"Dog Thief!"

The other day I spent the morning writing, then decided to go for a little walk down to the end of the road I live on. The road is white sand, very soft and powdery. In moonlight and early morning it glows rather eerily. Anyway, this fine sunny warm morning, I walked down the road, a little nervous because I don't see people around here walk for pleasure. I left behind me a lone set of footprints amidst all the tire tracks.

It's an interesting back woodsy neighborhood. I know from my landlady, who is an artist, that our neighbor across from us is a crack addict. The crack-head's neighbor lives in an airstream camper back in the trees and drives an awesome old truck. My landlady and I loaded two 33 gallon barrels in her pickup and drove back to this guy's well to fill up with water. Haven't actually met the man, but Moe says he's very nice and trustworthy. She doesn't know his name though . . . this tells you something about my landlady. Anyway, the woods are not terribly old, but old enough to be a nice variety of trees, a few pines, but mostly hardwood hammock, and the birds and squirrels chirrup and scurry contentedly. I'd say the lots are 5 acre parcels for the most part, some are left wooded, some cleared and lawned, with a few rose bushes, tropical fruits, and various ornamentals. Most of the cleared lots have signs claiming they are equipped with security alarms. We'll probably stick to using Harold's well, or whatever his name is.

Well, there on my left were a few yards with dogs. One mid-sized black mutt with a red harness style collar came up his drive barking at me, being the budget version of a security system. Somebody doing some hammering and drilling behind the house yelled for it and was ignored, but no harm done. Each of us knew where we were allowed: I didn't approach him and he stayed outside my 5 foot security space. The next yard, however, was nothing but trouble. The first thing I noted was that all the dogs were small . . . shiatsu and terrier type mutts. Once one started barking they all joined the chorus. Then the ring leader decided to come after me and jumped through a large hole in the wire fencing. Second followed. The third didn't bother with the hole and just ran down to the end of the fence line, since it was merely wire strung along posts parallel to the road. Hm. You wonder what these things are for anyway.

Well, stupid dogs didn't do any biting, just yap, yap, yapping and running around my feet, and then thought it would be fun to follow me down the road. I'm standing there in the middle of the white sand road telling the idiot dogs to stay home when . . . the child started yelling.

"Don't steal our dogs!"
"Dog Thief!"
"I'm going to get you!"
"She's stealing our dogs! Help!"

This was a child opening the front door on the house to scream, and then slamming it shut. Much of what he was shouting was indecipherable.

"I'm just going for a walk" I yelled. "You're dogs are trying to follow me."

"Dog Thief!"
"I've got a gun!"

I continued trying to shoo the dogs home, and when I heard the door slam open again I looked up to find that, sure enough, the child clad in a light blue one piece pajamas had run out onto the porch with a big black automatic rifle in his hands. The sight was so ridiculous I knew I was probably alright, and I did not see any aiming or skill involved, just the angles of multiple handles and shoulder straps of a very mean looking gun.

"Don't steal our dogs!"

Another, older, child had appeared and was running out to gather up the dogs. I told her that I was just walking, and was sorry for the trouble. She didn't look at me, nor say a word, just kept the hood of her blue hoodie up and carried one of the dogs back to the house. I walked to the end of the road and on my way back the house was quiet; no children, no dogs. They were probably in the house, propping the gun on the sofa and watching me carefully through the scope.

I said hello again to the black mutt with the red collar and he sounded the alarm again for a little bit, but there was no lull in the hammering and drilling that time. I got to my lot across from the crack addict and the various cats were sitting among the trees, or sprawled out in the white sandy spots waiting for me.