-you, and we went our separate ways.

So that was good: no sign of annoyance on his part; in fact, he came off amicably. I’m glad I had that moment to show kindness; it’s the little things that truly count. Meanwhile, I just found this article about Carl Jung and his take on Tarot cards.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A Friendly Greet with the Building Manager
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 8, 2021 4:03 PM

> I agree with Jung: we could predict the future if we fully understood the past. We would be able to know how things would culminate. Of course, such an ability would have to be factored in.

That ability seems to be an aspect of the creative force…and, probably, the result of a person having studied a subject in depth that deals with history, sociology, politics, anthropology or other interests that require extensive knowledge of the past. For it makes one more perceptive, thus able to make predictions based on previous cycles of the human story. Some are so good at it they come off as possessing psychic powers! Take Margaret Atwood’s “Handmaid’s Tale,” that so concisely foretold today’s horrific social eruptions. The same can be said for numerous other authors and great thinkers.

But since such a talent is more rare than common, it can be a curse for those so gifted, as Cassandra knew so well! I can certainly relate, as I seem to likewise possess that ability, to some extent…thanks to my lifelong dedication to sexual minorities and the homeless (plus other interests such as anthropology and world religions and mythologies). The antagonism from others less aware never stops! Though it DOES seem to be subsiding, finally…which is amazing in and of itself. You are also so gifted, being the creative muse you clearly are, good doctor.

But what I prognosticate is the BLOSSOMING of humanity (rather than its annihilation) during this time of fomenting turmoil, with a victorious transformation of LGBT rights leading the way. I can envision, in part, just HOW this will come about. The big picture shines clearly in my mind, though many pieces of the puzzle are not apparent, nor is the timeline as accurate as I’d like. I tend to predict things occurring sooner than they do, by years if not decades. But they DO come true, just in Kismet’s time and not my own.

What is so amazing about all this, is that behind LGBTs and leading THEM–as well as the entire race of homo sapiens–into this golden era is not some great statesman, earth shaking event, or even that blockbuster TV series “Rick and Morty,” but instead (and hold onto your seat):

two perfectly sweet little doggies.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A Friendly Greet with the Building Manager
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 8, 2021 5:15 PM

> “but instead (and hold onto your seat): two perfectly sweet little
> doggies.”
> I think it makes perfect sense!

I hate to break the news to you this way, Wattson, but you’re not normal.

Subject: A genuine smile in the Castro made my day!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 11, 2021 12:13 PM

Since the pandemic took off like a harridan, I ceased my morning coffee walks through the Castro, to simply return hovel. But yesterday morning when I stepped out of Rosenberg’s with java in hand, I decided to resume my neighborhood stroll, at least for one day. So I first crossed Market to reach the shady side of the street, as the weather was warming up and the piercing beams of Old Man Sol would otherwise be stabbing into my eye sockets like an ice pick. (I know: that was over-the-top dramatic, so suffice it to say I’m not a sun worshiper by any means.)

As I approached Castro Street and the tacky Chevron station that also sells cigarettes, sour coffee and cheap, packaged snacks, along came this mellow, large black dude with thick, curly black hair, and holding half a pizza flat with trinkets he found along the way. Obviously homeless, though of somewhat neat appearance and friendly demeanor. As I swerved to my right and by the curb to grant him easy passage, he suddenly beamed a bright smile at me and said, “Good morning, God bless you!”

Well that perked me up, so I turned back towards him and replied: “Thank you! Good morning and God bless you, too…you just made my day!” That was a genuine wish on his part, and it made me glow inside. As we each continued our strolls in opposite directions, I noticed that Subway sandwiches was boarded up and closed, and I wondered how long it’s been that way. Nonetheless, he DID make my day, his smile like the promise of better times ahead. Thus, rather than walking with my friendly ghosts from “Castro Past” as I traversed a broad swath of the valley, I thought of my recent adventures with a grateful heart, knowing they will all lead to benevolent outcomes, each and every one. Some already have.

Upon nearing hovel after looping around (and meandering through) several long blocks, I also reached the end of my cup, barely two sips remained. Just before swigging down the final drops of my aureate elixir, a skinny elderly gentleman in blue jeans and yellow-striped, white shirt passed by, greeting me with a gentle “good morning.” I cheerfully responded as well, and observed him and his teensy long-haired dachshund continue their merry stroll towards 18th Street. The little sausage wanted to greet me, of course, but I thought the owner might be wary about that, so I just gave a friendly wave before turning homeward.

Later that day, around 4:30 PM, Deek showed up to hand over the pups and collect his allowance. As well as leave me with three devices to charge up: another new Bluetooth speaker (this one vertical, like a small tower), a battery pack, and a fancy-schmancy Samsung phone that he actually purchased new about a week ago…no doubt through the black market because better price. He returned a few hours later for his gizmos, told me to keep the mutts overnight, he’ll pick them up tomorrow or the next.

I am so pleased at how calm and high spirited he is these days! Before departing last night, he reminded me to show them love. I assured him I always do, and that Lucky favors neck scritches, while Flaco her belly rubs. He agreed with a flashy smile: I could see his teeth are still white and whole, now that his smiles have resumed after many frown-laden months. He then wished me a good night and took off. THERE HAS BEEN NOT AN IOTA OF DEVILMENT ON HIS PART FOR OVER THREE MONTHS NOW! Which only gives further credence to my Bodhisattva Premise:

That this is all scripted, and Deek is in on it. That his situation with the pups is not all it appears to be…they are better off when with him, than one would think. IOW, they probably have another place to stay and keep safe, warm and happy. The pups’ behavior all along gives indication they are mostly housed; not to mention how spotlessly clean they always are. And he, himself, is not truly homeless. Others are in on the game, too, such as the building manager, chihuahua man, my “quasi-fascist neighbor down the hallway,” Myrtle & son, Morey’s corner store, and even the SFPD! But since I’ve already elaborated upon my conjecture in previous posts, I won’t belabor the point, and just stop here with this new revelation:

Deek’s transformation is my own transformation.

Here are two new videos of Lucky, that I just took this morning…delightful as always (great thumbnails BTW):

As for my latest howling video I just texted you: I wish I could’ve caught the whole thing, starting with Lucky’s sitting up once they hear the siren, waiting to see if Flaco would decide to howl, before joining in, himself. Capturing only the tail end does not do justice to such a precious little scenario!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A genuine smile in the Castro made my day!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 11, 2021 3:11 PM

> How great to get those friendly smiles! I have transcendent experiences with strangers fairly often. Truly memorable.

Unusual for the Castro, at least for me it is. That’s what made it so great. Like waking up to a new, and better, reality.

> When I lived in town, and heard the fire siren, I always knew that within seconds there would be a chorus of doggy howls joining in. It would come from all directions, dogs many blocks apart singing together. It was wonderful.

They are the voices of love, nature’s church bells.

> Some dogs have a musical ear, an inheritance from their wolfy ancestors!

As you’ve probably noticed, Lucky has this amusing, halfhearted warble that is a counterpoint to Flaco’s more resonant howls. He never instigates the baying, but prefers to accompany his sister, once she begins her song. She really gets into it, as if to say: “Listen to me! This is immense!” And I do give her my rapt attention, because it’s an honor to do so, for all the kindness she gives.

> Great videos.

Charming little video vérité vignettes! One day, my Brindlekin Tales will warm many hearts.

> And of course, I got sucked into watching others.

Of course. Doggy time is always lovey-dovey time.

> here’s a heartwarmer.

TRULY soul-touching!

One comment there: “Whoever tried to abandon the dog AFTER SAVING HER: Satan’s children.”

I totally agree; what nasty people, attempting to dump that sweet, trusting pup when its new master was sound asleep. Thank god he awoke soon enough, and was not so far away to recover her promptly. And that wonderful person who kept the pooch for five months, much longer than she expected him to be gone, before returning to retrieve her. I can’t imagine the logistics of getting permission to allow the dog to get through customs and to her forever home. Amazing true tale from deep in the heart of the Amazon!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject:They’re Playing Me!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 11, 2021 8:28 PM

Upon returning from walking the pups an hour ago, I enter the front gate only to discover that BOTH the building manager (Kevin) and my quasi-fascist neighbor (Moe) are chatting on the first landing, which is in clear view from the lobby. IOW, I see them and they see me, so there is NO way I can step back out and wait until they disperse elsewhere. I already have two ducky treats at hand (as is my habit these days), to distract the mutts from barking, especially in tight quarters going up or down the narrow stairs. Which works up to a point; they still bark, but it’s brief and nowhere near as cacophonous as before.

But THIS, dear Wattson, is a worst-case scenario straight outta the Devil’s Playbook, in light of WHICH two residents they are, forcing me to squeeze by with the doggies, come hell or high water. I was hoping such an inevitable confrontation would NOT occur until a little further down the line, when the pups would be even tamer, that is: more adjusted to this building’s foot traffic. GOD-DAMN-STILL-OUT-OF-ORDER ELEVATOR!

Had the lift been in operation by now, none of this barking “problem” would even be a thing. Though I’ve considered it a non-issue all along, as MOST residents are charmed by the pups, and find their boisterous show hilarious, because of how diminutive and obviously harmless they are. And that, eventually, they’d adapt and the barks would subside soon enough. But no, Kevin has to be a byatch about it, due most likely to my debacle with him over the Myrtle-and-son fiasco earlier this year, which I WON hands down. While at the same time giving him a well deserved black eye in my complaint to Ablahblah Realty.

So of course I play it cool and barge right on up the stairs, holding the treats over their noses to guide them directly through the narrow (but imposing) gauntlet of my two, greatest arch enemies occupying 9666 Market Street! They stand aside barely enough for THIS hapless trio to scamper through, as the pups go into barking frenzy mode, and I keep one hand forward, saying a couple of times: “Keep your eyes on the treat!” To my relief that works, as they sound off a scant three seconds…the time it took to pass through this “second gate.” So they barked a total of five consecutive steps: two just before, and two just after. Perfectly silent, otherwise. I hope they were impressed…any SANE person would be. But get this, good doctor:

Moe had said something to the pooches as we slipped by, but I was too preoccupied with keeping them quiet as possible, to give it any attention until a few minutes later, when his words echoed in my skull:

“I bet if I gave you some treats, you wouldn’t bark!”

That surprised me in a pleasant manner, especially since his tone of voice was calm and friendly. So once more my Bodhisatvva Premise kicks in:

They’re playing me, Wattson! As sort of evil stepsisters to my Cinderella, that I stand out as hero by my dedication to the dogs’ well-being regardless of any animosity or threats flung my way. And doing so while keeping an amicable face towards mine enemies…”right thinking,” the way of the Buddha! Moe’s kind words were one of those bodhisattva hints I’ve spoken of, that they toss in now and then in the midst of one’s struggles…a bit of affirmation to lift your spirits. For they are compassionate at heart, though some play your adversary for a time, that you grow in spirit by accepting their challenges and learning to rise above them. Furthermore:

These hints begin to flow fast and thick, once you reach the end of your struggles with a successful score of one hundred percent. IOW, they are about to drop their devilish mask and reveal themselves as the angels they truly are. And shower you with accolades for a job well done.

Assuming my theory is correct, then OF COURSE Deek is in on it with them, and numerous others who’ve played my foe in one way or another, to a greater or lesser extent. Including Arwyn, whom I strongly suspect of composing this script from beginning to end…long and drawn out, that it may encompass an incredible number of amazing true tales! While scarcely an actor in my Brindlekin Tales trilogy–unlike when he was the star of my previous novel–he remains the major force, albeit behind the scenes.

Like a brilliant puppeteer.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: THREE TIMES TODAY, people have complimented upon the beauty of these pups. One occurence was from the wraparound deck of Lookout: a gay bar on the second floor and right on the corner of Noe & 16th. As I crossed the street with Flaco & Lucky, they hooted and whistled down at us, saying things like “lovely pooches,” “cute doggies” and stuff like that. The pups looked up and barked back with glee, until we finally passed under them, and beyond.

Then about a block further down (on Noe Street) some sprightly old lady walking in the middle of the street (which was closed to traffic, as Wednesdays are our Castro Market days, when local farmers sell their fresh, organic produce), called to me:

“Oh, what lovely, sweet dogs!”

“Thank you,” I called back, “they’re half dachshund and half terrier…and all bundle of love!”

She stood there a moment to admire them from twenty feet away, then departed with the words:

“You’re a very lucky man!”

“Yes I am,” I replied. “And THIS dog here is even named Lucky!”

On my way back, a lesbian couple in a large makeshift stall used in the afternoons by Jefferey’s Natural Pet Foods for dog training classes, called me over to comment on how gorgeous my brindlekin are. I thanked them, told them their names, and a bit about how I acquired them.

“They’re REAL rescue dogs, right off the street!”

They asked if they could give them a little treat and I said, sure. The pups were very polite, and graciously accepted the handout. The couple thanked me profusely for allowing them to admire the pooches, then got back to their class, which contained five other people and their dogs. A lot of barking, and jovial human voices.

It was a sunny, warm day with a cool breeze that brought out the best in people, apparently.

What do you want to bet, Wattson, that the building manager and my quasi-fascist neighbor down the hall, read my Brindlekin blog tales faithfully? Makes sense if my Bodhisattva Premise is true. Which means they will have a good laugh reading today’s encounter between them and my pooches, in my upcoming chapter. Which should be out in a week or so. This ALSO implies that even some at Ablahblah Realty read them, too! As I guess do Myrtle & son, plus the folks at Morey’s corner store.

I should start carrying a few of my Brindlekin Tales cards, now that more people are noticing them these days! I’ll try to save up a bit of money to print out another batch by the end of the month…I only have about fifteen left! And here’s a video I just took of Lucky fluffing up his blanket before settling in. Lit only by my portable LED lamp, which suddenly blacked out during the recording. Couldn’t have happened at a worse time, drats!

Subject: Putting 2 + 2 together…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 12, 2021 10:22 AM

…and coming up with a solid 4.

Dieter and I get along very well, and he loves the pups, and is friends with the building manager…they even live on the same floor, just a couple of doors away from each other. What better person could I have, to vouch for the pups’ kindness and good behavior? Why this realization didn’t occur to me earlier is beyond me, old chap!

Plus, every time I spoke to Dieter about my frustrations with Kevin, it was never with hatred, but concern…and stating that I always meet antagonism with compassion, as that is the Buddhist path. He is aware of my clash with Kevin over the Myrtle-&-son conflict, has seen the video of Adisa and lackeys harassing me at the front gate, and has also read Kevin’s wicked letter that falsely accused the dogs of biting Adisa, as well as declaring the most prejudicial, anti-homeless rant I’ve seen in a long time.

Dieter IS, by the way, another homeless advocate; he’s friends with a few of them himself. Not that he is a full-blown activist on their behalf, but clearly grasps how I’ve suffered years of hostility by my fellow queers…the spoiled ones that is, those flush with money and who flaunt their prosperity like they’re the Gay God’s Chosen. Most of whom, of course, are either Republican or Libertarian. Little diff between the two, except one party is anti-marijuana, and the other is pro.

He has often brought this up, this sharp turn to the right by our LGBT community, expressing much disgust over how things have changed for the worst over the years, in this once-affordable and welcome mecca for gays, the poor and eccentric outsiders (many of whom were artists driven out of the city years ago, due to costly gentrification and increasing enmity against our kind).

Amazing how I’ve survived it all: escaping from a dysfunctional family, evading the draft without penalty, dodging the AIDS bullet, as well as not succumbing to either hard drugs or mandatory psychiatric doping. Nowadays, there’s Trumpism, COVID-19, and looming economic and climate disaster to deal with. Thank God for Flaco and Lucky and their incredible master, Deek! For they are key to my ongoing survival, and more: THRIVING through it all.

Yes, of course, you deserve MUCH credit as well, for you came before them, and paved my way to where I am today: not just a legend in my own mind, but a global super hero!

Good morning Wattson! Another day has begun, and I hope yours is SPECTACULAR.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: They’re Playing Me!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 12, 2021 2:12 PM

> “people have complimented upon the beauty of these pups.”
> This is lovely.

Well on their way to becoming the mascots of the Castro. What I’ve been struggling for all along!

Deek collected the pooches yesterday evening. Just came by today, so I could charge his smartphone and speaker. Then he said he’ll be right around the corner, and will return to pick up the devices later. Which I guesstimate will be in about two hours. But the important aspect of all this is:

HE’S REALLY MELLOW THESE DAYS! I have finally won the dragon’s trust, as I described my challenge to ensure the pups have a happy, long life. A fairy tale analogy, where I compare his dangerous bipolarity to a dragon, and the doggies to a fair maiden imprisoned in the leviathan’s lair. And I, the knight in shining armor, who has concluded he must also befriend the wyvern (rather than slaughter it), in order to free the maiden. A happy ending for all parties involved, no one excluded. This is quite Jungian, what with the archetypal layer.

You know how Arab shopkeepers like to address their customers as “boss?” I recall the first time that happened to me (years ago of course), and I found it quite witty. Well, this morning when I entered Rosenberg’s, Charlie greeted me with the usual, “Good morning, boss, how are you?”

I said just fine, thanks, then proceeded to pour my coffee (it’s self-serve). As I did so, another customer entered the store, and Charlie addressed him as well: “Good morning, boss, how are you?”

A moment later I stepped up to pay, and remarked: “I just learned something!”

“Yes, what’s that?” he queried.

“I’m not the only one you call ‘boss!'”

That cracked him up, as was my intent.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Catching Up (odds & ends)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 15, 2021 7:33 PM

Yesterday, Jack and wife who run that friendly corner shop with Morey, offered me all the fresh, organic plums I want. They were gathered from a relative’s backyard, and now fill a large carton bursting with sweet, purple-dark drupes! I gladly snatched up an armful, and thanked them profusely. So things are flourishing once more with them, in spite of that vile attack two weeks ago by Adisa and lackeys. The punks have NOT returned to cause more chaos, and Jack has quickly bounced back to excellent health, and he looks it. I know they greatly appreciate my nipping a potential tragedy in the bud…glad, though, no one’s making a big deal of it.

Over five weeks ago, the Snap Program has granted me a princely sum of $20 per month in food stamps, though they have yet to send me the magnetized card that will permit me to spend it. Yet they continue to update me with email notices, such as one stating an extra sum has been added to my account, thanks to the pandemic. They didn’t say how much, but I presume it’s based on a percentage of what I’m already receiving. So my guesstimate is around one or two dollars…though it could be as little as a dime. I’ll have to call their office about the missing plastic, though I strongly doubt plodding through their phone menu tree will achieve the goal of actually procuring said card.

Since I’ve begun giving Lucky copious neck scritches as of several weeks back, he now vies with Flaco to scramble onto my skinny lap. Nonetheless, she persists in pushing him aside with surprising force that, were it not for my own, stronger arm, she’d accomplish. My solution is to embrace them simultaneously, while calling out: “Group hugs! Group hugs!” Then I sort out the belly rubs (which Flaco favors) from the neck scritches, with a separate hand dedicated to each purpose. (Did I say that right? It kinda sounds like I’m an octopus.) It’s a tough assignment, but someone’s gotta do it!

Much to my happy astonishment, I continue to doze off like a log, and wake up each morning totally refreshed some time around 7:30! This is NOT the Zeke I’ve known since childhood, living out my pupate phase in the youthful know-nothingness of suburbia’s gray cocoon. Certainly, the doggos’ delightful company has restored in me that superb state of inner peace. When visiting, they always greet each morning with incredible joie de vivre, starring myself as their hero…and continue such high spirits throughout the day and unto sleepy time once more!

Regarding Medicaid’s astronomical share of cost, causing lack of dental care (as well as that for ear and eye exams/treatment) even though you ARE eligible to receive such on paper: I HAVE BEEN HEARD, after years of speaking out! First, as of late last year, Governor Newsom declared Medi-Cal services to be free for all recipients, starting some time in 2021…eventually settling on April for the kickoff month. And now, Democrats are pushing for dental coverage (and hearing and eye care) under Medicare’s umbrella. This is how it should have been all along, but I’m elated it’s finally coming true. I’m not saying “I have been heard” literally; it’s just that I’ve been struggling to get the Dems to realize what a serious issue this is, and needs to be rectified ASAP. Whether or not these vital services finally get absorbed into Medicare (the GOP will fight it tooth and nail), it is sufficient to me that our party CLEARLY UNDERSTANDS this tragedy, and is now taking up arms. I NO LONGER STAND ALONE! My wish has come true, so to speak. Whether or not my OWN words in cyberspace had anything to do with it, may never be known. But I’m glad I put them out there, just the same.

There seems to be a much greater awareness of yours truly, among the Castro’s homeless population. Which I’d say was triggered seven months ago by Deek’s running around like Chicken Little and telling everyone I stole his pups. (If only it were that simple!) Then witnessing further developments as they saw me helping him care for the pooches, and how amicably this arrangement has turned out. Including his showing up more frequently with a street friend or two, during our meetups. Which is fine with me, at this point. In fact, several days ago two buddies were tagging along when I stepped out to hand over the pups (after a good, long rest), and a fresh supply of dog food. One of them gave me a cordial hello and a smile. Of course I returned the kindness, but it wasn’t till some time later when I returned hovel, that I realized it was that same, large black dude who said “good morning” and “god bless you” in passing (during my coffee stroll through the Castro) just two days before!

We have all learned, recently, that bandannas are NOT a good masking option. I sure wish these “experts” had told us right from the git-go! We have always known that N95 masks are the best way to go…and now, we understand that three-layered cloth masks come in second place (with silk right at the top, followed by cotton, then polyester). But I still had to figure out which cloth masks are the best, among the myriad offered on Amazon…rifling through negative reviews, as well as positive. For some buyers, the ear straps pop off easily, or they’re too loose or too tight. Or the masks are tinted with a toxic dye, or they have a chemical stink or make your skin break out in rashes, and so forth. And even some of the expensive N95 brands may be counterfeit!

So rather than waste my money and time trying out first one brand, then another, till I find the right fit or whatever, a couple of hundred dollars later, I came upon a perfect solution: just pluck ’em off the sidewalk. Folks are dropping them everywhere! Yesterday, I acquired three in exactly that manner. They all looked brand new anyway, and are definitely reusable. Once hovel, I smudged hand sanitizer all over each mask, swooshed them around in warm, soapy water for a good minute or so, then rinsed them thoroughly and hung them up to dry overnight. Voila! Free, quality masks which I’ll never run out of, because just there for the picking. Like some weird manna from heaven.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Texting with Wattson – 8/11/21 to 8/16/21

Video: pups howling

Pic: pups snoozing 1

Video: homeless hang out

Pic: wattson’s doorway 1

Pic: wattson’s doorway 2

Pic: pups snoozing 2

Pic: deek snoozing 1

Pic: wattson’s pup “surely”

Pic: deek snoozing 2

Pic: deek & pups snoozing 1

Pic: deek & pups snoozing 2

Pic: deek & pups snoozing 3

Pic: deek & pups snoozing 4

Pic: reddit advertisement

Subject: Dogs are back, snoozin’ like there’s no tomorrow!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2021 7:02 PM

OMG they were dying to get inside, Flaco was almost in a panic at the gate, where Deek forced us to linger while he insisted on shooting the bull…until I finally said, “Enough!” But here’s the best thing out of this:

As we stumbled inside, a resident was standing in the lobby, diddling with his smartphone…yet the dogs did NOT bark, ignored him entirely. All they wanted, desperately, was to get to my sanctuary ASAP. In their excitement, they barked a bit going up the stairs.

Whence we crossed paths with a friendly, young fellow who walked down slowly while leaning against the wall, due to a sprained ankle or somethin’ like that. I said, as I maneuvered the pups around him: “They don’t bite, just bark sometimes!” He replied he knows, they’re wonderful doggies (as he’s encountered them several days back, with delight). Pooches were really no problem, and it was funny to see how eager they were to hop onto that cot and crash out. After all, they don’t know how much time they have for each visit (nor do I, because, as you know, Deek can sometimes be quite an A-hole), so take full advantage of each opportunity to rest up.

Which they did, immediately. Didn’t even go for the bowl of water I set out. Flaco wasn’t even in the mood for some ducky treats, though Lucky was. However, he remained supine on the bedding, expecting me to serve him tidbits like he was the King of Siam. And ASFAIC, he is! My conclusion:

Too many residents here now love the mutts, and wouldn’t think kindly of chihuahua man or the building manager, for any meanspirited gossip about them.

Click here for a larger view.
Click here for a larger view.

Re: Dogs are back, snoozin’ like there’s no tomorrow!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2021 7:25 PM

> Excellent report.

Yes indeed.

> And those pics! Even asleep, the doggies are actively enjoying the comfort and luxury.

Their golden, brindle luminosity is Goodness Canine-ized. My humble monkish cell is transformed into a Dachshund Epiphany whenever they’re present. And it is all thanks to Deek. Now that’s just amazing, especially when you look back at how it all started, and the progress made since. Deek returned to collect his newly charged phone, told me to keep the pups overnight. Another doggy sleepover…yay! Time for their din-din.

– Zeke K-Holmes

P.S.: And to top it all off, just this morning at the crack of dawn, with sunlight streaming in silver rivulets through the worn seams of my curtain, I was gifted this amazing find, a sacred relic lost in the bowwows of deep antiquity: The Shroud of Dachshund! This is truly a Dogsend that has fallen into my trembling, undeserving hands!

My taloned associate, Pterry Pterodactyl, appeared on the lamppost perch astride my hovel, tapping her leathery wings upon the window pane, and clasping this archaic cloth between her beaks. She knows the whole story, not just how she discovered it, but how it came to be in the first place…and promises to reveal EVERYTHING to me, in due time. I’m guessing around Brindlefest, at year’s end. The suspense is hounding me already!

Click here for a larger view.

Subject: And yet MORE good news from the Castro trenches!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2021 10:13 PM

I stepped out a short while ago for some fresh air, leaving the pups to slumber on. Upon reaching the gate, there was chihuahua man on the other side, fumbling with the keys to get in. So I called out: “I got it!” And held the gate open so he and his pooches could enter with ease.

He said, “Thank you, Zeke. I hope your evening is going well, and that you have a lovely night.”

“Likewise for you,” I replied, “have a great evening!”

Whaddiditellya, Wattson? They’re PLAYING me…but in a good way, getting me to rise above twitches of anxiety, learning to not worry about anything at all. I think they’ve done a damned good job of it too, what say you? In conclusion:

The manager NEVER had any plans to make me get rid of the pups. It was a CHALLENGE for me to accept, and figure out how to resolve as compassionately as possible.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Dogs are back, snoozin’ like there’s no tomorrow!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2021 11:02 PM

> “The Shroud of Dachshund!”
> He is risen!

The greatest shaggy dog story ever told.

Re: And yet MORE good news from the Castro trenches!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 18, 2021 11:48 PM

> And perhaps soon they will be yours all the time.

I was thinking more in terms of them being adopted by the entire building…our mascots! I’d take the dogs for visits with our three or four elderly residents, who are mostly confined to their rooms. People could chip in for veterinary costs, doggy sweaters, food, toys, etc. This group adoption would then expand to the entire neighborhood, thus the brindlekin would be well protected and cared for every minute of every day, for the rest of their lovely little lives. Just as I have been praying for, all along…ever since October 30th 2020.

Now we can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, the joyful conclusion to my long-winded epoch, a win/win outcome for all parties involved. There’ll be some news coverage as well, at least locally…but one can easily imagine how that could go viral around the world. On the heels of the pandemic, sweeping away all grief that came before. Curly tail-waggin’ joy for everyone! Thus a new holiday shall be born from the ashes of Exmass.


– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Chihuahua Man Update
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 19, 2021 10:19 PM

Last night around 10:30 PM, I was returning hovel after a short stroll in the cool night air (pups were asleep upstairs), and saw chihuahua man walking his two arf-arfs in my direction. He addressed me, apologizing for one of his doggies peeing in my hallway, and he’ll clean it up soon as he returns. He didn’t want me to slip on it. Conveniently, the pooch had peed on the long plastic sheet by the elevator door, rather than directly on the carpet. I told him no problem, thanks for the alert and have a lovely night. Upon returning hovel, I grabbed some paper towels and mopped up the tiny puddle in a flash. Goodwill is dogwill.

– Zeke K-Holmes

The Final Chapter (part 18)

August 8, 2021

[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 3: Chapter 17r]

Subject: Well lookee here: Adisa’s Mom has a FB page!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: July 31, 2021 8:38 PM

So I just messaged her this:

Click here for a larger view.

I will also text Myrtle’s FB page URL to Morey and Jack in a few moments, and let them know I’ve informed her of the incident. Meanwhile:

Deek finally dropped by this morning to collect the brindlekin. He showed me a little doggy bicycle cart enclosed with a zip-up tent and lashed to the bike, that the pups may ride with him. I’m sure they’ll love it, though Flaco may be unwilling to stay inside the contraption…seeing as he can never get her to sit in the shopping cart with Lucky. But we’ll see.

I gave him twenty more dollars, told him I really had to squeeze this out of my end-of-the-month budget, and I now have only three dollars left for four days. Which is not true, but he doesn’t need to know that. I actually have $55 remaining…bad enough, but I’m good.

He gratefully accepted the Jackson, saying: “Aw c’mon, don’t make me feel bad about it,” and offered it back. I said no, it’s fine, glad to do it, I have plenty of food to last me.

Then I told him something sad happened yesterday, has nothing to do with the dogs. That was the altercation at Morey’s shop. He was surprised to hear the cops didn’t track them down and at least reprimand them. Told him I was, too, because they were both responsive and effective when I called 911 over MY altercation with Adisa and punks.

I also told him that little section of the Castro is sort of my own outdoor sanctuary, away from the usual bullshit…and that the folks at Morey’s have become “my people” (to put it in Deek’s own street vernacular). But now a dark shadow hangs over it. I assured him though that things will work out okay, it’s just sad that such a pointless horror went down on some really nice people who appreciate me, and the pooches. Morey is very pro-homeless, as am I.

Formerly, whenever I tried to tell Deek of a sorry occurrence in my life, he’d cut me off, even shout me down. Worse: he’s also mocked me. But lately, he’s been attentive and supportive towards my own struggles. Quite an improvement, eh, Wattson?

A few weeks back there was a homeless man loitering in the ATM alcove below my window, sprawled out either drunk or drugged, and bellowing nonsense to those walking by. Which of course, was a major disturbance for me, trying to live my own life in my hovel upstairs…albeit a typically frequent nuisance, of which those Hohokum employees are no help. Deek showed up by the bus stop and, once I came downstairs, he jokingly remarked (speaking over the vagrant’s screams) what nice people hang out around my place. This observation on his part tells me he’s matured considerably, and is on my side more often than not, these days.

Before departing, he thanked me for everything, said God bless; and I, the same. Once more, he simply disappeared around the corner and, I presumed, parked himself on the back side of my building, where he’d linger peacefully for an hour or so. Though now 30 minutes later, I just peeked out the hallway window to discover no sign of him anywhere!

So that’s how my day has started. Will Myrtle reply, and what kind of response will that be, if she does? I doubt she will, but you never know. Maybe she’ll send some goons to my door, ha-ha.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Well lookee here: Adisa’s Mom has a FB page!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2021 12:56 PM

> You won’t hear back from her.

Good! Did you see what her “occupation” is? Self employed family consultant! Good god.

> But the son may hear from her.

Good! Hopefully, the impact of my message will staunch any further harassment upon Morey’s shop. Doing my best to avert tragedy. This is disgusting, that Adisa should suddenly impose further horror into my life AFTER he’s supposedly moved on…potentially destroying the only friendly association I have in my neighborhood, achieved only after many months of amicable rapport. Preceded by many years of virtual social isolation, other than what I have in cyberspace…thanks mostly to you, good doctor!

Don’t you find it suspicious I should actually witness this altercation, rather than just hear about it? This is why I believe that once more, a script created by my bodhisattva guardians is being played out. For what reason? That I become the hero in yet another scenario. Which suggests that Morey et al are in on it, too. Which would be GREAT, because then it would mean no harm actually done.

> How about the Kevin situation, the misfired text and all??

Being just another actor in this play starring Zeke, I’m sure he and coconspirators (including chihuahua man) had quite a hardy laugh. But no, nothing further has evolved in this matter, that I can see. Though Athena only knows WHAT new tricks he’s conjuring up his sleeve, to make me stumble once more. So long as I don’t lose it and go ballistic, they will always fail. He has not texted me back after my faux pas, nor did I expect him to, since the LAST thing he desires is to have ANY friendly rapport with me, on ANY level.

> Good for Deek. And good for you for your concentrated kindness to him.

Those darling pups have played a major paw in bringing this about. What an amazing story, “Brindlekin Tales.” The doggies bring such joy and inspiration into my world, and I believe that’s been Deek’s intention all along. That is true kindness, my friend!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Adisa and Punk Friends Robbed Morey’s Shop This Afternoon!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 1, 2021 1:01 PM

> I know. I’m just hoping you’ll be extra vigilant in these barbaric times when the Philistines are in ascendance.

An assault rifle could come in handy. When in Rome…

Subject: Jack has already returned to work!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 2, 2021 8:30 PM

I went to Morey’s corner store to see him working behind the counter, just two days after the incident. Said he got my texts, and thanked me kindly. I told him if it were me, I would’ve taken at least a week before returning to work…that was quite nerve-wracking. Then I brought up some of the BS I went through while Myrtle & son were still residing in my building.

Morey thanked me too, when I returned there later in the day. I told him about my message to Myrtle, and he asked, “Can you post anonymously?”

I said nope, you can’t, not with Facebook. Though that’s not true, but it is difficult for most people to accomplish. Had I posted under a fake name, I’m sure the impact would’ve been trivial by comparison. I presume Morey was concerned for my own safety, but also impressed. Jack does show some strain for what he’s been through; I’m guessing he’s in his late seventies. He should bounce back.

At any rate, an excellent rapport has sprouted out of this. Glad to support a local business! I remain, as always, good physician:

Your friend and admirer,

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Sleeping Better than Ever Through it All!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 3, 2021 10:44 AM

An interesting observation I’ve made about my present life, is that I’m sleeping very well these days. Which started sometime after the pups had come into my life. This is regardless of any conflicts that arise; and there have been several thus far…as you well know, Wattson. In fact, I’m sleeping better than I ever have in decades! Insomnia appears to be a thing of the past, finally. So nice to actually feel drowsy by 10 or 11 PM…and if I don’t hit the sack soon thereafter, I become even drowsier! I even find myself dozing off now and then in the daytime, while partially reclined in my swivel chair and watching a video. Which is also new to me, as I’ve never been able to take a REAL nap for decades as well.

I used to be a night person until recently, staying up until 2 or 3 AM, but sometimes the whole damn night. The doggies have turned me into a morning person, because by 7:30 AM or so their need to poop is urgent. As is mine, I suppose.

Though I don’t believe the credit goes entirely to Flaco & Lucky, but to learning better not to worry about a thing per my newfound philosophy I call The Bodhisattva Premise. Yet I probably would not have gotten there in the first place, without the brindlekin’s sweet company. So I give them 99.99999 percent of the credit, leaving barely a smidgeon for any other influences that merit my gratitude. Especially since finding some way to not worry so much about them having to live on the streets, was especially difficult to overcome. As for worrying about conflicts coming out of my residency (keeping my bodhisattva theory in mind):

By interpreting their challenges as outright harassment, I am missing the boat. What they’re REALLY doing is tweaking my emotional quotient to a level where that situation, too, becomes worry-free. Thus, I am definitely on the right path by having concluded some months back, that the BEST possible way to deal with this, is to remain calm and friendly even under stress, and to staunch any anger that may arise in my heart.

Whenever fear wells up (or any other negative sentiment such as grief and anxiety) I quickly switch my thoughts to joyful ones. This is particularly helpful for the newshound in me! I keep up with EVERYTHING, so if I didn’t develop a thick skin, I’d’ve become a twitching puddle of nerves long ago. I must say, this DJ Trump reign of terror (that extends beyond his four years in the oval office, and remains with us now like a dark curse on humanity) has been MOST efficacious in accelerating my ascension into a broader realm of positivity. Or, as I like to call it, “NeoPositivity,” my precursor title to what I now dub the Bodhisattva Premise.

Common sense would conclude that this premise applies to any and ALL negative fantasies of worst-case scenarios, including worry about aging and all the imagined pitfalls that go with it. NONE OF THAT WILL HAPPEN. Though one shouldn’t even worry about worrying about it. All THAT will do is fill your days with anxiety, over things that will not manifest. Though mundane reality works very hard at trying to convince us otherwise. Which is its PURPOSE, to offer up challenge after challenge that we may learn to overcome each one. And in so doing, we become that much wiser and more jubilant.

It is even MORE joyful to realize that such difficult challenges brought about by Trumpism have likewise had a fortuitous impact on many others across the globe…albeit not yet particularly obvious. In that, millions of others have also grown into a more dynamically positive state of mind, in standing up to such adversity. In that sense, one may regard COVID-19 as nothing more than frosting on the cake. One may even find it rather hilarious, perceiving it as I do now, to be “the Idiot Remover Pandemic.” Well, enough of this. Back to the doggies:

Flaco always howls first…if howl she does whenever a fire engine or ambulance wails away nearby, which is usually NOT the case, except when the siren calls are prolonged. What happens is that, first, she will rear her head to alert, at which moment Lucky will stare at her with rapt attention, to see if she will begin her howling. If she does, then and only then will her brother join in. Otherwise, she’ll return back to rest, as will Lucky. It is as if, as her loving sibling, he is her booster, giving her first dibs to anything choice.

Several days back I found another large box to replace the one I had to discard in preparation for bedbug treatment. It was during my walk with the pooches that I came across one, left by the curb with two other, smaller boxes. Nice, ample room and clean as a whistle, as it apparently had been discarded just that morning, after being relieved of its contents! So, after looking it over inside and out, I decided to lug it home. But just when I reached for it, Flaco raised a leg and peed all over one side! Lesson learned: never look for a new box when the pups are present. Or snatch it up quickly before it gets defiled.

Well, I predict Deek and pups will show up later on today, or perhaps tomorrow, as I told him three days ago there’s no more money until my next Social Security deposit. I hope he still has that doggy cart, and that Flaco enjoys riding in it. Though I have my doubts, as she refuses to sit in the shopping cart, unlike Lucky who loves to go for the ride every chance he gets. I wonder how they’ll deal with riding inside a moving vehicle, as that will become a necessity, once San Franshitsco collapses into a Mad Max free-for-all, and you come all the way down from Mendoland to rescue us.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Subject: Arwyn Spotting Alert
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 3, 2021 2:26 PM

Saw him this morning as we each turned the same corner from opposite directions. That was at Market & Church; on my way to Molden Produce health food store to pick up another loaf of Alvarado Street Sprouted Wheat Raisin Bread. Each acting like one didn’t know the other. Happy to see he’s alive and well (though a tad gray as evidenced by the stubble on his face which, I guess, is his latest look). I’m sure he feels the same way about me. Hardy har-har. I only wish I could have brought the pups along, in all their spectacular cuteness. They would’ve charmed him to pieces, as they do most everyone else.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- (no subject)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 3, 5:39 PM

> Jeeziz.

Oh I have the perfect reply…you’ll be impressed. However, since Mr. Dewars has not also posted that email to me, I have to wait until the next list digest arrives–which will be either later today, or tomorrow–before I can respond. I’ve asked Mr. Dennis to send me the actual email, so I can study the hidden data that will reveal the IP number, and other details. If Dewars posted from a coffeehouse, that will be revealed by the IP, as well as the time and date. Then the cops can go there and check out the business’s camera footage. Assuming the establishment has that kind of security. If he emailed this from home base, that’s even better…or from anyone else’s home.

However, seeing as the goon has gotten away with bullying people online so much, with many complaints likely registered against him already, I really don’t see how my report will be of any real help. Especially in light of the law usually not regarding emails as equal to traditional phone calls, when it comes to harassment.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- (no subject)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 3, 2021 6:08

> Though it wasn’t too smart of him to publicly post his “plan” to have an airtight alibi.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. My response will be priceless…stay tuned!

Subject: Pups back again, Deek doing extraordinarily well!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 4, 2021 11:38 AM

He called up to my window shortly after 8 AM. Still with the bicycle and doggy cart, though I didn’t have a chance to ask if Flaco enjoyed it, as he was in a rush again. He handed off the dogs to me, who were furiously eager to step inside. Deek was delighted to receive his allowance a bit early, said he’ll be back later; then said well, maybe not till tomorrow. (Though I hope it won’t be until the day after that, like the last time.) Right after we said our goodbyes, and as the brindlekin were tugging on their leashes through the open gate, he added:

“I know they’re in good hands with you.”

He came off with a healthy air of confidence and a happy spirit…which seems to have become his new normal starting two or so months ago. And just getting better. I think I’ll joke with him next time around, say something like:

“You’re a really busy man these days, Deek. I guess establishing your own drug cartel is not all cake and flowers!”

We have a new neighbor across the way, and it sounds like they own a chihuahua. This could turn out very well, as the pups may finally have another doggy friend in the building.

I trust you’re off to a good start today, and every day, good doctor. It’s a cold, gray morning here, and I love it.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: Pups back again, Deek doing extraordinarily well!
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 4, 2021 1:14 PM

> Great news about Deek, and great news about a possible doggy friend.

Yep, it surely is. What a long road it’s been, but all worth it.

Lucky has a new habit of pressing a chunky paw on my arm whenever he wants his neck scratched. Or, when he’s not lying beside me, pushing his head firmly against my leg. I love how he holds his head up high, tilting it left and right as I scratch first here, then there, while he makes the sweetest little groans. If I stop too soon, he’ll make that clear.

> We have a busted pipe here, so no water. Temporary, but a pain in the wazoo. Plumbers cost a bloody fortune, so we are trying to fix it ourselves, alas!

Ugh. I’m sure you’ll get it repaired yourselves. I don’t see how anyone who owns their home does not wind up being totally absorbed in maintaining it, with little time for anything else, such as eating, sleeping and watering the thirsty bears coming down from the hills and into your backyard, during the drought. Forget any social life outside those walls!

> Somebody oughtta be here making a documentary about it. So, stand by!!!

Throw a cat or two into the mix, and it’s bound to go viral…at least on Youtube. Cats are magic.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- (no subject)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN discussion list
Date: August 4, 2021 2:11 PM

On Tue, 3 Aug 2021 13:29:26 -0700 spike NAZI TROLL dewars squoinked:

> Enjoy bullying little old Asian women Your Assholiness ? We shall soon see if you can take it half as good as you dish it out. I’ll be here four hours away with an airtight alibi and no money or communication trail implicating me in anything. Done this before.

Oh, aren’t YOU Ms. Merang’s knight in shining armor! Rising to the call of defending every Asian woman on the planet. Where’s Jerry Springer when you need him?

YOU seem to not grasp that she is MANIPULATING you, using flattery to trick you into doing something dangerously illegal that will get you locked up for a good, long time. Playing the sweet little victim Asian female to the hilt. Haven’t you been through this before…with women in general, not Asian ones specifically?

Haven’t you stated more than once that most women just want a man to pay for their expenses and not carry their own weight? Haven’t you stated more than once you’ve been taken advantage of by a woman, and you’re better off going on without them? Don’t you see she’s manipulating you into a the way some ladies do so well?

Ms. Merang is playing on your own pro-Nazi proclivities to make you go into a rage and commit a horrendous crime. Even if you had every reason to hate me (which you do NOT, on any level, but let’s just ignore all that for the sake of driving home my point)…she is playing you like a fiddle. Nurturing that hatred into a tragic crescendo that will only make your world come crashing down, and put you behind bars. TANYA IS NOT YOUR FRIEND, SHE’S BOGUS.

Just a word to the wise. Have fun with that. Woo-hoo!

Re: Pups back again, Deek doing extraordinarily well!
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 4, 2021 3:44 PM

> If only I actually did own this house….yes, my name is on the deed, but the true owner is the bank, which, through a series of grotesque contortions, allows me to live here, for now.

I’d say that’s true for the overwhelming majority of so-called “home owners.” Outright “owning” is rare, and mostly by the wealthy. I am in a similarly precarious living situation as a renter…which you know all about. Yet I’ve managed to hold on for decades, much to the chagrin of building managers and certain gossipy residents.

> I’m anything but financially secure, and paying professional repair people is usually prohibitive…so it’s getting very “Grey Gardens” around here, alas.

I can’t imagine how quickly costs build up when hiring professionals to maintain one’s home over this or that emergency.

> Though I never forget that I’m way, way better off than millions of people. And I know quite well that “there but for fortune go I….”

Same here, in a most unanticipated outcome of which rent control has been THE saving grace. Though other factors are involved.

> I love the description of Lucky wanting neck scratches. I love it when little animals step up and demand love.

Yeah, like that darling little otter in a Youtube video, who so clearly demonstrated its desire for a petting. Melted my heart.

> My orange kitty leaps onto the computer table like a little gymnast (which is what cats are,

Expert athletes!

> aside from serial killers and sybarites)

Which only adds to their charm, for some hilarious reason.

> and butts my typing fingers with her little head, touching me with her cold wet vibrating purring nose. I am powerless to resist. And the doggy gazes at me with his long-lashed soulful brown eyes until I give him a thorough ear and neck-scritching and a treat.

We are held captive by their charms, never wishing to escape. The only kind of prisoner worth being, because of the sweetest perks. Who can resist rubbing and kissing Flaco’s belly when she rolls on her back, front paws drooped and floppy-eared noggin coyly turned to one shoulder, with pink tongue sticking out? Irresistible! They’ve got us wrapped around their little paw.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Texting with Wattson – 8/5/21

Pic 1 (large version): New Sign

Pic 2 (large version): Unsafe Back Stairs

Video: Coffin Express

Subject: A Bit of Drama
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 6, 2021 1:54 PM

Deek came by unexpectedly, an hour ago…asked me to watch the pups for awhile. Said that the dogs are getting out of hand, Lucky punctured a hole in someone’s cheap-ass shoe who was harassing the little pooches…threatened to kill the pups, they shouldn’t even be out here, et cetera. And his “girlfriend” (whoever the hell she is, if not a figment) after witnessing the altercation, exclaimed she wants nothing more to do with Deek, so long as the mutts are around. Then he ranted about how others, whenever they see him without Lucky & Flaco, mock him for letting a housed person take care of them, that he’s not a real street dude, et cetera.

“Why is this going on?” Deek addressed the gods through THIS patient pilgrim.

So I explained to him they’re jealous of the dogs, and having a housed friend…IOW they’re fucking with him. I patted him on the shoulder:

“Just keep your cool, I trust you, things’ll work out. For now, let me take the doggies inside.” There was even another homeless guy just several feet away, diddling with his portable radio, with his (apparently) friendly German shepherd companion stretched out on the pavement. Neither Deek’s pups nor the shepherd paid any mind to the other; all was surprisingly placid.

He ended our latest meetup by admitting I’m right, he’s just gotta work off some steam. And he stated once again that he knows they’re always safe with me. Deek was not loud at all, but spoke in a rather steady tone, while through it all, the pups were as mellow as brindlekin cucumbers. Neither seemed worse for the harassment, including Flaco, who he claimed was kicked a couple of times.

I don’t believe any of this, that it’s just another little drama Deek enjoys inventing (though when he said it’s all true cross my heart, I replied I believe you, just sorry it happened.). But it’s to my benefit, a perfect excuse to have them over. Making me the hero once again. He said they’re probably not hungry, they just ate. And he was right, as NEITHER showed any interest in having their favorite ducky treat. Instead, they crashed out with impressive elan. I don’t think they got much sleep last night. Flaco’s in the box right now, enjoying the seclusion, while Lucky’s stretched out on the cot, licking one edge of the bedding. Ah, nirvana!

Click here for a larger view.

Attached is a pic I just took of a typical, spoiled San Franshitscan seated upon some glorified motorbike and licking a soft-serve, organic ice cream cone from the Super Duper Burger joint next door. Just the kind of person who will fuck you over at the drop of a hat, if you’re poor or homeless or elderly or not good looking, or any other number of absurd and unjustified reasons. Like some of the idiots who occupy my building. But Deek has to deal with them too, for they also number among the homeless with their own pecking order.

He did give me some worry two days ago, that I did not mention in my text. He arrived with another 20-pound Bluetooth speaker…only this one loosely jerry-rigged with duct tape and wires sticking out like a rabid Medusa. The front plate was barely hanging on, and he was struggling to get the cord plugged in properly, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it once hovel. I told him let me bring the dogs in while you’re dealing with that.

While settling the pups down for their stay, I finally realized that that lead-acid powered speaker is a hazard! So upon my return a few minutes later, I told him to throw it away (even though by now he had got it to play and said “see it’s working”), that it could easily set fire or even explode…it could hurt him or the mutts. I feared he’d react belligerently and try to talk me into taking it upstairs to charge overnight. But he didn’t, he simply agreed with a swift “okay.”


– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: A Bit of Drama
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 6, 2021 3:21 PM

> The image of the dude on the blue bike contraption–wretched excess, conspicuous consumption!!

And licking an ORGANIC ice cream cone: the pièce de résistance to this textbook illustration of material gluttony.

> Great to hear of Deek’s progress. I’m starting to actually believe in it!!!

Well, Wattson, it’s all out of Kismet’s own script, as far as I can tell. His mature handling of my wresting the pups from his world (back in January) in order to spare them from potential misery, is not at all what I anticipated. Bringing them back to me so soon after I returned them via the police, trusting me with his pups…that’s actually remarkable, considering his previously bratty behavior. Assuming my Bodhisattva Premise, these harrowing little adventures are more about teaching ME to become more trusting and relaxed, than about getting Deek to grow up.

Till we’ve now reached the point where he readily, and politely, accepts any of my “no” decisions. Did he really grow up so fast, or is this all a carefully constructed play, written and staged by my bodhisattva keepers of the flame? I believe it’s the latter, and accumulating incidents just layer on that affirmation like a thick, sweet frosting.

> Love to think of the doggies in blissful, peaceful rest.

My darling, brindlekin angels…their kind nature is profound! They’ve turned my hovel into a teensy bit of Avalon on earth, in spite of repeated bedbug invasions, harassment from residents and manager alike, and cacophony spilling in from the crazy street dramas playing outside 24/7.

> Oh, the stories they could tell!!!

OMG, maybe they will someday, by some kind of new, ingenious Android app. Their innocent perception of things would be a revelation to humanity.

> “Rabid Medusa!” That’s great!

Ha ha, as if she weren’t rabid already. That shabby Bluetooth speaker veritably screamed DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!

– Zeke K-Holmes

Texting with Wattson – 8/6/21

Texting with Wattson – 8/6/21 (cont’d)

Pic: Autopsy Emoji

Video: Lucky

Pic: Calamity Jane

Pic: Flaco

Video: A Quiet Morning

Video: 4 Doggies

Re: [MCN-Discussion]- (no subject)
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: MCN discussion list
Date: August 7, 2021 4:22 PM

On Tue, 6 Aug 2021 16:32 spike NAZI TROLL dewars squoinked:

> You don’t even deserve to be alive you PARASITE, let alone to live in Mendocino. It’s not even worth working you to death as you’ve never worked. Just a bullet in the back of the head, then your body off to the rendering plant. At least we could get a couple bars of soap and a small bag of fertilizer out of you which will be the ONLY contribution you will ever make to society.

He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. So be it. Woo-hoo!

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Subject: I don’t know what’s up with the building manager, Kevin…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 7, 2021 9:14 PM

…and the back stairs. They’ve ALWAYS been dangerous (as Dieter reminded me), but they are no MORE dangerous now, than before. By “dangerous,” I mean they are narrow, and a bit tricky when you have to turn a corner halfway down, to finally get to the basement. If you have to descend from the top floor, you must turn FOUR such corners before you reach the compost bin.

But, though wooden, they remain solid, not the least bit wobbly, and no nails or other sharp protrusions. The banister is round, smooth, and narrow enough to wrap your hand around…and NOT slippery, splintery, or even a tad rickety.

Why the building inspectors never did anything about pressuring Ablahblah Realty to upgrade those stairs decades ago, is beyond me. I think, perhaps, due to the building’s relative antiquity, grandfather laws offer shameful loopholes. At any rate:

My compost had reached the rim of my large, plastic bowl today…and Kevin never informed me, or the residents in general, where else to dump our food scraps. So I climbed down to the basement and disposed of it, knowing my breaking this new rule would be recorded, since there’s a camera for each back porch, and one in the basement. But what choice do I have?

Deek has yet to return, so the pups are still here. Fine with me, of course. A few encounters so far in which they barked, though not so raucously as in previous months. The ducky treats do their magic for the most part, except the occasional times (like this morning) when they’re already sated and have no desire to snack.

Yesterday one young, string-bean fellow came rushing down the stairs, and caught us in the middle, with little space to pass. The pups barked, but were easy to nudge on ahead, whereby they ceased their yaps promptly. The new resident just chuckled, and said, “Well, good morning to you, too!” Obviously, he saw they don’t bite, nor even grab onto a pant cuff or Lucky enjoys doing to me, when I take them out for a stroll.

And this afternoon, when I stepped into the lobby, there was Dieter about to take his first step up with wheelchair folded beside him…which he raises with his left hand, and sets down with a loud THUD on each step forward. I can hear that from my hovel, BTW…but it also sounds just like Kevin or the maintenance fellow, Jorge, lugging an overloaded trash bin from one of the back porches, down the stairs: THUMP [pause], THUMP [pause], THUMP [pause] and so on. Talk about the perfect sound effects for a haunted mansion!

Often, another tenant shows up and offers to carry the wheelchair upstairs. Which is what happened today. But then after climbing to the next floor, he stopped to talk some more with Dieter, still one flight below and barely five steps above the ground floor. Which left me and pups stuck waiting in the lobby, because we couldn’t yet pass by him. But even if we could, there was that helping-hand resident standing and yapping small talk from the second floor, which would cause the mutts to bark again as they approached.

I was worried that someone else would step in while I was constrained to the lobby…thus the dogs’ barking could ensue once more. They only barked at Dieter for around 15 seconds, and once he finally started up the stairs, I let them dash up close to him, and said:

“The dogs of terror are right behind you!”

“Yes,” he joked, “I can feel them nipping at my heels!”

Actually, the pups were silent by that point, politely allowing Dieter to take his time…he loves the dogs, and they, him. Soon as he reached the landing midway to the second floor, he allowed us to scoot on by. And, fortunately, that person porting the wheelchair had finally quit chatting and disappeared up the next flight. He’s the queeny sort, and I was wary of any drama coming from him, should the dogs have been forced to squeeze by him, too, and sound off.

A third encounter was when we exited the gate this morning: two other residents were outside, and held it open for me. The dogs barked, but just a bit…no big dealie.

One reason I am eager to have the new elevator up and running…so there won’t be so many occupants, delivery people and workers passing by, up and down the first flight stairs to disturb the brindlekin. That elevator door, by the way, HAS NO FUCKIN’ WINDOW IN IT, though the old one did! All the more reason to call it “The Coffin Express.” Though another reason for naming it such, is that installing the new lift may have cost us one life; meaning Todd who passed away back in March, perhaps because some in the elevator crew did not bother to wear a mask for a time during our lockdown. Reminds me of an old documentary I watched years ago, about building bridges or skyscrapers: there is always at least ONE worker who falls to his death…a life sacrificed in the name of progress.

That sticker is still on his door by the way, the one from the Medical Examiner’s Office warning people to not enter, at risk of being fined or jailed. I feel sorry for anyone who moves in there…it’s the room of death. Another obnoxious person died in room 209 from a heroine overdose, that was possibly a murder. That is: his two druggie friends might have bumped him off so they could steal some of his $45,000 inheritance from an uncle, a portion of which may have been wads of cash hidden in his domicile. That was back in, oh, 1987 or thereabouts. I was actually away in Santa Cruz for a week, when they discovered his corpse, due to the stink that began to permeate. I hate this building.

Well, it’s now almost 9 PM and still no Deek. Not worried about it, as I’m sure he’s figuring stuff out and keeping busy. Maybe he’s looking for part time, under-the-counter work, like washing dishes somewhere in the Mission! Low-level job opportunities aplenty have opened up, thanks to this pandemic. Or maybe he really IS starting up his own street-boutique drug cartel! If so, I’ll make it clear to him I don’t want to know anything about it. So there.

– Zeke K-Holmes

Re: I don’t know what’s up with the building manager, Kevin…
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: My Dear Wattson
Date: August 7, 2021 11:38 PM

> Oh, God. The corpse moldering away in the room. That’s the city for you.

I think many of the dead are still walking about, resurrected maybe, or just Republican. I suspect some of them live right here in 9666 Market Street, including the manager.

> My mother had an apartment in NYC in the 1960s, rent-control (her rent was something like $65 a month, dirt cheap even then). An old lady who lived on the top floor, who’d been there for decades, died alone.

I wouldn’t mind dying alone…in fact I’d PREFER it when you consider the other options for a low income senior like me: nursing home from hell or drab hospital room with four others, and you have tubes stuck into you, and you can’t move, read, watch TV, use the Internet, or even defecate cleanly and w/o assistance by a low-wage aide from Jalisco.

> You know the rest of the story…so sad, so ignominious. I actually think death would be less frightening if we didn’t leave a corpse behind.

Death would be even LESS frightening if it didn’t kill you, but just your enemies.

> Wonderful doggy report and lovable pic!

That was a closeup shot of my Flaco-sweater pic I sent you earlier. She looks like a young, virgin nun! Flaco’s sweet image should be depicted in stained glass in every cathedral on the planet.

> Hope Deek stays away a long time. But that’s just me!

He just showed up as I was composing this missive. I’m glad he did, and here’s why:

Should he disappear for whatever reason, I’m stuck with the pups 24/7, and would probably be legally compelled to get rid of them. By law, I would first have to get permission from the manager…but since I just live in a room, he probably would say no to ANY pet. This way, I am merely dog sitting, thus having them away on a regular basis keeps things running smoothly for me.

Expecting the manager to ALLOW not just one, but two, doggies in a single room is a long shot. Especially in light of his prejudices, including against the homeless…and his hatred towards yours truly. The rules of this pet-friendly building exclude any SRO tenant from having ANY pet, whatsoever. Though it seems they usually look the other way, because it DOES happen from time to time. But I don’t know if permission first needs to be granted, or they just play it by ear.

The fact that the manager has not already pursued forcing me to stop having the dogs over, suggests this is more of a scenario played out for my own benefit, that is: my Bodhisattva Premise. Or it may be due to his vile treatment towards me over the Myrtle/Adisa conflict…which is blatantly illegal, including his nasty letter to me, that he signed. And I’ve documented every single abusive confrontation of his. So in that sense, I have him over a barrel. Also keep in mind that Kevin KNOWS I never back off when I’m in the right, as I’ve already burned him good for his transgressions.

But I DO believe this IS a bodhisattva game in which I am already destined to be the hero in EVERY conflict that may arise. I have been, so far, which is an excellent sign of a jubilant future, including near future. Therefore, they will only go so far with threats and actions…just enough to test my mettle, and in so doing, teach me how to rise above all worry, and be as gracious as possible, no matter what.

In which case, should Deek vanish, I WOULD be allowed to keep Flaco & Lucky in my charge. But let’s not go there, for I do not believe it will come to that, which is: Deek’s sudden departure from my world, with or without the pooches. All shall turn out win-win for both of us. And the dogs shall have TWO loving masters, and a long and happy life.

When I brought the pups back to him, he asked right away how is Flaco doing. This was over his concern for her being kicked about the other night (which I don’t believe ever happened, as she appeared in her usual, glowing health, and in excellent spirits). I told him she seems great, no sign of any harm whatsoever. Anyway, he leaned on me a bit over the meanness of some people, so I commended him on how well he’s doing. That these conflicts will soon pass, and he’ll have better options in his life. God is watching over him, as well as the pups.

Just don’t let nasty people make you lose control. Never use anger to justify your actions…always find a better way to deal with crises. But he already knows that, as he pretty much embellished on my advice, injecting his responses here and there in my pep talk. In fact, in a short while I felt like I was conversing with myself!

I wished him well, he thanked me profusely, then off they went, and I, back hovel to complete this email. I am the Tarot card’s Fool On The Hill. If you’re not sure what I mean by this, visit here.

In particular, the opening section called “Fool Definition,” and the one that follows: “Upright Fool.” The third (and final) part, “The Reverse Fool” does not apply to my situation.

Notice the friendly dog by his side. The Tarot card deck is actually a collection of humanity’s most powerful archetypes, and is precisely why Carl Jung revered them so much as a powerful tool for meditation and insight (NOT for fortune telling, mind you.)

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